CHAPTER V. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. . They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so.
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