CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR




``WASHED IN THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB.''





   As Verlaine says, c'est a` recommencer -- though that only proves -- to my mind -- that it was not properly finished. You don't expect an Eight to row over the course again ten minutes after the race, do you? These machine-gun men advertise their clumsiness, not their force.


The point is that we've got so mixed up over the chapters that we had better begin again well ahead of the hunt.




And her name is Mrs. Hunt.

And she's ordered to the front

With no hair on -- hair on -- hair on

her old toot -- toot.





Good night, everybody! (No, not you, Belgacem!)