human
I am cold, said she,
gpt
I am sorry to hear it, my dear,
human
The grave is cold as ice, she said.
gpt
I am going to step into bed.
human
No--never! exclaimed the widower, sitting up.
gpt
It won't do. It really won't. You will draw all the vital heat out of me, and I shall be laid up with rheumatic fever. It will be ten times worse than damp sheets.
human
I am coming to bed,