human
We shall have fine weather to-morrow, said Joseph, as we left the snow and came to what he called the
gpt
which was greasy and slippery under foot.
human
See, Monsieur, a worm; he comes up out of his hole, and the earth clings to him as he walks abroad. If he were clean, that would be a sign of another bad day to follow.
gpt
At least we are going down to summer again, I replied;
human
I am used to it now, Monsieur,