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Updated: June 25, 2025
Says he: And this was, as thise bookes me remembre, The colde, frosty sesoun of Decembre.... The bittre frostes with the sleet and reyn Destroyed hath the grene in every yard; Janus sit by the fyre with double beard, And drynketh of his bugle horn the wyn; Biforn hym stant brawn of the tusked swyn, And "Nowel" crieth every lusty man. Janus, god of doors, what we call nowadays a janitor.
"Wad ye no tak my airm, mem?" he said at length, summoning courage. "I jist fin' mysel' like a horse wi' a reyn brocken, gaein' by mysel' throu' the air this gait." Before he had finished the sentence Ginevra had accepted the offer. It was the first time. His arm trembled. He thought it was her hand. "Ye're no cauld, are ye, mem?" he said. "Not the least," she answered.
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