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And then the almanac lied, and said spring had come. Spring comes when it comes. The frozen snow of January still lay like adamant in the crosstown streets. The hand-organ still played "In the Good Old Summertime," with their December vivacity and expression. Men begin to take thirty-day notes to buy Easter dresses. Janitors shut off steam. And when these things happen one may know that the city is still in the clutches of winter.
O. Henry |
Friday, March 20, 2009
20 March 2009
