But here the
ray of spring had never penetrated either that day or the days of former
springs; so there was no lingering fragrance. Here no one heeded the
aspects of the changing year save when suffocated by sweltering heat, or
frozen in the bitter cold, or drenched by the pouring rain. Otherwise in
these gray, frowsy streets spring, summer, autumn, winter were all the
same to the grey, frowsy people. It is true that youth laughed--pale,
animal boys, and pale, flat-chested girls. But it laughed chiefly at
inane obscenity.
One of these days, when phonography is as practicable as photography,
some one will make accurate records in these frowsy streets, and then,
after the manner of the elegant writers of Bucolics and Pastorals,
publish such a series of Urbanics and Pavimentals, phonographic
dialogues between the Colins and Dulcibellas of the pavement and the
gutter as will freeze up Hell with horror.
An anemic, flirtatious group passed us, the girls in front, the boys
behind.
"Good God, Campion, what _can_ you do?" I asked.
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