" "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. , and go home before you have to. ” He looked at her anxiously, and she met his glance with a dazzling smile of gratitude. . ‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. They are born idiots, incurably insane. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to.
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