The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything. \"Are you hungry at all?\" He asked her. Now the doctor had the "feel" that somewhere ahead lay danger. ‘And I do understand.
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