The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. ‘In love? I? Don’t be ridiculous. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. ” The detective nodded. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. He had “put his foot down,” and said she must not go. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished.
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