The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. He must be more or less of an age with this man. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. "I'll have to set you right on that, too.
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