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f at home; sick as a dog; shivering in bed with the stink of sulfa running out of my pores? Perhaps; I was maybe supposed to be here instead of home in case Wild Bill Wharton decided to kick up more dickens; or to make sure Percy Wetmore didn't get up to some foolish and potentially destructive piece of fuckery All right; then。 So be it。 I would keep my eyes open … and my mouth shut; especially about miracle cures。
No one y looking and sounding better; I'd been telling the world I was getting better; and until that very day I'd honestly believed it。 I had even told Warden Moores that I was on the mend。 Delacroix had seen something; but I thought he would keep his mouth shut; too (probably afraid John Coffey would throw a spell on him if he didn't)。 As for Coffey himself; he'd probably already forgotten it。 He was nothing but a conduit; after all; and there isn't a culvert in the world that remembers the water that flowed through it once the rain has stopped。 So I resolved to keep my mouth pletely shut on the subject; with never an idea of how soon I'd be telling the story; or who I'd be telling it to。
But I was curious about my big boy; and there's no sense not admitting it。 After what had happened to me there in his cell; I was more curious than ever。
4。
Before leaving that night; I arranged with Brutal to cover for me the next day; should I e in a little late; and when I got up the following morning; I set out for Tefton; down in Trapingus County
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