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or cooking or Saul's conversion on the Damascus road。 She was looking out the window toward the ridges; her chin propped on her hand; her eyes as hazy as those ridges look on summer mornings when it's going to be hot。 Summer mornings like the one when the Detterick girls had been found; I thought for no reason。 I wondered why they hadn't screamed。
Their killer had hurt them; there had been blood on the porch; and on the steps。 So why hadn't they screamed?
〃You think John Coffey really killed that man Wharton; don't you?〃 Janice asked; looking back from the window at last。 〃Not that it was an accident; or anything like that; you think he used Percy Wetmore on Wharton like a gun。〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Why?〃
〃I don't know。'
〃Tell me again about what happened when you took Coffey off the Mile; would you? Just that part。〃
So I did。 I told her how the skinny arm shooting out from between the bars and grabbing John 's bicep had reminded me of a snake…one of the water moccasins we were all scared of when we were kids swimming in the river … and how Coffey had said Wharton was a bad man。 Almost whispering it。
〃And Wharton said 。。。 ?〃 My wife was looking out the window again; but she was listening; all right。
〃Wharton said; 'That's right; nigger; bad as you'd want。; 〃
〃And that's all。〃
〃Yes。 I had a feeling that something was going to happen right then; but nothing did。 Brutal took Wharton's hand off John and told him to
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