Miscellany: Farm

In 1911 one Samuel Meeks—a man of 45, looking much older, with vague eyes half-closed in a sunburned, drooping face— rose from his chair and walked uncertainly out of a courthouse in Indiana. He did not know quite where to go, but anyway he could not go back now—not to Logansport. Alice Meeks, his wedded wife, had just divorced him. She complained that she found him a burden to her; she had kept him for a long time. Now he could go. She needed a man to work her farm. . . . The...

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