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and dumped it on the place that was smoking。 There was a hiss。
John Coffey went on kissing her in that deep and intimate way； inhaling and inhaling； one hand still held out； the other on the bed； propping up his immense weight。 The fingers were splayed； the hand looked to me like a brown starfish。
Suddenly； her back arched。 One of her own hands flailed out in the air； the fingers clenching and unclenching in a series of spasms。 Her feet drummed against the bed。 Then something screamed。 Again； that's not just me； the other men heard it； as well。 To Brutal it sounded like a wolf or coyote with its leg caught in a trap。 To me it sounded like an eagle； the way you'd sometimes hear them on still mornings back then； cruising down through the misty cuts with their wings stiffly spread。
Outside； the wind gusted hard enough to give the house a second shake … and that was strange； you know； because until then there had been no wind to speak of at all。
John Coffey pulled away from her； and I saw that her face had smoothed out。 The right side of her mouth no longer drooped。 Her eyes had regained their normal shape； and she looked ten years younger。 He regarded her raptly for a moment or two； and then he began to cough。 He turned his head so as not to cough in her face； lost his balance （which wasn't hard； big as he was； he'd been sitting with his butt halfway off the side of the bed to start with）； and went down onto the floor。 There was enough of him to give
