\"What did you think of Poltergeist, John?\" She tried to engage him in conversation as Mark's music blared from the van's stereo system. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. It is difficult to express these things. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out.
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