\"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. Don't ask any more questions. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. "O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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