Kimble had bedded the animal down at the local inn. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town.
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