'But what delusion is this, in the mind of a man succeeding in everything
he does!' cried Diana, curious despite her wariness. 'Is there to be the
revelation of a hairshirt ultimately?--a Journal of Confessions? You
succeeded in everything you aimed at, and broke your heart over one
chance miss?'

'My heart is not of the stuff to break,' he said, and laughed off her
fortuitous thrust straight into it. 'Another cup, yes. I came . . .'

'By night,' said she, 'and cleverly found your way, and dined at The
Three Ravens, and walked to The Crossways, and met no ghosts.'

'On the contrary--or at least I saw a couple.'

'Tell me of them; we breed them here. We sell them periodically to the
newspapers!'

'Well, I started them in their natal locality. I saw them, going down
the churchyard, and bellowed after them with all my lungs. I wanted
directions to The Crossways; I had missed my way at some turning. In an
instant they were vapour.'

Diana smiled. 'It was indeed a voice to startle delicate apparitions!
So do roar Hyrcanean tigers. Pyramus and Thisbe--slaying lions! One
of your ghosts carried a loaf of bread, and dropped it in fright; one
carried a pound of fresh butter for home consumption. They were in the
churchyard for one in passing to kneel at her father's grave and kiss his
tombstone.'