round in astonishment at the pretty little girl who had ventured to
address him, 'quite absurd. I must rattle my chains, and groan
through keyholes, and walk about at night, if that is what you mean.
It is my only reason for existing.'

'It is no reason at all for existing, and you know you have been
very wicked. Mrs. Umney told us, the first day we arrived here,
that you had killed your wife.'

'Well, I quite admit it,' said the Ghost petulantly, 'but it was a
purely family matter, and concerned no one else.'

'It is very wrong to kill any one,' said Virginia, who at times had
a sweet Puritan gravity, caught from some old New England ancestor.

'Oh, I hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics! My wife was very
plain, never had my ruffs properly starched, and knew nothing about
cookery. Why, there was a buck I had shot in Hogley Woods, a
magnificent pricket, and do you know how she had it sent up to
table? However, it is no matter now, for it is all over, and I
don't think it was very nice of her brothers to starve me to death,
though I did kill her.'

'Starve you to death? Oh, Mr. Ghost, I mean Sir Simon, are you
hungry? I have a sandwich in my case. Would you like it?'

'No, thank you, I never eat anything now; but it is very kind of
you, all the same, and you are much nicer than the rest of your
horrid, rude, vulgar, dishonest family.'