“It is a religion, not a game,” said the cold, hard voice.
“Exactly—the very view I take of it,” cried Moir. “I am sure I am very sorry if I have asked a foolish question. You will not tell me who you are?”
“What does it matter?”
“Have you been a spirit long?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“We cannot reckon time as you do. Our conditions are different.”
“Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
“You would not wish to come back to life?”