"That doesn't sound very awful. Haven't you seen it?"
"No, thank goodness. Of course I don't suppose it's a ghost at all, really, but when we came out we'd just heard the most gruesome sort of a groan. Honestly, it made one's blood run cold. So Chas - my brother-in-law — is going round oiling all the door-hinges. Look, that's the chapel. Doesn't it look eerie and romantic?"
"Yes, I don't think I should care to spend the night up there alone," Strange admitted.
They stood still for a moment, surveying the ruin. Strange glanced back towards the house. "H'm. It's rather cut off by the trees, isn't it? Can you see it from the house at all?"
"No, not from downstairs. You can from my window, and the landing window. Why?"
"I only thought it was rather a pity anything so picturesque should be out of sight."
They walked on slowly. "If the place is haunted at all, I'm sure the ghost lives in the chapel," Margaret said lightly. "lf I had the courage of a mouse, which I haven't, I'd get my brother to sit up with me and watch."
"I think it's just as well you haven't," said Strange, with another of his swift transforming smiles. "You never know, and - I should hate you to get a fright."
"Oh, nothing would induce Peter to forsake his bed," she said. "Besides, he doesn't believe in ghosts. Here's your path. You can't miss the way now." She stopped and held out her hand.
Michael Strange took it in his. "Thank you very much," He said. "It was awfully good of you to bother. I - hope you get another puncture when I'm in the offing."