"And how is the ghost this morning, Anne?"
"I wish you would regard me as a rational being, Mr. Chandos! Do anything but treat me as a child."
"Nay, I think you proved yourself both irrational and a child last night," he laughingly said.
"Indeed I did not. I wish you had seen what I did."
"I wish I had," was the mocking answer. "Anne, trust me: there is no ghost inside Chandos, whatever they may say as to there being one out of it."
"I don't know how I shall be able to go upstairs alone at night again."
"Nor I. You will want Hill and half a dozen lighted torches to escort you. Do you remember my remarking, that last evening, taking one event with another, was a sensational one? But I did not suppose it was to wind up with anything so grand as a ghost."
The mocking tone, the ridicule vexed me. It was as if he ridiculed me. In spite of my good sense and my good manners, the vexation appeared in my eyes.
"There! We will declare a truce, Anne, and let the ghost drop. I don't want to make you angry with me."
"I am not angry, sir. I can never repay all your kindness to me; and especially that last one of coming to my relief last night."