Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. “I’m a ghoul! So you can become a ghoul? You should settle down, John, get married, have children. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. ‘I was just looking the place over when I heard you calling out. ” “Very sad—very sad indeed,” he remarked uneasily. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. Marry, come up! I'll see who's to be obeyed. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. .
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