‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. Cathy sighed. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. My wife—killed me. " "Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. ” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. She moaned as she touched him.
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