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           “Icanassureyou,"saidI,“thatitwilltakeaverytangibleghosttofrightenme." AndIstoodupbeforethefirewithmyglassinmyhand. 

           “Itisyourownchoosing,"saidthemanwiththewitheredarm,andglancedatmeaskance. 

           “Eight-and-twentyyears,"saidI,“Ihavelived,andneveraghosthaveIseenasyet." 

           Theoldwomansatstaringhardintothefire,herpaleeyeswideopen. “Ay,"shebrokein;“andeight-and-twentyyearsyouhavelivedandneverseenthelikesofthishouse,Ireckon. There’samanythingstosee,whenone’sstillbuteight-and-twenty." Sheswayedherheadslowlyfromsidetoside. “Amanythingstoseeandsorrowfor." 

           Ihalfsuspectedtheoldpeopleweretryingtoenhancethespiritualterrorsoftheirhousebytheirdroninginsistence. Iputdownmyemptyglassonthetableandlookedabouttheroom,andcaughtaglimpseofmyself,abbreviatedandbroadenedtoanimpossiblesturdiness,inthequeeroldmirrorattheendoftheroom. “Well,"Isaid,“ifIseeanythingto-night,Ishallbesomuchthewiser.ForIcometothebusinesswithanopenmind." 

           “It’syourownchoosing,"saidthemanwiththewitheredarmoncemore. 

           Iheardthefaintsoundofastickandashamblingstepontheflagsinthepassageoutside. Thedoorcreakedonitshingesasasecondoldmanentered,morebent,morewrinkled,moreagedeventhanthefirst. Hesupportedhimselfbythehelpofacrutch,hiseyeswerecoveredbyashade,andhislowerlip,halfaverted,hungpaleandpinkfromhisdecayingyellowteeth.