Victoria's raised voice seemed to revive her swooning husband as he lay gasping on the floor. Gazing about him groggily, he said,

"Oh—what happened? The ghosts!"

"Never mind them," said Victoria between sobs. "Are you badly hurt?"

The voice of the wistful young woman interrupted his reply. "Will you let me look at him?" she asked in her quiet, melancholic fashion.

Victoria would have permitted her to do so, for she and that particular phantom had always been the deepest of friends, even in her early childhood—and she had not been particularly discourteous. Victor seemed to sense this, however, and hastily said,

"I'm quite fine—no need to put you through unnecessary trouble, is there?" His nervous laughter caused the onlookers to stare at him blankly. "Here, Victoria—won't you help me up? We must be going!"

"So soon?" breathed the ghost with a sigh.

"Forgive me, but—but yes. Why, it's morning and breakfast is waiting—and all—that sort of thing! We'll be back—I mean, we'll—oh, Victoria!"

His wife pulled him out of the room and shut the door behind her with an unnecessary slam, hoping that she had startled her grandmother by so doing. Her face was flushed with wrath and she stood motionless in the empty hallway, scowling at no one in particular.

Victor thought it wise to remain silent whilst she was in such a mood, but as it turned out, he was wrong. Turning on him, she spat,

"Hmm. Speechless again, I see. I'm always the one talking; I'm always the one who has to take control of every little situation. When have you managed anything for me, Victor? When have I ever been able to sit back and relax, knowing that you are taking care of—whatever the problem is."

Victor's head was bowed. "I—"

"No. I'm simply not in the mood for excuses. Did you notice that while we were talking with those—those hooligans, I was the only one speaking?"

"Perhaps..." Victor began.

Victoria would not hear him. With a dark look, she walked slowly to her room and entered it, slamming her door behind her just as she had slammed the ghosts' door.

For the first time, Victor could feel actual hatred growing swiftly in his heart. He had been so very happy—all had been pure bliss, excitement, and everyone had been in the best of cheer—until he had discovered those thoughtless specters. When he remembered all the pain they had caused his sweet, though somewhat irate, young wife, his dislike for them only became worse; with no room to return to but far too tired to wander about any longer, he sank to the floor and made himself as comfortable as he possibly could.

Before sleep overtook him, he resolved to somehow rid Victoria's home of its unwanted residents.