Not to mention the living who have had her! . . . Sam doesn’t know about them . . . and I’ll bet he couldn’t believe it of her even if she confessed! . . .
Marsden
[Thinking baffledly]
Wrong again! . . . he isn’t lying . . . but I feel he’s hiding something . . . why does he speak so resentfully of Gordon’s memory? . . . why do I sympathize? . . .
[In a strange mocking ironic tone]
I can quite appreciate your feeling about Gordon. I wouldn’t care to share with a ghost-lover myself. That species of dead is so invulnerably alive! Even a doctor couldn’t kill one, eh?
[He forces a laugh—then in a friendly confidential tone]
Gordon is too egregious for a ghost. That was the way Nina’s father felt about him, too.
[Suddenly reminded of the dead man—in penitently sad tones]
You didn’t know her father, did you? A charming old fellow!
Darrell
[Hearing a noise from the hall—warningly]
Sstt!
[Nina enters slowly. She looks from one to the other with a queer, quick, inquisitive stare, but her face is a pale expressionless mask drained of all emotional response to human contacts. It is as if her eyes were acting on their own account as restless, prying, recording instruments. The two men have risen and stare at her anxiously. Darrell moves back and to one side until he is standing in relatively the same place as Marsden had occupied
