It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself
secure ancestral halls for the summer. A colonial mansion, a
hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the
height of romantic felicity-but that would be asking too much of
fate Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer
about it. Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood
so long untenanted? John laughs at me, of course, but one expects
that in marriage. John is practical in the extreme. He has no
patience with faith, an intense horror of superstition, and he
scoffs openly at any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put
down in figures. John is a physician, and PERHAPS-(I would not say
it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great
relief to my mind)-PERHAPS that is one reason I do not get well
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