The Ghost and Mrs. Muir Page #4

Why, I mean because

of the way you died.

The way I died, madam?

I mean because

you committed suicide.

What made you think

I committed suicide?

Mr. Coombe said--

Coombe's a fool.

They're all fools.

I went to sleep

in front of that confounded

gas heater in my bedroom...

and I must have kicked the gas on

with my foot in my sleep.

It was a stormy night like this

with half a gale blowing from

the south-southwest

into my windows...

so I shut them as

any sensible man would.

Wouldn't you?

Yes, I suppose so.

Then the coroner's jury

brought in a suicide

because me blasted

charwoman testified

I always slept

with me windows open.

How the devil should

she know how I slept?

Oh, I'm so glad.

Do you have a strange

sense of humor, madam?

I mean because you

didn't commit suicide...

but if you didn't,

why do you haunt?

Because I have plans

for me house

which don't include

a pack of strangers barging in

and making themselves at home.

Then you were trying

to frighten me away.

You call that trying?

I'd barely started.

No, that was enough

for all the others.

They didn't want any part of it,

let me tell you.

Didn't even stop

to weigh anchor.

They just cut their

cables and ran.

I think it's very mean

of you frightening people...

childish, too.

In your case,

I'm prepared to admit

I charted the course

with regret.

You're not a bad-looking

woman, you know...

especially

when you're asleep.

So you were in my room

this afternoon.

My room, madam.

I thought I'd dreamed it.

Did you open the window

to frighten me?

I opened the window because

I didn't want another accident

with the blasted gas.

Women are such fools.

You, of all people,

should not have brought that up.

I wouldn't call that remark

in the best of taste.

Well, I'm sure it

was very kind of you...

but I am quite capable

of taking care of myself.

Now, if you don't mind.

Well, what's the matter now?

I just wanted to see

if you were really there.

Of course I'm really here...

and I'll still be here when

you've packed up and gone.

But I'm not going.

The house suits me perfectly.

My dear woman,

it's not your house.

It is as long as I pay rent.

Pay rent to me blasted cousin!

He's the legal owner.

Legal owner be hanged!

It's my house...

and I want it turned into

a home for retired seamen.

Then you should have

said so in your will.

I didn't leave a will.

Why not?

I didn't expect to kick

the blasted gas on with me foot!

I won't be shouted at.

Everyone shouts at me

and orders me about...

and I'm sick of it,

do you hear?

Blast! Blast! Blast!

Temper. Ha ha!

Or laughed at, either.

I won't leave this house.

You can't make me

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