"I don't like the crowd tonight," said Ghost. "I have been watching it. There's trouble in the air."

"What is wrong with it?" asked Maxwell.

"There are an awful lot of creeps from English Lit. This is not their hangout. Mostly the crowd here are Time and Supernatural."

"You mean this Shakespeare business?"

"That might be it," said Ghost.

Maxwell handed Carol her drink, pushed another across the table to Oop.

"It seems a shame," Carol said to Ghost, "not to give you one. Couldn't you even sniff it, just a little?" "Don't let it bother you," said Oop. "The guy gets drunk on moonbeams. He can dance on rainbows. He has a lot of advantages you and I don't have. For one thing, he's immortal. What could kill a ghost?"

"I'm not sure of that," said Ghost.

"There's one thing that bothers me," said Carol. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," said Ghost.

"It's this business of your not knowing who you are the ghost of. Is that true or is it just a joke?"

"It is true," said Ghost. "And I don't mind telling you, it's embarrassing and confusing. But I've just plain forgotten. From England-that much, at least, I know. But the name I can't recall. I would suspect most other ghosts-"

"We have no other ghosts," said Maxwell. "Contacts with other ghosts, of course, and conversations and interviews with them. But no other ghost has ever come to live with us. Why did you do it, Ghost-come to live with us."

"He's a natural chiseler," said Oop. "Always figuring out the angles."

"You're wrong there," Maxwell said. "It's damned little we can do for Ghost."

"You give me," said Ghost, "a sense of reality."

"Well, no matter what the reason," said Maxwell, "I am glad you did it."

"The three of you," said Carol, "have been friends for a long, long time."