“You will pardon me, sir,” he said in a subdued tone, “but I think that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book. “I’m a ghoul! So you can become a ghoul? You should settle down, John, get married, have children. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor.