To begin with your own account, there is the crime of sacrilege in using a chapel as a workshop.

Look, those are all tombstones of abbots and other holy people, and under each tombstone one of them is asleep.

Yet there you are, using strong language and whistling and making a horrible noise with hammers just above their heads.

I wonder they don't haunt you; I would if I were they." "Perhaps they do," said Morris, "only I don't see them." "Then they can't be there." "Why not?
Because things are invisible and intangible it does not follow that they don't exist, as I ought to know as much as anyone." "Of course; but I am sure that if there were anything of that sort about you would soon be in touch with it.

With me it is different; I could sleep sweetly with ghosts sitting on my bed in rows." "Why do you say that--about me, I mean ?" asked Morris, in a more earnest voice.
"Oh, I don't know.