But you're not.

You just wish you had murdered me.

You hate girls--you said so.

And I don't know what business it is of yours, if I want to play a joke on my cousin, or why you had to be sleeping outside, anyway.

I've a perfect right to be a ghost if I choose--and I don't call it nice, or polite, or gentlemanly for you to chase me all over the place with a gun, trying to kill me! I'll never speak to you again as long as I live.