“‘Sometimes, when I walk along the corridor here, I fancy I hear [Rebecca] just behind me. That quick, light footstep. I could not mistake it anywhere. And in the minstrels’ gallery above the hall. I’ve seen her leaning there, in the evenings in the old days, looking down at the hall below and calling to the dogs. I can fancy her there now from time to time. It’s almost as though I catch the sound of her dress sweeping the stairs as she comes down to dinner. . . . Do you think she can see us, talking to one another now? . . . Do you think the dead come back and watch the living?’”

—from Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier