"What, and is it really you again?" quoth I:
"I again, what else did you expect?" quoth She.

The man is weary of his old patched up body, now no longer needed:
weary of the noisy nuisances of life, and the tiresome and futile
gabble of humanity: resentful, now that his spirit has actually
survived death, when he remembers the scientific books he had read
which almost struck despair in him. He petulantly says,

"If you knew but how I dwelt down here!" quoth I:
"And was I so better off up there?" quoth She.

He is for immediate departure, leaving his empty carcass where it
lies; but she reminds him of the necessity for decent burial. Much
is to be done before they can begin to enjoy together their new and
freer existence. There is the body to be buried; the obituary
notices to be written for the papers: the parson and undertaker to be
summoned: the formalities of the funeral: the selection of a proper
tombstone, with care for the name and accurate carving of the date
of death thereupon: and finally a bit of verse in the way of final
flourish. So these two spirits look on with impatience at the
funeral exercises, at the weeping friends left behind, and not until
the coffin is under ground, are they at liberty to depart from
terrestial scenes. If we do survive the death of the body, with what
curious sensations must we regard the solemn ceremonies of its
interment!