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Three Deaths "Always the same question!" thought the invalid.

"Anyhow, it doesn't seem to interfere with his appetite."

"Oh, it's nothing!" she murmured between her teeth.

"I'll tell you what, my friend, I fear you'll be all the worse for the journey, especially in this weather, and Edward Ivanovich says the same thing. What do you say to turning back home?"

She was too angry to speak.

"The weather may be better presently, we could postpone the journey, and you would then be better—we might all go together."

"Pardon me! If I hadn't listened to you all this time, I might have been in Berlin by now and quite well again."

"What was to be done, my angel, you know it was quite impossible. But if you would only stop at home for a month say, you would get ever so much better, I could complete my business, and we might take the children."

"The children are well, but I am not."

"But, my friend, just think! What with this weather, suppose you grew worse on the road while at home, at any rate "

"Home indeed! Why, I should only die at home," replied the sick woman passionately.

But the word die plainly frightened her—she grew silent and looked interrogatively at her husband. He cast down his eyes and was silent. The mouth of the invalid suddenly put on a childish pout and the tears flowed from her eyes. Her husband covered