ng her own address this time. She does not seem able to
think of anything any more. "Where is he now?" She closes her eyes and
sees him on the litter, in the ambulance. Suddenly she feels that he is
here beside her. The cab sways, she feels the terror of being thrown out
again, and she screams aloud. The cab halts before the door of her home.
She dismounts hastily, hurries with light steps through the house door,
unseen by the concierge, runs up the stairs, opens her apartment door
very gently, aind slips unseen into her own room. She undresses hastily,
hiding the mud-stained clothes in her cupboard. To-morrow, when they are
dry, she can clean them herself. She washes hands and face, and slips
into a loose housegown.

The bell rings. She hears the maid open the door, she hears her
husband's voice, and the rattle of his cane on the hat-stand. She feels
she must be brave now or it will all have been in vain. She hurries to
the dining-room, entering one door as her husband comes in at the other.

"Ah, you're home already?" he asks.

"Why, yes," she replies, "I have been home some time."

"They evidently didn't hear you come in."

She smiles without effort. But it fatigues her horribly to have to
smile. He kisses her forehead.

The little boy is already at his place by the table. He has been waiting
some time, and has fallen asleep, his head resting on an open book.

She sits down beside him; her husband takes his chair opposite, takes
up a paper, and glances carelessly at it. Then he says: "The others are
still talking away there."

"What about?" she asks.

And he begins to tell her about the meeting, at length. Emma pretends to
listen, and nods now and then. But she does not hear what he is saying,
she feels dazed, like one who has escaped terrible danger as by a
miracle; she can feel only this: "I am safe; I am at home." And while
her husband is talking she pulls her chair nearer the boy's and lifts
his head to her shoulder. Fatigue inexpressible comes over her. She can
no longer control herself; she feels that her eyes are closing, that she
is dropping asleep.

Suddenly another possibility presents itself to her mind, a possibility
that she had dismissed the moment she turned to leave the ditch where
she had fallen. Suppose he were not dead! Suppose--oh, but it is
impossible--his eyes--his--lips--not a breath came from them! But there
are trances that are like death, which deceive even practised eyes, and
sh