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"From the living, healthy ranks of the workers."

"I still don't understand." Anna tried to talk in a light tone.

"It's easy to understand," Soma said after a short pause. "The doctor has forbidden me to work."

"Maybe the work you do is bad for your health," Anna insisted.

"For a man without lungs"--again Soma smiled his pathetic smile-"all work is dangerous. I'm ready for the worms."

The silence that fell on the room became thicker every second. All thoughts of Eric fled from Anna's mind. "Pity for the fallen," she thought, nervously biting her fingernails. "But pity is not enough. Somewhere there must be something to revive him." She summoned her strength and said aloud:

"That's nonsense, Soma. Modern medicine can cure worse sicknesses than yours. And it's just ridiculous to give up hope. Believe me, you will soon be all well. You'll make a great name for yourself in journalism." Even as she spoke, she was aware that her words sounded empty. The unsureness and lack of conviction within her resounded in her own mind like an empty echo, and brought only a cynical smile to Soma's lips.

Again a silence fell. But this time it seemed tense and sharpened. He lay quietly, the pillow supporting his head. Anna sat at the foot of the bed, hardly daring to move, her senses taut. Instinctively she sought for something to focus on. She had the feeling that she had slipped away from reality.

Suddenly everything seemed fantastically comical. She wanted to laugh without any reason. She could feel the ripples of laughter pressing against her ribs. She bit at her lips until they almost bled. Then her eyes fell on the red

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