_Thursday._--The heart is bigger again to-day--about an inch each way. The
weight of it is terrible to carry.... I have to take taxis.... This evening
it was going at thirty-two to the minute....

_Friday._--Last night, when I tried to count the beats, I could not find
it.... It must have stopped.... Anton Gregorovitch says it is the end....
This is my last entry....

_Saturday._--My face is very blue. It is like a forget-me-not ... it is
like a volume of _Hansard_....

I shall go to see the doctor as I promised ... he can do nothing, but it
will interest him to see how much bigger the heart has grown in the last
few days....

No more....

_Sunday._--The doctor said it was much better.... It is undilated again....
After all I am not going to die. But the reaction to work is still bad.
This evening I make it sixty to the minute....

_Monday._--This morning's count was seventy-two. It is terrible....

A.P.H.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Sympathetic Old Lady._ "AND WHEN YOU WENT DOWN FOR THE
THIRD TIME THE WHOLE OF YOUR PAST LIFE OF COURSE FLASHED BEFORE YOUR EYES?"