Excerpt from The Glowing Fire

The shady avenue known as the Schauerstrasse, and situated in one of the quiet suburbs of the German port of Konigsberg, looked invitingly cool on this hot August afternoon, and an elderly gentleman heaved a sigh of relief as he passed beneath the overhanging trees and left the glare and noise of the town behind him. The day had been exceptionally sultry, and the atmosphere of the office, in which he carried on the business of a shipping agent, had at last become almost unbearable.

Yet, from the expression on his face as he walked along, and from the manner in which, as he turned in at a gate towards the farther end of the road, he glanced up at the windows of his home, it would seem that he had not left care behind him, but rather as though he expected to find it awaiting him within.

As he went up the path, his wife, a buxom woman of fifty-five or so, came out to meet him. She was always there at this particular hour to welcome him, and as a rule they would sit on the bench inside the porch and look out over the garden, in which they took a justifiable pride.

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