came to light up the heavy gloom of her horizon.
They were home again. Ivan Hron’s leave had not yet expired. He went to his office to see whether there were news of any importance, but after he had settled that he need not resume his duties for another fortnight, he returned to his wife. On the next day he made preparations for another journey. ‘I have to attend to some business in the country, Magda,’ he said, ‘I want to settle it while I am on leave. But I shall be back in a couple of days or so, and if you like we can then go for another trip. Perhaps a favourable wind may blow me in the direction of your home. I may see your parents; but I am not sure.’
When he took leave of her, with his bag in his hand, he remarked casually: ‘Well, Magda, if I should find a little orphan by the wayside, you would not mind my bringing her along? It would be best to get one from the country; all her former ties, whatever they might be, would then be severed, and she would begin a new life in Prague. If you should not take to her, we will send her back.’
‘Do as you think best,’ said Magda with resignation. ‘I am sure I shall approve of
