cally in favour of monogamy. Imszanski, too, always told Martha that, were it not for the fickleness of women and various other untoward conditions, he would be happiest with one woman and one alone.
On this point, Obojanski is a sceptic; this is the only subject on which he can speak wittily.
"And you,—do you intend to marry for love?" Roslawski asks me suddenly, with a subtle tinge of flippancy in his tone, such as men of his kind always use in speaking to women: an attitude with him quite instinctive and unreasoned, since he is very far from sharing Obojanski's prejudice concerning the inferiority of our sex.
A sudden qualm of terror seizes me, but I master it, and say with a tranquil smile: "Your question makes me feel as if under examination. Confess now that you are at present wanting to know what my reply will be, not what I really intend to do."
There is an ironical gleam in his eyes.
"You may take my word for it that I am not," he answers emphatically.
"In that case, I'll tell you as much as I myself know. If I marry for love, it will not last
