He looked uneasy. “Are you living with—_them_?” he asked.
“No; now no longer.”
“Ah, that’s very good.... Professor Obojanski told me fearful things
about you, and they grieved me. He must have been exaggerating: he bears
you a deep grudge for having broken with him so. For he appreciates you
very highly indeed. He counts your having thrown yourself away like that
as the greatest disappointment he ever had in his life.”
So we went down the road, chatting about old times. He informed me that
Roslawski had gone off on some Polar expedition. I used to call him the
“Autocrat of the Ice-plains”: it seems that he belongs to them at any
rate.
“But now,” Smilowicz blurted out, rather bashfully, “hadn’t you better
come and see us? I have told Sophy (my wife) all about you; she would
like to make your acquaintance, and does not know anybody in Warsaw. And
you will see Andy, my little boy!”