“Sometimes I think the solution lies in marriage,” said Fräulein Sonia.
“If I find a simple, peaceful man who adores me and will look after
mamma—a man who would be for me a pillow—for genius cannot hope to
mate—I shall marry him.... You know the Herr Professor has paid me very
marked attentions.”
“Oh, Fräulein Sonia,” I said, very pleased with myself, “why not marry
him to your mother?” We were passing the hairdresser’s shop at the
moment. Fräulein Sonia clutched my arm.
“You, you,” she stammered. “The cruelty. I am going to faint. Mamma to
marry again before I marry—the indignity. I am going to faint here and
now.”