children. 

 Oswald. Exactly, or with his children and his children's mother. 

 Manders (starts and clasps his hands). Good heavens! 

 Oswald. What is the matter? 

 Manders. Lives with-with-his children's mother. 

 Oswald. Well, would you rather he should repudiate his children's mother? 

 Manders. Then what you are speaking of are those unprincipled conditions known as irregular unions! 

 Oswald. I have never noticed anything particularly unprincipled about these people's lives. 

 Manders. But do you mean to say that it is possible for a man of any sort of bringing up, and a young woman, to reconcile themselves to such a way of living—and to make no secret of it, either! 

 Oswald. What else are they to do? A poor artist, and a poor girl—it costs a good deal to get married. What else are they to do? 

 Manders. What are they to do? Well, Mr. Alving, I will tell you what they ought to do. They ought to keep away from each other from the very beginning—that is what they ought to do! 

 Oswald. That advice wouldn't have much effect upon hot-blooded young folk who are in love. 

 Mrs. Alving. No, indeed it wouldn't. 

 Manders (persistently). And to think that the authorities tolerate such things! That they are allowed to go on, openly! (Turns to MRS. ALVING.) Had I so little reason, then, to be sadly concerned about your son? In circles where open immorality is rampant—where, one may say, it is honoured— 

 Oswald. Let me tell you this, Mr. Manders. I have been a constant Sunday guest at one or two of these "irregular" households. 

 Manders. On Sunday, too! 

 Oswald. Yes, that is the day of leisure. But never have I heard one objectionable word there, still less have I ever seen anything that could be called immoral. No; but do you know when and where I have 

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