“Well, and can’t it be?”
“I don’t really see why it shouldn’t. But there’s no doubt there are immense difficulties in the way. It seems to be necessary, first of all, for there to be not only one exceptional temperament, but two. And that’s a good deal to expect. Of course, the obvious danger is the probability of people getting tired of anything they’ve got. I’m afraid that’s human nature. The toys the children see in the shop-window always seem much less wonderful when they’re home in the nursery. As a brother of mine used to say a little vulgarly, ‘You don’t run after an omnibus when once you’ve caught it.’”
“Perhaps not.”
“As soon as you belong to a person, obviously, Madeline, they don’t value you quite in the same kind of way. The glamour seems to go.”
“But you don’t want necessarily always to be run after, surely? You want to be treasured and valued—all that sort of thing.”
“Yes, I know! But my ideal would be that there should be just as much excitement and romance and fun after marriage as before—if it were possible.”
“Oh, good heavens, Bertha! then, if one were to go by that horrible theory of your brother’s, one ought never to marry the person one loves, if one wants to keep them.”
“No, in theory, one ought not. But then, where are you if he goes and marries someone else? After all, you’d rather he got tired of you than of the other person! Wouldn’t you prefer he should make your life miserable than any other woman’s? Besides, one must take a risk. It’s worth it.”
“I should think it is, indeed!” cried Madeline. “Why, I would marry Rupert if I thought I should never see him again after a month or two—if I knew for a fact he would get tired of me!”
“Of course you would, and quite right too. But remember people are not all alike. There are any number of men who are absolutely incapable of being really in love with anyone who belongs to them. They simply can’t help it. It’s the instinct of the chase. And it’s mere waste of time and energy to attempt to change them.”