"Yes, I know. But don't you think one learns to see things a little differently as time goes on?"
"Nothing could make me see that differently. I have always counted myself yours for life—and you mine. I have always felt sure that you did too."
"At all events—nothing can ever alter our friendship," remarked Bee cheerfully.
"It would be very much altered, if I believed that you didn't care for me as I care for you."
"I don't think it's a question of caring—but only—one never knows what life may be by-and-by."
Amy made an impatient movement. "Of course I see what all this means. I suppose you're thinking of marrying some day."
Another little pause, broken by Bee's soft tones.
"One can't shut one's eyes quite to possibilities," she said. "Either you or I might some day come across the right man. I dare say it isn't likely—but still—"
"So—that's it!" Amy drew a long breath. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Who is the lucky person?"
"You are talking nonsense now, Amy. All I say is that the thing might some day happen for either of us. And then—I'm afraid the little house—"