"Yes, I like thinking things out. Of course I may be all wrong because I don't take all this love business enough into account. That may alter everything."
Caroline laughed outright. "You think it's all tommy-rot, don't you?" she asked.
"Well, I know it can't be, really, because it seems to take the most sensible people. I suppose most of them get married because of it, at least in England. But I should think—I don't know—that the happiest husbands and wives are those that like the same sort of thing, not those that are most in love with each other to begin with."
"I used to think that," said Caroline. "I'm not sure that I do now. I have never loved anybody—in the way that B has, I mean—so perhaps I don't know more than you do about it. But I do think it ought to begin with that. I suppose marriage isn't just having a companion you like. If it were I shouldn't want to marry at all, because I have just the companionship I want at home."
"Francis Parry wanted to marry you, didn't he?"
"You're very sharp, darling," said Caroline with a smile. "I didn't know you'd noticed anything."
"You and B have always treated me rather too much like a baby. I haven't minded much, or perhaps you wouldn't have, for I should have talked to you about things more. But it's going to be different now. There are lots of things I shall want to talk to you about. I like Francis; but I'm rather glad you didn't marry him, all the same. I think he'd have made exactly the right husband for B, though."
Caroline laughed. "That's a new idea," she said. "Do you think Dick would have made exactly the right husband for me?"
"Well, yes, I do," was Barbara's rather surprising answer. "You'll be happier settled down, when you do marry."
"You don't settle down much as a sailor's wife."