"Oh," she interrupted quickly. "I feel sure they'll be happy. Theirs is a marriage for love."
Looking closely at her, he asked: "Do you believe in love?"
"Of course," she answered, raising her cup to her face to hide her embarrassment.
"What kind of love?" he persisted.
"Real love."
"What do you call real love?"
She opened her eyes wide, as if greatly astonished.
"Why—why," she stammered, "don't you think there is such a thing as real love?"
"Certainly I do," he laughed, amused at her ingenuousness. "But I don't think it's what the sentimental schoolgirl feels for the college football player. As for love at first sight, I consider that simply absurd. To my way of thinking, love isn't a spontaneous combustion. It's a slow, steady growth and the soil in which it grows best is—respect."
"Perhaps you are right," she said hesitatingly.