“I’m afraid so,—at least, we shan’t quarrel exactly. But we can never be just as we were.”
“I’m rather glad,” said Ralston. “I never believed much in that friendship between you two.”
“Oh, Jack! We loved each other so dearly! And it was so nice—we told each other everything, you know.”
“Yes—but you’ve outgrown each other.”
Katharine looked at him quickly, in surprise.
“That’s exactly what Hester said to-day,” she answered. “It seemed to me to be such nonsense.”
“Well—you have, and she’s quite right if she says so. That sort of school-girlish friendship doesn’t amount to anything when you begin to grow up. I’ve seen lots of them in society. They always break up as soon as one of the two marries and has other things to think about. Besides, between you and Hester, there’s Crowdie. It’s perfectly clear from what you’ve told me that she’s jealous. If you’re not careful she’ll try and do you some mischief or other. She’s jealous, and she has a streak of cruelty in her. She’ll make you suffer somehow—trust the ingenuity of a woman like that! She’d burn her most intimate friend at a slow fire for Crowdie any day.”
“Well—isn’t she right?” asked Katharine. “I would, for you, I’m sure—if it would do you any good.”
“It wouldn’t,” laughed Ralston. “Those cases don’t arise nowadays. Sometimes one wishes they might. We’ve all got a lot of cruelty and romance in us somewhere. We all believe in the immutability of the affections, more or less.”
“Don’t laugh, Jack!” said Katharine. “Love has nothing to do with friendship. Besides, you and I aren’t like other people. We’re always going to care—just as we always have. We’re faithful people, you and I.”