"They can't hold out against the years," Judith repeated dreamily. "It's as if love was too delicate for every-day use. They get over caring."
"I wonder why?" said Douglas.
"I think people get sick of each other, Doug! Why, I think a lot more of you, since you've been away for a few months. And I get tired of my own mother, bless her dear old heart, and I love her to death. But she's my mother and I can't stop loving her. But I certainly couldn't stand a man around the house, year after year. No marriage for me! No, sir!"
"But what will you do about love?" asked Douglas.
Judith's burning eyes grew soft. "Cherish it," she answered in a low voice. "Keep it forever. Never murder it by marriage. It's the most wonderful thing that comes into human life."
Douglas smiled sadly. "You talk as if you were a thousand years old, Judith, on the one hand and like a baby on the other. What will you do, marry without love? Somehow the children have got to be cared for by responsible parties."
"Responsible parties!" Jude was derisive. "Do you call Dad a responsible party?"
"He's fed and clothed us."
"What does that amount to?" said Judith largely. "An orphan asylum would do that. The kind of parents kids need are the ones that will answer your questions. I mean the real questions. The ones we don't dare to ask."
"About life and sex and all those things!" Doug nodded understandingly. There was silence, then Doug shook his head. "I don't know how things would go along without marriage. Just you wait until you fall in love and see how you feel. You'll want to marry just like all the rest of us."