“I haven’t done anything else for you,” she said.
“It isn’t for anything you have done that I love you.”
“What then?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose it is because I can’t help it.”
“Oh, then you are becoming like me, for I can’t help loving everybody.”
“I shall never be good enough for that,” said I. “What is love, as you understand it?” asked Mona.
“Love—love,” I hesitated; “why, it is the feeling I have in my heart for you. Love is what kept hope alive when you were lost and gave me such joy when I heard your voice and knew we had found you. Love makes every task light that is done for you and every place where you are the brightest spot in the universe. Even this delightful world of Mars is more beautiful than ever because you are here. Love, if mutual, is a precious bond, uniting two hearts and making them beat in harmony. Cannot you and I be joined in heart, Mona?”
“My dear friend,” she replied, “I am very sorry I cannot share your feeling, but I do not understand such love as you have been trying to describe.”
“Then I fear you do not love me,” I responded, with great sadness in my voice.
“Oh, don’t say that,” she exclaimed. “Indeed I do love you. Now, how can I prove it to you? What is the opposite of love?”