“You know,” she said, “I realize that they don't mean us to be friends.”
“Why not?”
“I told you why.”
“But that's silly.”
“Yes; but you don't know my father!”
“I suppose he's fearfully fond of you.”
“You see, I'm an only child. And so are you—of your mother. Isn't it a bore? There's so much expected of one. By the time they've done expecting, one's as good as dead.”
“Yes,” muttered Jon, “life's beastly short. One wants to live forever, and know everything.”
“And love everybody?”
“No,” cried Jon; “I only want to love once—you.”