"I see. With something that I wasn't."
"No, with something that you were, that you are, only she doesn't know it."
"Then," said Majendie, "you can't get out of it, she's in love with me."
"Oh no, no, you dear goose, not with you. To be in love with you she'd have to be in love with everything you're not, as well as everything you are; with everything you have been, with everything you never were, with everything you will be, with everything you might be, could be, should be."
"That's a large order, Edie."
"There's a larger one than that. She might sweep all that overboard, see it go by whole pieces (the best pieces) at a time, and still be in love with the dear, incomprehensible, indescribable you. That," said Edie, triumphant in her wisdom, "is what being in love is."
"And do you think she isn't in it?"
"No. Not anywhere near it. But—it's a big but—"
"I don't care how big it is. Don't bother me with it."
"Bother you? Why, it's a beautiful but. As I said, she isn't in love with you; but she may be any minute. It's just touch and go with her. It depends on you."