"Then--then you live in that gray house up the brook,"
she stammered.
"Yes. I should have gone over to call on you long
ago," said the other. She did not offer any
explanation or excuse for not having gone.
"I wish you WOULD come," said Anne, recovering herself
somewhat. "We're such near neighbors we ought to be
friends. That is the sole fault of Four Winds--there
aren't quite enough neighbors. Otherwise it is
perfection."
"You like it?"
"LIKE it! I love it. It is the most beautiful place I
ever saw."
"I've never seen many places," said Leslie Moore,
slowly, "but I've always thought it was very lovely
here. I--I love it, too."
She spoke, as she looked, shyly, yet eagerly. Anne had
an odd impression that this strange girl--the word
"girl" would persist-- could say a good deal if she
chose.
"I often come to the shore," she added.
"So do I," said Anne. "It's a wonder we haven't met
here before."
"Probably you come earlier in the evening than I do.
It is generally late--almost dark--when I come. And I
love to come just after a storm--like this.
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