"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like
Leslie's?" she asked wistfully.
"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it
is for the world," said Gilbert, with one or two
convincing accompaniments.
You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair--or hair of
any color but"--
"Red," said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction.
"Yes, red--to give warmth to that milk-white skin and
those shining gray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair
wouldn't suit you at all Queen Anne--MY Queen
Anne--queen of my heart and life and home."
"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like," said Anne
magnanimously.
CHAPTER 13
A GHOSTLY EVENING
One evening, a week later, Anne decided to run over the
fields to the house up the brook for an informal call.
It was an evening of gray fog that had crept in from
the gulf, swathed the harbor, filled the glens and
valleys, and clung heavily to the autumnal meadows.
Through it the sea sobbed and shuddered. Anne saw Four
Winds in a new aspect, and found it weird and
mysterious and fascinating; but it also gave her a
little feeling of loneliness.
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