Page:Anne's house of dreams (1920 Canada).djvu/106

 “Yes, I know,” said the girl. “I am Leslie Moore—Mrs. Dick Moore,” she added stiffly.

Anne was silent for a moment from sheer amazement. It had not occurred to her that this girl was married—there seemed nothing of the wife about her. And that she should be the neighbor whom Anne had pictured as a commonplace Four Winds housewife! Anne could not quickly adjust her mental focus to this astonishing change.

“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.