Page:Anne's house of dreams (1920 Canada).djvu/107

 “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. I don’t like the sea so well when it’s calm and quiet. I like the struggle—and the crash—and the noise.”

“I love it in all its moods,” declared Anne. “The sea at Four Winds is to me what Lover’s Lane was at home. Tonight it seemed so free—so untamed—something broke loose in me, too, out of sympathy. That was why I danced along the shore in that wild way. I didn’t suppose anybody was looking, of course. If Miss Cornelia Bryant had seen me she would have forboded a gloomy prospect for poor young Dr. Blythe.”

“You know Miss Cornelia?” said Leslie, laughing. She had an exquisite laugh; it bubbled up suddenly and unexpectedly with something of the delicious quality of a baby’s. Anne laughed, too.

“Oh, yes. She has been down to my house of dreams several times.”

“Your house of dreams?”

“Oh, that’s a dear, foolish little name Gilbert and I have for our home. We just call it that between ourselves. It slipped out before I thought.”

“So Miss Russell’s little white house is your house of dreams,” said Leslie wonderingly. “I had