Anne "felt instinctively" that romance was peeping at her around a corner.

I do know my own mind,' protested Anne. 'The trouble is, my mind changes and then I have to get acquainted with it all over again.

Houses are like people - some you like and some you don't like - and once in a while there is one you love.

Words aren't made — they grow,' said Anne.

It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.

Anne laughed and sighed. She felt very old and mature and wise — which showed how young she was.

Isn't it better to have your heart broken than to have it wither up? Before it could be broken it must have felt something splendid. That would be worth the pain.