EARN to care," said Leslie, walking on and speaking
passionately. "If it had been like that I could have prevented it. I
never dreamed of such a thing until that day, a week ago, when he told
me he had finished his book and must soon go away. Then--then I knew.
I felt as if someone had struck me a terrible blow. I didn't say
anything--I couldn't speak--but I don't know what I looked like. I'm
so afraid my face betrayed me. Oh, I would die of shame if I thought
he knew--or suspected."

Anne was miserably silent, hampered by her deductions from her
conversation with Owen. Leslie went on feverishly, as if she found
relief in speech.

"I was so happy all this summer, Anne--happier than I ever was in my
life. I thought it was because everything had been made clear between
you and me, and that it was our friendship which made life seem so
beautiful and full once more. And it WAS, in part--but not all--oh,
not nearly all. I know now why everything was so different. And now
it's all over--and he has gone. How can I live, Anne? When I turned
back into the house this morning after he had gone the solitude struck
me like a blow in the face."

"It won't seem so hard by and by, dear," said Anne, who always felt the
pain of her friends so keenly that she could not speak easy, fluent
words of comforting. Besides, she remembered how well-meant speeches
had hurt her in her own sorrow and was afraid.

"Oh, it seems to me it will grow harder all the time," said Leslie
miserably. "I've nothing to look forward to. Morning will come after
morning--and he will not come back--he will never come back. Oh, when
I think that I will never see him again I feel as if a great brutal
hand had twisted itself among my heartstrings, and was wrenching them.
Once, long ago, I dreamed of love--and I thought it must be
beautiful--and NOW--its like THIS. When he went away yesterday morning
he was so cold and indifferent. He said 'Good-bye, Mrs. Moore' in the
coldest tone in the world--as if we had not even been friends--as if I
meant absolutely nothing to him. I know I don't--I didn't want him to
care--but he MIGHT have been a little kinder."

"Oh, I wish Gilbert would come," thought Anne. She was racked between
her sympathy for Leslie and the necessity of avoiding anything that
would betray Owen's confidence. She knew why his good-bye had been so
cold--why it could not have the cordiality that their good-comradeship
demanded--but