![]() ![]() The dim white moth that fluttered past them on the lawn was, she thought sadly, like a ghost of faded love. Everything seemed to have for her some dreary meaning now. They passed an old deserted house with sad and broken windows that had once danced with light. The moon was shining over dew-wet fields. The air was filled with the breath of spruce and spice fern. They walked silently home from the Glen station by the short-cut to Ingleside. ![]() For the first time Anne noticed little glints of grey in the hair above his ears. He leaned his head back on the car seat and shut his eyes. Anne, he reflected, had always been a bit sensitive about her hair. Gilbert thought he was wise in dropping a dangerous subject. "Oh, it is too bad my hair is red," said Anne icily. It may be all right for some hair but not for yours." ![]() "What made you do your hair that way?" said Gilbert still absently. who felt that she had, in Jane Welsh Carlyle's splendid phrase, "spent the evening under a harrow." "Had a nice evening?" asked Gilbert, more absently than ever as he helped her on the train. ![]()
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