llow and they would be very happy together,
even if some indefinable zest was missing out of life. When Roy came
down that evening and asked Anne to walk in the park every one at
Patty's Place knew what he had come to say; and every one knew, or
thought they knew, what Anne's answer would be.

"Anne is a very fortunate girl," said Aunt Jamesina.

"I suppose so," said Stella, shrugging her shoulders. "Roy is a nice
fellow and all that. But there's really nothing in him."

"That sounds very like a jealous remark, Stella Maynard," said Aunt
Jamesina rebukingly.

"It does--but I am not jealous," said Stella calmly. "I love Anne and I
like Roy. Everybody says she is making a brilliant match, and even Mrs.
Gardner thinks her charming now. It all sounds as if it were made in
heaven, but I have my doubts. Make the most of that, Aunt Jamesina."

Roy asked Anne to marry him in the little pavilion on the harbor shore
where they had talked on the rainy day of their first meeting. Anne
thought it very romantic that he should have chosen that spot. And his
proposal was as beautifully worded as if he had copied it, as one of
Ruby Gillis' lovers had done, out of a Deportment of Courtship and
Marriage. The whole effect was quite flawless. And it was also sincere.
There was no doubt that Roy meant what he said. There was no false note
to jar the symphony. Anne felt that she ought to be thrilling from head
to foot. But she wasn't; she was horribly cool. When Roy paused for his
answer she opened her lips to say her fateful yes. And then--she found
herself trembling as if she were reeling back from a precipice. To her
came one of those moments when we realize, as by a blinding flash of
illumination, more than all our previous years have taught us. She
pulled her hand from Roy's.

"Oh, I can't marry you--I can't--I can't," she cried, wildly.

Roy turned pale--and also looked rather foolish. He had--small blame to
him--felt very sure.

"What do you mean?" he stammered.

"I mean that I can't marry you," repeated Anne desperately. "I thought I
could--but I can't."

"Why can't you?" Roy asked more calmly.

"Because--I don't care enough for you."

A crimson streak came into Roy's face.

"So you've just been amusing yourself these two years?" he said slowly.

"No, no, I haven't," gasped poor Anne. Oh, how could she explain? She
COULDN'T explain. There are some things that cannot be explained. "I did
think I cared--truly I did--but