“Oh, Marilla⁠—and what happened?⁠—why didn’t you⁠—”

“We had a quarrel. I wouldn’t forgive him when he asked me to. I meant to, after a while⁠—but I was sulky and angry and I wanted to punish him first. He never came back⁠—the Blythes were all mighty independent. But I always felt⁠—rather sorry. I’ve always kind of wished I’d forgiven him when I had the chance.”

“So you’ve had a bit of romance in your life, too,” said Anne softly.

“Yes, I suppose you might call it that. You wouldn’t think so to look at me, would you? But you never can tell about people from their outsides. Everybody has forgot about me and John. I’d forgotten myself. But it all came back to me when I saw Gilbert last Sunday.”