"Anne felt lonelier than ever as she walked home, going by way of the Birch Path and Willowmere. She had not walked that way for many moons. It was a darkly purple bloomy night. The air was heavy with blossom fragrance--almost too heavy. The cloyed senses recoiled from it as from an overfull cup. The birches of the path had grown from the fairy saplings of old to big trees. Everything had changed. Anne felt that she would be glad when the summer was over and she was away at work again. Perhaps life would not seem so empty then.
I've tried the world--it wears no more
The coloring of romance it wore,
sighed Anne--and was straightway much comforted by the romance in the idea of the world being denuded of romance!"
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