next. She'll be casting a spell over me, too. She's cast
it over Matthew. That look he gave me when he went out said
everything he said or hinted last night over again. I wish
he was like other men and would talk things out. A body
could answer back then and argue him into reason. But
what's to be done with a man who just LOOKS?"

Anne had relapsed into reverie, with her chin in her hands
and her eyes on the sky, when Marilla returned from her
cellar pilgrimage. There Marilla left her until the early
dinner was on the table.

"I suppose I can have the mare and buggy this afternoon,
Matthew?" said Marilla.

Matthew nodded and looked wistfully at Anne. Marilla
intercepted the look and said grimly:

"I'm going to drive over to White Sands and settle this
thing. I'll take Anne with me and Mrs. Spencer will
probably make arrangements to send her back to Nova Scotia
at once. I'll set your tea out for you and I'll be home in
time to milk the cows."

Still Matthew said nothing and Marilla had a sense of having
wasted words and breath. There is nothing more aggravating
than a man who won't talk back--unless it is a woman who won't.

Matthew hitched the sorrel into the buggy in due time and
Marilla and Anne set off. Matthew opened the yard gate for