“Anybody is liable to rheumatism in her legs, Anne.  It’s only old people who should have rheumatism in their souls, though.  Thank goodness, I never have.  When you get rheumatism in your soul you might as well go and pick out your coffin.”

It was November—­the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.  Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.  Anne was not wont to be troubled with soul fog.  But, somehow, since her return to Redmond for this third year, life had not mirrored her spirit back to her with its old, perfect, sparkling clearness.

Outwardly, existence at Patty’s Place was the same pleasant round of work and study and recreation that it had always been.  On Friday evenings the big, fire-lighted livingroom was crowded by callers and echoed to endless jest and laughter, while Aunt Jamesina smiled beamingly on them all.  The “Jonas” of Phil’s letter came often, running up from St. Columbia on the early train and departing on the late.  He was a general favorite at Patty’s Place, though Aunt Jamesina shook her head and opined that divinity students were not what they used to be.

“He’s very nice, my dear,” she told Phil, “but ministers ought to be graver and more dignified.”

“Can’t a man laugh and laugh and be a Christian still?” demanded Phil.

“Oh, men—­yes.  But I was speaking of ministers, my dear,” said Aunt Jamesina rebukingly.  “And you shouldn’t flirt so with Mr. Blake—­you really shouldn’t.”

“I’m not flirting with him,” protested Phil.

Nobody believed her, except Anne.  The others thought she was amusing herself as usual, and told her roundly that she was behaving very badly.

“Mr. Blake isn’t of the Alec-and-Alonzo type, Phil,” said Stella severely.  “He takes things seriously.  You may break his heart.”

“Do you really think I could?” asked Phil.  “I’d love to think so.”

“Philippa Gordon!  I never thought you were utterly unfeeling.  The idea of you saying you’d love to break a man’s heart!”

“I didn’t say so, honey.  Quote me correctly.  I said I’d like to think I could break it.  I would like to know I had the power to do it.”

“I don’t understand you, Phil.  You are leading that man on deliberately—­and you know you don’t mean anything by it.”

“I mean to make him ask me to marry him if I can,” said Phil calmly.

“I give you up,” said Stella hopelessly.