Do You Think Amethysts Can Be The

Valancy Herself Had Never Quite Relinquished A Certain Pitiful, Shamed, Little Hope That Romance Would Come Her Way Yet - Never, Until This Wet, Horrible Morning, When She Wakened To The Fact That She Was Twenty-nine And Unsought By Any Man. Ay, There Lay The Sting. Valancy Did Not Mind So Much Being An Old Maid. After All, She Thought, Being An Old Maid Couldn’t Possibly Be As Dreadful As Being Married To An Uncle Wellignton Or An Uncle Benjamin, Or Even An Uncle Herbert. What Hurt Her Was That She Had Never Had A Chance To Be Anything But An Old Maid.

Why Is It That The Nicest Things Never Are Healthy?

I Read Somewhere Once That Souls Were Like Flowers,' Said Priscilla. 'then Your Soul Is A Golden Narcissus,' Said Anne, 'and Diana's Is Like A Red, Red Rose. Jane's Is An Apple Blossom, Pink And Wholesome And Sweet.' 'and Our Own Is A White Violet, With Purple Streaks In Its Heart,' Finished Priscilla.

Here Sat Marilla Cuthbert, When She Sat At All, Slightly Distrustful Of Sunshine, Which Seemed To Her Too Dancing And Irresponsible A Thing For A World Which Was Meant To Be Taken Seriously.

Rilla's Heart Skipped A Beat — Or, If That Be A Physiological Impossibility, She Thought It Did.