"Never mind Phil and the violets just now, Anne," said Gilbert quietly, taking her hand in a clasp from which she could not free it. "There is something I want to say to you." "Oh, don't say it," cried Anne, pleadingly. "Don't--PLEASE, Gilbert." "I must. Things can't go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I--I can't tell you how much. Will you promise me that some day you'll be my wife?" "I--I can't," said Anne miserably. "Oh, Gilbert--you--you've spoiled everything." "Don't you care for me at all?" Gilbert asked after a very dreadful pause, during which Anne had not dared to look up. "Not--not in that way. I do care a great deal for you as a friend. But I don't love you, Gilbert." "But can't you give me some hope that you will--yet?" "No, I can't," exclaimed Anne desperately. "I never, never can love you--in that way--Gilbert. You must never speak of this to me again." There"