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Chapter XXXV. The Winter at Queen’s

           Anne,FrankStockleysaysthatProfessorTremainesaidGilbertBlythewassuretogetthemedalandthatEmilyClaywouldlikelywintheAveryscholarship.”

           “Thatmaymakemefeelbadlytomorrow,Josie,”laughedAnne,“butjustnowIhonestlyfeelthataslongasIknowthevioletsarecomingoutallpurpledowninthehollowbelowGreenGablesandthatlittlefernsarepokingtheirheadsupinLovers’Lane,it’snotagreatdealofdifferencewhetherIwintheAveryornot.I’vedonemybestandIbegintounderstandwhatismeantbythe‘joyofthestrife.’Nexttotryingandwinning,thebestthingistryingandfailing.Girls,don’ttalkaboutexams!Lookatthatarchofpalegreenskyoverthosehousesandpicturetoyourselfwhatitmustlooklikeoverthepurply-darkbeech-woodsbackofAvonlea.”

           “Whatareyougoingtowearforcommencement,Jane?”askedRubypractically.

           JaneandJosiebothansweredatonceandthechatterdriftedintoasideeddyoffashions.ButAnne,withherelbowsonthewindowsill,hersoftcheeklaidagainstherclaspedhands,andhereyesfilledwithvisions,lookedoutunheedinglyacrosscityroofandspiretothatgloriousdomeofsunsetskyandwoveherdreamsofapossiblefuturefromthegoldentissueofyouth’sownoptimism.AlltheBeyondwasherswithitspossibilitieslurkingrosilyintheoncomingyears—eachyeararoseofpromisetobewovenintoanimmortalchaplet.

           

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