The remainder of that day was a blur for Anne. She told herself over and over again that it was foolish to be excited. Who was she to think she could defeat hundreds of scholarly college students at an essay contest? She had all but convinced herself to ignore the scholarship. It would only lead to further disappointment, and at the young age of 18, Anne Shirley had experienced more disappointment than many people did in their entire lives. She was sick of it.
But the pink glow of the sunset coming in through the windows lured her out of the shop after she closed, rather than upstairs to her modest apartment. She told herself she was simply taking a short walk; after all, the grounds of Redmond were much more beautiful than many other areas in Kingsport. And, if the English building happened to be situated in the most beautiful spot on the campus, could anyone say that was her fault?
From a short distance, a young woman surrounded by a group of giggling coeds spotted a slender, red-haired girl standing in front of the building. She was clasping her hands and staring up at large oak doors as if in prayer. Something about her expression was captivating.
"Phil, darling, come back to us. What are you looking at? We'll be late to the party!"
Ignoring them, Phil sauntered over to Anne.
"Excuse me, do I know you? I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before."
Anne blushed. "I work at the shop down the lane," she confessed. "You probably saw me there."
"Well, there's nothing shameful in that, honey. What are you looking at? Oh! The scholarship poster. Are you going to apply? Father wants me to, but I'm better at math than English. And it's not as if he couldn't pay for me without it."
"Oh," said Anne coldly.
Phil laughed, "Don't take that tone with me! I'm not proud of being rich. Not that I have a problem with it. I was just telling you how it is, that's all. I'm not conceited, though I am terribly spoiled, probably. But enough of me! What is your name?"
"Anne Shirley."
"Mine is Philippa Gordon, but everyone calls me Phil. You know, Anne, I'm beginning to feel quite ashamed for coming over here and attacking you so mercilessly. I spotted you from over there (pointing to the group of girls), and I simply felt that I had to introduce myself. But now that I've done it, I feel like a classic fool. And I'm making it worse with every word I say!"
Anne couldn't help laughing.
"There, you do have a nice smile! Mine's dreadfully crooked, though my beaus tell me it's adorable. What do you think of it?" asked Phil, grinning widely.
"I'd say it's the most delicious smile I ever saw," Anne replied.
"Ha! Now you're teasing. Oh, would you look at those girls? Beckoning to me as if I were a dog. We're off to a party, of course. Anne, you should join us!"
"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly," said Anne, who, though profoundly grateful for the invitation, could not allow herself to accept.
"Why not! What else are you going to do? It's Saturday night, honey."
"Thank you for inviting me, really," said Anne sincerely, "but I can't go. I have work to do. Also, I'm not even a student here."
"Pooh, who cares about that? Anyway, you will be after you write that essay."
Anne smiled, thanked her again for the invitation, but firmly declined. Phil threw her arms in the air helplessly, and, suddenly, smothered Anne with a hug, then ran away to join her friends. Anne's heart thrilled with this warm gesture it was probably the first embrace anyone had given her since her infancy.
She walked slowly away, swelling with emotion, and finally sat down on a bench underneath an apple tree to enjoy the rest of the sunset. Anne's soul stretched out toward the glowing sky like with childlike rapture. She did not at first notice that someone had sat down beside her.
"I just can't get away from you today, can I Anne? First you hunt me down in the storm, now you invade my favorite star-gazing bench. How am I supposed to react to this?" Gilbert asked.
"You'll have a fine time finding the stars amongst these orange wisps," Anne said dreamily, gazing at the fading sunset.
"I don't know Anne. You're hair's pretty thick, but I'd be surprised if it could blot out the entire sky."
Anne's eyes flashed. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to get in your way," she said coldly, standing up. "Good evening, Mr. Blythe."
Gilbert laughed and started to run after her. He caught hold of her arm and pulled her around toward him. Their faces were very close; Anne could feel his warm breath against her cheek.
"You're hurting my arm," she said, after a pause. He let go of it at once.
"I'm sorree," he whispered, staring at her intently.
Anne's eyes faltered and she looked down at the ground. "I should go. It's getting late."
"Here, let me walk you home. You ran off on me earlier when I tried."
Anne suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired too tired to object. Gilbert reached for her arm and tucked it inside his. She could have managed without his support, but physical intimacy was something she had lacked her whole life. She had never had a mother to kiss her, a father to tuck her in at night, or any close girlfriends to walk hand in hand to school. So she submitted willingly. She felt a strange sensation of safety, walking arm in arm with Gilbert like that.