So it wasn't actually supposed to be ANOTHER month until you got this… all I can say is that life just keeps happening- as it no doubt does for everyone. Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, following and reading along- thank you for your encouragement, and in some cases for checking up on me! I'm fine- err, ish. There are a few health concerning-type-things, but nothing definite- just lots of blood tests, and enough vitamins to sink a battleship. And sleeeeeeep. Why did I ever undervalue it as a child?

Anyhow, as I like to let you know my plans, I am clearly moving much slower- however, you should have the next update sooner. There is still a bit left to do in this story, and as I told you, I have plans… I'm guessing perhaps ten more chapters? Many thanks especially to the wonderful writers on here- it's so wonderful doing this with you all.

Love, Cate.

Chapter 32

October passed in a last blaze of sunshine, and in between classes and the obligatory college functions, Anne and Gilbert could usually be found in the park making the most of the warm afternoons, before ending the day together in front of the warm fireplace with their notebooks and textbooks. There were exams to be prepared for and essays that had to be submitted, and on several occasions, Anne looked across at Gilbert to find him sound asleep on the sofa, a chemistry book perched on his chest. The Cooper prize was often on Anne's mind, and she found herself studying Gilbert carefully for signs of exhaustion, a slim hand stroking his stubbly cheek as he slept. Repeatedly he had assured her that he was fine- usually with several convincing accompaniments. He was happy, he was healthy, he had her. All was well.

Gilbert's twenty-fifth birthday had passed amongst a whirlwind of social functions, on that particular week- culminating in a surprise birthday party at Patty's Place that night. He had smiled as he watched Anne bounce around their house in barely contained excitement that day, clearly realising that something was in the wind- however, the look of glee on his wife's face had been so adorable, that he'd let it pass without comment. Phil had insisted on baking the cake herself, and she had asserted that mathematically there was nothing wrong with it- even if she had to shave off most of the left-hand side of the cake, to make it level with the right. Patty' Place had been humming that evening with young people, and a good night was had by all- even if the guest of honour had stolen Anne away to the corner of the orchard in the moonlight, before returning to the house late with decidedly rumpled clothing and a self-satisfied expression that made Anne blush.

November saw the return of icy winds to the little harbour, and Mrs Whitley could be seen inspecting the windows of the boardinghouse and cottage for drafts, advising Anne to have their washing ready to be collected early in the mornings. Marilla and Mrs Lynde had worried about the cold weather, and insisted on making the couple a set of warm, flannel sheets for the winter. They had arrived carefully wrapped around several jars of pickles and jams (joining those Mrs Blythe had sent the previous week), and hinting at a quilt for Christmas: prompting Gilbert to comment that clearly neither woman had shared a bed with anyone for some time. Anne had laughed and rebuked him at once for his cheekiness- however she acknowledged that he had a point. The little bedroom may have been cold, but each night Anne curled herself into Gilbert's side with all the indolence of a cat, asserting that he was by far the warmest place in their snug little home.

On the fourteenth of November, as the senior English class were packing up their belongings after a long day, Anne picked up the manuscript that Professor Winston had handed her at the start of the lesson. Anne looked with some stupefaction at the mark at the top of the paper. It wasn't a class assignment- and yet he had obviously felt the need to grade it. There was a wry smile on her face too, as she traced the thoroughly crumpled pages, crossed and recrossed and with scribbled questions in the margins. He had obviously liked it enough to argue with, she thought dryly. With each draft of this story, she found her heart thumping- which would be the one she showed to Gilbert? She had talked over her notes with him, and he had read many of the other works that she had in progress, however this one was different. Remembering the bitterness she had felt regarding her hopes for Averil's Atonement, she had asked him to not read it until she had finished the final draft. Perhaps- perhaps soon.

On this day, she rose from her desk to pack her satchel and jumped when she heard herself being addressed. She turned to see Royal Gardner standing nearby, a curiously wary look on his face. She had only seen him in passing since they had returned to college that year- and in truth, he had entered her thoughts very little.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Gardner; I wasn't paying attention."

"I asked how you were finding our senior year- Mrs Blythe."

There was a pause as Anne gathered the books on her desk. "Very interesting. And yourself?"

Roy hesitated. "Interesting, as well. I found my holidays more intriguing, however."

"I see." For the life of her, Anne couldn't understand why he was making conversation, however, she had resolved to be courteous. She was an adult, for heaven's sake.

He appeared to be watching out of the windows when he spoke next, his voice low. "You might have been right about the orphanage."

Anne's chin lifted, her eyes showing hints of green in their grey depths. "Really? In what way, Mr Gardner?"

"They wouldn't let a patron visit on a non-visiting day."

Anne turned from him, her heart suddenly feeling sick. "Why should you want to visit them?"

His jaw seemed to clench, and she turned to see glittering blue eyes fixed on her own. "Perhaps you think that all benefactors have no real concern for their charges."

"They are not your charges, Mr Gardner."

"No. However, since it is my family's money supporting it, I think it prudent to know what is being done in my name."

Anne watched him, her look cool. "Mr Gardner, why talk to me about this? Furthermore, why would you think me willing to talk to you about it?"

There was another pause, this time his, and Anne watched him scowl. "I am aware that you and I have not always conversed in a— helpful manner."

"No," she stated forcefully. "You have enjoyed baiting me in the past year, Mr Gardner. I am curious as to why. Is it women in college? Married women? Or my background? Perhaps you are indignant that an orphan should be at Redmond at all."

At this Roy placed his books down on the desk, a brittle smile on his face. "And yet again, you assume that you know my motivations."

Anne closed her eyes, trying to rein in her temper. "Mr Gardner, I don't understand them at all. Moreover, I don't understand why you waste time and energy on this. What would be the point?"

"And you will not understand, until you stop casting me as the villain, Mrs Blythe," he said heatedly. "I don't believe either of our manners has been impeccable where the other is concerned. For offending you, as I have obviously done on multiple occasions, I apologise. For your offences toward me, I hold no grudge. However, I should very much like to have one conversation with you without you assuming the worst of me. Will you at least allow me to do that?"

Anne's chin lifted, and she gazed at him curiously. There was a pause as she considered the oddly defiant expression in his blue eyes, and finally, she nodded. She bent to retrieve a spare piece of paper and wrote down their address before handing it to him stiffly. "Gilbert and I are at home this evening. If you would like to join us for tea, please come to our house at seven."

Roy took the paper from her, his expression odd. "Mrs Blythe, I don't believe that your husband is particularly enamoured of me. He may not appreciate me coming to his home."

Anne smiled at him calmly. "Then your conversation has quite a lot to cover tonight, Mr Gardner."

Two hours later, Anne sat patiently on the sofa watching Gilbert pace to and fro across the worn carpet, wondering idly if his raised voice had managed to penetrate the boardinghouse yet. He had yet to change from his football Jersey, and she remained quiet as he stomped around the room, thinking it better for him to get it out of his system now. The last occasion when Gilbert had been so obviously upset couldn't help but come to mind, and Anne marvelled at the difference the revelation of their love had made. Her grey eyes were inexplicably tender as she watched him, understanding anew how safe she was with him, even in his anger. So it happened, that when he, at last, dropped down beside her on the chair breathing heavily, she smiled, and leant up to kiss his flushed face.

"That won't work, you know," he growled, pausing nevertheless to capture her chin to kiss her properly.

When she emerged from his embrace, Anne's smile was smug. "Oh, I think that it might, Gil." She turned to him now, her look placating. "Darling, do be reasonable-"

"How is it reasonable to invite that person into our house?" he said, incensed. "Anne, what makes you think that he's changed?"

Anne sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know. Gil, he wants to talk about the orphanage his family supports."

"Is this just a new strategy for him to get your attention, Anne?" His hazel eyes were fierce, however, Anne didn't flinch.

"I don't believe so, Gil. He hasn't approached me once this year- much to my relief," she added dryly.

"Hasn't he caused enough problems for us? And why would I ever let him attack you about your background again in our own home?"

Anne sighed, slumping against the back of the sofa. Of all the letters that had flown back and forth between herself and Gilbert over the summer, one of the more difficult to write had been the one that began to unwrap the horror that was the night of the ball. Gilbert had been so vulnerable in his own letter to her about it, and sitting by the picturesque swamp in Valley Road she had dropped her red head and cried at the insecurity she had so unknowingly fed. Gilbert had always been so confident in who he was- except when it came to her. In response, Anne had at last gone into detail about the things Roy had said to her that night, while Christine was unknowingly adding fuel to the fire on the other side of the ballroom.

In her letter, she had admitted a painful truth in herself- that the problem had begun with her unwillingness to talk to him about her own confused feelings- all of which were well in place by then. In the wake of her realisation of her own love, she now saw that had she been more open about the changes she was sensing between them, her own inability to accept the pull she felt toward her husband of six months, other opinions could not have hurt them so badly. She had written to him how sorry she was, pleading for him to understand that she hadn't known how to broach the subject with him.

In the present, Anne startled Gilbert by moving onto his lap calmly, rearranging her skirts on either side of his legs to be able to look him directly in the eye. Gilbert's consternation at her position was comical as she cupped his face in her hands.

"And before you say anything, no: I am not doing this to sway you, Gil, but I need you to listen to me," Anne said firmly. "You can't do that if you are still shouting."

He shifted under her, a reluctant smile on his face. "I wasn't yelling at you, I was yelling to you."

"I know that." Anne touched his cheek lightly. "Gil, if I wasn't in the picture, what would you think of Roy?"

"Well, clearly I'd go riding off into the sunset with him."

Anne gave his arm a slap, her eyes twinkling. "That isn't what I meant, and you know it, Gil. Be honest: how much of your perception of Royal Gardner is tainted by my dealings with him?"

Gilbert sighed then, his hands on her slim waist. "That's not a fair question, Anne. Of course, I'm going to be biased against him. He's upset you multiple times. You asked me to step in last year because he was making a nuisance of himself. He attacked you about us. And he fed what happened on the night of the dance," he muttered. "Even if I could forgive him the rest, I wouldn't forgive that."

Anne moved to cuddle into his chest, not arguing when he turned them both to stretch out, her loose red curls spread out beside him on the old sofa. "Gilbert, you do know that the argument would have happened at some time, don't you?" There was an answering stubborn look in his hazel eyes now, and Anne sighed. "You and I needed to have that conversation- you know that. If anything, we should be thankful that it happened all at once, as awful as it was. We could have walked with that kind of insecurity and fear for years." At his gruff assent, she smiled sadly. "Gil, he was baiting me because of the way I had been treating him. It was- in part- my fault." Gilbert opened his mouth to deny it, however, she shook her red head, her grey eyes fierce.

"He was tactless in his opinions on a book that spoke of an orphan- and I decided that I disliked him then and there. You of all people know how unreasonable I can be when I am angry."

He paused, his look cool. "Anne, ours was a very different circumstance."

"And yet I seem to have been nothing less than my eleven-year-old self whenever it came to dealing with him," she said tiredly. "I would never assume the whole blame, Gil; he is arrogant and entitled, and he provoked me just to get a reaction. He went out of his way to make me uncomfortable, and you as well. But I was wrong to hold onto the grudge as I did with you. I was wrong to assume that he always meant to cause trouble. I didn't give him the respect I would give to any other classmate; I was rude- and even more so when it came to him bringing up my background. In reality, it probably caught his attention the same way it does everyone," she mumbled, her brows lowered.

Gilbert sat back from her to watch her carefully. "So why the repentance now?"

"His? Or mine?"

"Let's start with you."

Anne chuckled wryly. "It's not repentance, exactly- just an uncomfortable feeling that he was right about one thing- that I never gave him a chance after he had offended me once. I should have learned how damaging that was from the first time, Gil. I was the one who punished people for not being what I wanted them to be. You were rude in the beginning, I wouldn't forgive. And yet how did you treat me? Fairly. You treated everyone that way- you were always fair, despite the fact that my behaviour to you was appalling for five years." Gilbert studied her in the lamplight, his look open. "You wouldn't have done that to anyone. And you know that I punished you by pulling away when you got too close to me- I never gave you the chance to talk to me about it. And if Roy hadn't made you feel insecure about our relationship, which was already under terrible strain from going through with a marriage of convenience, I think that you would have been fairer toward him too."

Gilbert started to speak, before lying back with a grimace on his face. "I hate that you're right."

Anne shrugged, settling against his shoulder. "Blythes are always fair, Gil. I need to live up to that too."

He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head hard. "You are, Anne-girl." He sighed then, reluctantly. "Alright, what about him? Why does he want to talk now? You didn't exactly end on a good note, last term."

Anne gave Gilbert a droll look. "Well, much like a boy I once knew who was terribly over-indulged by doting parents, he wanted attention. And when he couldn't get it by normal means, he resorted to childish attempts to provoke a reaction."

Gilbert scowled at her, before raising a hand to brush back unruly, brown curls from his forehead. "Anne, I was a thirteen-year-old boy!"

"And yet Royal Gardner is a grown man who should have left that sort of behaviour behind him a decade ago, as you did," Anne said with decision before she let out a disgusted sigh. "Of course I don't approve of that- however my words to him about his family's philanthropic projects were completely unwarranted. They came from my own experiences, and I accused his family of being wasteful, negligent and uncaring."

Gilbert pulled back, his look alarmed. "Anne-girl-"

"I know, I know," she said tiredly. "I don't blame Mr Gardner for being defensive about that- and that was when he asked me what you knew of my background. And at that point, all you knew was that I had lived in an orphanage. I hadn't told you anything about it. And he knew just by looking at me that I hadn't- I've never been good at lying. He was angry enough to turn around and poke at that sore spot, as well as unfairly bringing up the gaping holes in yours and my story."

Gilbert eyed her sternly. "Then why are we asking him to come to our house for tea? Are you planning to poison him?"

Anne rolled her eyes at his comment, before continuing reluctantly. "No. He seemed- uneasy, when he spoke to me today. He told me that he tried to visit the Kingsport Children's asylum that his family supports over the summer. I- had indicated in one of our arguments about charity that patrons such as himself would never know what happens beneath the stairs," Anne said softly. "They don't. However, I didn't realise that he would be bothered by that- and he obviously believed me enough to attempt to investigate it himself." Gilbert was regretful as he watched her, and Anne sighed. "Professor Winston once told me that people like him need to know the truth- and it is only someone like me who can tell them. If there is any genuine desire to understand in him- to somehow make things better- don't I owe it to children who are like me to tell him the truth? To tell him that I was fortunate- that somehow, I was the exception to the rule. How many children are adopted out and given real families? Had I been sent to the Blewitts instead of Marilla, I wouldn't have had a chance to be where I am now," she said, her voice trembling. "Gil, imagine if that was our child- imagine we had to leave a daughter, and she was to grow up as I did-"

Gilbert snatched her close to him, his voice tender as he cuddled her to himself. "Anne, stop that now- it won't ever be our children. I swear that to you." He pulled back, his eyes almost angry in their intensity. "Our children will have people everywhere who would lay down their lives to care for them properly. My parents, Marilla, Fred and Di, Phil and Jo, the girls, and even Davy and Dora, when they are old enough. They won't ever be alone, sweetheart." He saw the struggle in her grey eyes and dropped his head to her shoulder with a sigh. "Alright. You want to talk to Roy about this, fine. But if he says anything out of line-"

"Then I expect you will deliver him to our front door immediately."

"With or without his dignity?"

Anne's smile was instantly cherubic, making her husband laugh. "I suppose that depends on how he behaves."

At seven o'clock precisely a knock sounded at the door to the cottage, and Gilbert rose to open the door, grumbling as Rusty got underfoot. The relationship between the master of the house and Anne's cat was for the most part amiable now- however every now and then Gilbert could be heard muttering about having malevolent amber eyes fixed on him whenever he wanted to cuddle his wife in bed. Anne was presently at the counter preparing the tea tray, and couldn't hold back a chuckle at the way he prowled around Gilbert's feet now- nor the look of forced pleasantry on Gilbert's face as he opened the door to greet Mr Royal Gardner.

He was ushered in with all due ceremony, and Gilbert was wickedly pleased to observe that their guest looked at least as uncomfortable as he felt. Anne herself was calm as she turned from the table to greet him, and a fierce thud of pride went through Gilbert's chest at her stately manner, the queenly look on her face that he adored. Roy shook her hand courteously, as he would any classmate, and with a careful eye on Gilbert, he presented Anne with a small box of tea that his sister was said to prefer, exquisitely wrapped as a gift to the hostess.

The tension was becoming unbearable by this point, and behind Roy's back, Anne shot Gilbert a glance of desperation as she brought her lemon tarts to the table, begging him to talk. Gilbert was beginning to find some amusement in the situation, however, he turned to Roy politely and began to ask him about himself.

After some rather uphill work, the conversation gradually began to ease and Gilbert found himself studying Roy over the tea table. There were small flashes of humour in him, and an intelligent enough mind- and during a surprisingly polite difference of opinion about a text between the two English students Gilbert sat back, his arms folded. Roy looked up to meet curious hazel eyes and stiffened.

"Mr Gardner, as pleasant as this is, why did you wish to talk with us?"

Roy's look was reserved. "Mr and Mrs Blythe, I would very much appreciate it if you would drop the necessary formality away from the college."

Gilbert met Anne's startled look. "I apologise. I assumed that you would prefer it."

"Mr Gardner was my father. I would prefer to be known as myself, whilst I am still at college."

Anne gave a sigh that only Gilbert heard, and she turned to face him. "Very well then, Roy. What is it you wished to discuss with me?"

He crossed a long leg over his other, his brow lowered. "You- have a unique perspective on a conundrum I am facing." At Anne's raised eyebrow, he elaborated, trying to ignore the way that Gilbert's eyes followed his every move. "My father died three years ago, when I was in my junior year of college. I took my mother and sisters overseas for two of those, in hopes that the climate would assist my mother and elder sister in their recovery. They were particularly close to him. Needless to say, my degree had to be postponed until we returned from abroad."

Gilbert's heart clenched suddenly, not needing the reminder that he could understand Roy's plight. "Yes. You told us that on the night we met, I believe."

Roy nodded. "Yes. Naturally, I am the successor to my father's business and estates. A board was to care for things until I graduated- however it became necessary for me to step in somewhat earlier. With a mother and two sisters to care for, now, I can hardly neglect my responsibilities for another year."

Anne's face was a study as she listened. "That must be difficult around your classes."

"Yes. And— perhaps over the past year I have allowed my private life to- I may not have been in the best frame of mind to make better acquaintances with people."

Anne held Gilbert's eyes for a moment, before turning to look at Roy directly. "I do sympathise with your difficulties. However, it was not only you who had a difficult year, last year. You seem to have gone out of your way to provoke me- drawing unwanted attention to both you and to us. Frankly, that was the last thing that Gilbert and I wanted. What were you hoping to gain by it?"

Gilbert hid a small smile at the startled look on Roy's face, was obviously unused to being addressed so bluntly, and he floundered for a moment.

"I did not mean to cause you any problems, Anne."

"That doesn't mean that you didn't." She looked across at their guest, her voice quiet. "I am sorry that I behaved rudely to you in response. That was inappropriate."

Roy shifted on the seat, a slight scowl on his face. "If my attentions were unwelcome, however innocently they were meant, then it was perhaps understandable."

By this point, Anne was becoming unnerved by the direction the conversation was going, and she was aware of Gilbert's leg beginning to move beside her restlessly. "Roy, I am sure that this is not what you came here to discuss. What is your conundrum?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I- I- was getting to that. At the same time we were reading Neil Cross' controversial book last year, I was reviewing the charities of which my father sat on the board. That included the Kingsport Asylum." Gilbert's hand slipped down to Anne's surreptitiously, as he felt her body tense beside him. "Our er- discussion about the book surprised me- I had no idea that you would feel as strongly as you did, or I should have said nothing before you. Obviously, I did not understand the reason for your distress."

Anne's eyes glittered, and she kept her voice steady. "The mention of the orphanage is not what distressed me, Roy. I am quite well aware that it is a part of my story. I have never shied away from telling others that I was adopted."

There was a curious glance toward Gilbert then, and he shrugged easily. "Roy, Anne and I have known each other since we were children. Of course, I knew."

"And not only have we known each other since we were young, but we have also been close friends for the past five years. However, I do not- I have not readily talked about that time," Anne said carefully. "I was one of the fortunate ones, Roy. Many children are unwanted and taught that they are so from a young age. They have no opportunities, and many of them leave the orphanage as fourteen-year-olds, with nowhere else to go- only to find themselves in situations they are not adequately prepared for."

Roy gave her a piercing look. "That isn't what the staff have indicated. Am I to believe that this is not so?"

Anne's cheek twitched, and she endeavoured to remain calm. "I don't know. However, I would guess that a patron is only told of the success stories- those who run the centres are naturally enough trying to protect their jobs. When a young, appealing child is found a family, it would appear to be a success. However, many children will never be chosen- many more will be adopted in name, and then put to work as a servant."

Roy frowned. "Anne, I would never mean any disrespect to you, or your experiences- however being a respectable servant is nothing to be ashamed of. There are staff who have worked for my family since my sisters and I were children- I would trust them with my life."

Anne's glance at Gilbert was regretful. "Such a position would not be available to the young men and women leaving an orphanage for the first time."

Roy sat back, his demeanour obviously unsettled. "And yet the children are educated at the orphanage, are they not? Does not this allow for them to rise to higher positions, if they have the ambition? Clearly, you are a shining example of that."

Gilbert could feel Anne's hand shaking in his own, and gave it a squeeze, his tension growing just as hers did. Why he hadn't thrown the fellow out already, he didn't know- however, Anne's words rang in his mind then, reminding him that someone needed to speak up for those who had been like his darling girl. His heart squeezed as he felt her trying to remain calm.

"Roy, I was fortunate. I found myself with a family who showed me compassion and kindness. My guardians were not expecting a girl- the orphanage made a mistake- however, they were good-hearted people, who chose to not see me as a servant, but as a child who needed them. I helped out with chores, yes, however, I was sent to school as soon as the term began. I was given every opportunity to learn- I was given the tools necessary to do that. My- Marilla believed a girl should be able to make her own way in the world if necessary, and she allowed me to join a class to prepare me for the Queen's teaching academy at the same time as Gilbert. I was given every chance to succeed in that house, and the love and support necessary to do it. You mustn't assume that all children are awarded the same opportunities."

Roy was silent for some minutes after this, adjusting his long frame on the chair. "What do they need, then?"

Anne pulled away from Gilbert, her fierce eyes fixed on Roy. "They need love, first and foremost. They need to be cared for by people who tell them that they are worth something. They need education by people who will not hold their status against them. They need to be protected from those who would bully or misuse them- and adopting families need to be scrutinized more carefully, to ensure that they are not going to be worked to death, or be sent into homes where there is domestic violence. I spent ten years with families like that, Roy. And I still maintain that the orphanage was the most damaging by far."

Gilbert's warm hand was on her back as she calmed down, and eventually, she settled back in her chair with a quick glance at her husband. He gave her a slight nod. The look on Roy's face was far more stricken, and he swallowed.

"Anne that is more change than any one person can do in a lifetime. There are limits to what a board can do-"

"Change will take time, I understand that. But putting people in place whose concern is first and foremost the children is the place to start." Anne sat back on the sofa, her look stormy. "We need laws to protect children. We need orphanages to change the way they relate to their charges."

Roy was silent for some minutes, and there was a look of exhaustion on his face. "Is the whole system pointless, then?"

Gilbert cleared his throat then. "Of course not. They at least have a roof over their head, and they are fed and clothed- however inadequate it may seem compared to what a normal child might have."

Roy's startled look swung to Anne. "There isn't enough food?"

Anne's voice was neutral. "Not always, no. Resources are limited. Orphanages rely on donations, and on businesses to sell them the products that aren't wanted by the general public."

Roy was visibly affected, and he shot her a sharp look. "And you know this how?

There was a pause, and to his surprise, she smiled. "What do you think the older orphans do, Roy?"

This thought had obviously never crossed his mind before, and Anne watched him frown. "I'm- I'm sure I don't know."

"We care for the younger children, assist with the chores- and any number of errands in the cities. I was occasionally sent to the grocers over the winter."

Gilbert's jaw tensed as he glanced at her. "By yourself? You were only ten."

Momentarily forgetting Roy's presence, Anne smiled at her husband reassuringly. "And you escorted your father to Alberta alone at ten, Gilbert. I wasn't the only one forced to grow up too soon."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and when Anne turned back to Roy, she caught the hopeless look on his face. "I know that this is very overwhelming. To be fair, many men in your position would not bother to look into the workings of these places."

"Then I do not wish to be those men," he muttered, his look dark. Anne's met Gilbert's eyes in confusion when suddenly the look was masked again, and Roy folded his arms despondently. "I don't imagine there is anything much I can do until I finish college."

"What if you could help just one person, right now?" Roy turned to Gilbert, his look startled. "I tutor several students in the sciences on Wednesday nights."

"And I do not take science."

"No. You are, however, a tolerable English student."

Anne hid a smile at the look of indignation on Roy's face, and she elbowed Gilbert in the side. "Gilbert is teasing, Roy. He knows that you are one of Professor Winston's best students."

Roy glared at Gilbert, who merely grinned. "I may not be in your celebrated wife's league, Blythe, however, I believe you will find me more than capable of assisting your students."

"Excellent. I have a first-year for you: smart as a whip, however, his schooling was broken up with his mother's long illness."

Roy shot him a sharp look. "Are you trying to play to my sympathies?"

Gilbert shrugged. "He already has mine. I missed three years of school with my father's tuberculosis. I spent those years in Alberta with no schooling but what I could supply for myself. However, for the most part, I had good teachers who helped me to catch up when I got back. Jerry Rylan appears to have somewhat blundered his way through- and his essays are woeful. I don't have the time that he would need from me to help him. I was going to ask Anne if she could."

"Is this a test?"

The teasing look at once left Gilbert's face, and he met the other man's glittering eyes unflinchingly. "No. However, you said yourself that you can't help those at the orphanage yet. Help someone else until you can."

Anne held her breath, as she watched the struggle in his blue eyes. "What- time do you need me?"

There was a relieved look on Gilbert's face, then. "Seven o'clock, here. The students arrive then."

Roy sat up and looked at Anne, his look faintly horrified. "You have them all in your home?"

"Where else should I put them?" Gilbert asked mildly. "Everyone fits in quite well. Anne escapes to the big house for the evening with her own work, and the young men have been very well behaved. I shouldn't have them in our home, otherwise."

Roy frowned slightly. "I can't imagine my mother would welcome a group of students into her home."

Anne gave Gilbert an amused look. "Gilbert and I are teachers, Roy. Students are nothing new to us."

Roy nodded then, his own expression cool. "And I can assure you that tutors are nothing new to me. I will be here next week."

When the door closed behind Roy that night, Gilbert crossed back to Anne where she sat on the sofa, exhausted. He scooped her up in his arms and took her seat as she cuddled into his arms. Gone was the formidable opponent now, and he rocked her in his arms slightly, unsurprised to feel the odd tear seeping through his shirt. She was silent for some time, and he waited for her to be ready to speak.

"He said that he couldn't help them."

Gilbert brushed the hair back from her face, his look sober. "No, he said he couldn't see how to help them yet. That's a different thing, Anne-girl."

There was another silence before he lifted her head from his shoulder. "Were you really going to ask me to help Jerry?"

He grinned. "Yes. I'm almost tearing my hair out over his grammar. He can pass any mathematics exam with ease- but words are a whole other problem for him."

At this point, Rusty, who had been scowling in the darkest corner of the kitchen leapt onto the back of the sofa behind them, his tail lashing against Gilbert's cheek, who spluttered in indignation.

"Here now; what did I ever do to you?" he asked, injured.

Anne turned on his lap to rest against his broad chest, reaching a slender hand out to her cat with a smile. "You let a stranger into the house, Gil. You know how territorial he is. Perhaps he thinks that he should have been a watchdog."

Gilbert snorted, however the warmth was relaxing, and after a few minutes he spoke again. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to see what kind of tutor Mr Gardner makes. I will admit that he is not completely evil."

Anne chuckled. "That's a very fine concession, Gil."

"Well, it's the only one I'm giving him. Are you alright?"

Anne nodded, sighing tiredly. "Mmm. Are you coming to bed, now?"

"Just let me clear up here, and I'll be in soon."

He smiled as she moved toward the bedroom, and a minute later he heard a light thump and chuckled. Anne would have thrown herself onto their bed without undressing, and would most likely still be dressed by the time he made it to the bedroom. Gilbert moved around the kitchen now slowly, rinsing plates under the pump, and setting the kettle on to boil.

If he hadn't known ahead of time what the conversation might entail, he would have been surprised by Anne's lethargy- a word he rarely associated with her. The emotional toll of the evening could not be ignored though, and again he wondered uneasily if it had been wise of them to indulge Roy's desire for information. Would it make any difference?

Nevertheless, Anne had been willing to try. All he could do was to support her when she did.

Twenty minutes later he entered the bedroom to find the lamp already out, and to his surprise Anne was lying on her pillows, watching him quietly. He leant over to kiss her forehead, taking his pyjamas from the hook and heading into the annexe to change. There was a slight smile on his face now as he placed his clothing down, a sigh escaping as he undid his shirt. Undressing before each other was still something the two of them had been shy about- perhaps unconsciously it was something they were saving, he supposed. His head dropped to the door frame with a wry chuckle, then. That didn't stop all manner of wandering hands, of course. It was really just as well that they were as busy as they were- or there would be far too much time on his hands to meditate on the amount of time that had to pass before they could actually- no, better to not continue that thought at the moment.

When Gilbert climbed into bed a few minutes later, he took Anne's hand in his, bringing it up to watch the gleam of her wedding ring in the faint light from the window. He turned to look at her then, his eyes watchful.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She seemed to rouse herself then and turned to rest her red head against his shoulder. "No. I'm fine, Gil." She tipped her head up to meet his eyes then, her look clear. "I'm glad we met with him. And it may be that things will change in time for those children."

Gilbert adjusted himself so that she could curl into his side as she was accustomed to doing, her warm hand slipping through the open collar of his shirt. "Maybe they will." He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as he felt her begin to relax.

"Gilbert?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you ever think about whether our first baby will be a boy or a girl?"

He chuckled, stilling the hand that was lazily tracing the lines of his chest. "Anne, love?"

"Yes?"

"Unless you want to start making those babies right now, you really need to stop talking about them when we're lying here like this."

She smiled, yawning as her arm wrapped around his waist. "I can't wait," she whispered sleepily.

Gilbert turned to press a kiss to the top of her head, an oddly pensive look on his face as he listened to her breathing steady. When he was sure that she was asleep some minutes later, he sighed as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Neither can I, sweetheart."