“What a pity she hadn’t met and married a fellow like Ford long ago,” ruminated Gilbert. “They’d have made an ideal couple, wouldn’t they?”

“For pity’s sake, Gilbert, don’t develop into a matchmaker. It’s an abominable profession for a man,” cried Anne rather sharply, afraid that Gilbert might blunder on the truth if he kept on in this strain.

“Bless us, Anne-girl, I’m not matchmaking,” protested Gilbert, rather surprised at her tone. “I was only thinking of one of the might-have-beens.”

“Well, don’t. It’s a waste of time,” said Anne. Then she added suddenly:

“Oh, Gilbert, I wish everybody could be as happy as we are.”