For Anne was again a dreamer of dreams, albeit a grim shape of fear went with her night and day to shadow and darken her visions.
Gilbert was accustomed to refer to himself as "an old married man." But he still looked upon Anne with the incredulous eyes of a lover.

He couldn't wholly believe yet that she was really his.

It MIGHT be only a dream after all, part and parcel of this magic house of dreams.

His soul still went on tip-toe before her, lest the charm be shattered and the dream dispelled.
"Anne," he said slowly, "lend me your ears.

I want to talk with you about something." Anne looked across at him through the fire-lit gloom.
"What is it ?" she asked gaily.