Leslie never attempted to discuss it.

She was very cold and quiet during these beautiful spring days.

She seldom visited Anne, and though she was invariably courteous and friendly, that very courtesy was as an icy barrier between her and the people of the little house.
The old jokes and laughter and chumminess of common things could not reach her over it.

Anne refused to feel hurt.

She knew that Leslie was in the grip of a hideous dread--a dread that wrapped her away from all little glimpses of happiness and hours of pleasure.