There are two books for you, and a thingummy-jig, and a handkerchief to blow your dear nose with." "Edie--" "Do you like them ?" "Like them?
Oh, you dear--" "Why don't you have a birthday oftener?
It makes you look so pretty, dear." Anne's heart leaped.

Edie's ways, her very words sometimes were like Walter's.
"Has Walter seen you ?" Anne's face became instantly solemn, but it was not sad.
"Edie," she said, "do you know what he has given me!" "Yes," said Edith.

Her eyes searched Anne's eyes with pain in them that was somehow akin to Walter's pain.
"She knows everything," thought Anne, "and it was her idea, then, not his." "Edith," said she, "was it you who thought of it, or he ?" "I?
Never.

He didn't say a word about it.

He just went and got it.