My hair is red and I'm freckled and skinny and ugly.
What I said to you was true, too, but I shouldn't have said it.

Oh, Mrs.
Lynde, please, please, forgive me.

If you refuse it will be a lifelong sorrow on a poor little orphan girl, would you, even if she had a dreadful temper?
Oh, I am sure you wouldn't.

Please say you forgive me, Mrs.Lynde." Anne clasped her hands together, bowed her head, and waited for the word of judgment.
There was no mistaking her sincerity--it breathed in every tone of her voice.

Both Marilla and Mrs.Lynde recognized its unmistakable ring.
But the former under-stood in dismay that Anne was actually enjoying her valley of humiliation--was reveling in the thoroughness of her abasement.