As a general thing Matthew gravitated between the kitchen and the little bedroom off the hall where he slept; once in a while he ventured uncomfortably into the parlor or sitting room when the minister came to tea.

But he had never been upstairs in his own house since the spring he helped Marilla paper the spare bedroom, and that was four years ago.
He tiptoed along the hall and stood for several minutes outside the door of the east gable before he summoned courage to tap on it with his fingers and then open the door to peep in.
Anne was sitting on the yellow chair by the window gazing mournfully out into the garden.

Very small and unhappy she looked, and Matthew's heart smote him.

He softly closed the door and tiptoed over to her.
"Anne," he whispered, as if afraid of being overheard, "how are you making it, Anne ?" Anne smiled wanly.
"Pretty well.

I imagine a good deal, and that helps to pass the time.