They were sitting among the blue-eyed grasses on the bank of the brook in Anne 's garden . The water sparkled and crooned past them ; the birches threw dappled shadows over them ; roses bloomed along the walks . The sun was beginning to be low , and the air was full of woven music . There was one music of the wind in the firs behind the house , and another of the waves on the bar , and still another from the distant bell of the church near which the wee , white lady slept . Anne loved that bell , though it brought sorrowful thoughts now . She looked curiously at Leslie , who had thrown down her sewing and spoken with a lack of restraint that was very unusual with her . `` On that horrible night when you were so ill , '' Leslie went on , `` I kept thinking that perhaps we 'd have no more talks and walks and WORKS together . And I realised just what your friendship had come to mean to me -- just what YOU meant -- and just what a hateful little beast I had been . '' `` Leslie ! Leslie ! I never allow anyone to call my friends names . '' `` It 's true . That 's exactly what I am -- a hateful little beast . There 's something I 've GOT to tell you , Anne . I suppose it will make you despise me , but I MUST confess it . Anne , there have been times this past winter and spring when I have HATED you . '' `` I KNEW it , '' said Anne calmly . `` You KNEW it ? '' `` Yes , I saw it in your eyes . '' `` And yet you went on liking me and being my friend . ''
`` Well , it was only now and then you hated me , XXXXX .
Anne Leslie birches church firs house night something talks times