`` You do say such queer things , '' protested Louisa , `` and half the time I do n't know what you mean . '' `` Bless you , dear coz , half the time I do n't myself . Perhaps the joy of coming back to the old spot has slightly turned my brain , I 've found my lost girlhood here . I 'm NOT thirty-eight in this garden -- it is a flat impossibility . I 'm sweet eighteen , with a waist line two inches smaller . Look , the sun is just setting . I see he has still his old trick of throwing his last beams over the Wright farmhouse . By the way , Louisa , is Peter Wright still living there ? '' `` Yes . '' Louisa threw a sudden interested glance at the apparently placid Nancy . `` Married , I suppose , with half a dozen children ? '' said Nancy indifferently , pulling up some more sprigs of mint and pinning them on her breast . Perhaps the exertion of leaning over to do it flushed her face . There was more than the Rogerson colour in it , anyhow , and Louisa , slow though her mental processes might be in some respects , thought she understood the meaning of a blush as well as the next one . All the instinct of the matchmaker flamed up in her . `` Indeed he is n't , '' she said promptly . `` Peter Wright has never married . He has been faithful to your memory , Nancy . '' `` Ugh ! You make me feel as if I were buried up there in the Avonlea cemetery and had a monument over me with a weeping willow carved on it , '' shivered Nancy .
`` When it is said that a man has been faithful to a woman 's memory it generally means that he could n't get anyone else XXXXX take him . ''
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