Rilla did not waste time or breath defending Miss Oliver . She coolly thanked Irene , who had suddenly become very amiable and gushing , and got away . She was very thankful the interview was over . But she knew now that she and Irene could never be the friends they had been . Friendly , yes -- but friends , no . Nor did she wish it . All winter she had felt under her other and more serious worries , a little feeling of regret for her lost chum . Now it was suddenly gone . Irene was not as Mrs. Elliott would say , of the race that knew Joseph . Rilla did not say or think that she had outgrown Irene . Had the thought occurred to her she would have considered it absurd when she was not yet seventeen and Irene was twenty . But it was the truth . Irene was just what she had been a year ago -- just what she would always be . Rilla Blythe 's nature in that year had changed and matured and deepened . She found herself seeing through Irene with a disconcerting clearness -- discerning under all her superficial sweetness , her pettiness , her vindictiveness , her insincerity , her essential cheapness . Irene had lost for ever her faithful worshipper . But not until Rilla had traversed the Upper Glen Road and found herself in the moon-dappled solitude of Rainbow Valley did she fully recover her composure of spirit . Then she stopped under a tall wild plum that was ghostly white and fair in its misty spring bloom and laughed . `` There is only one thing of importance just now -- and that is that the Allies win the war , '' she said aloud . `` Therefore , it follows without dispute that the fact that I went to see Irene Howard with odd shoes and stockings on is of no importance whatever .
Nevertheless , I , Bertha Marilla Blythe , swear solemnly with the moon as witness '' -- Rilla lifted her hand dramatically to the said moon -- `` XXXXX I will never leave my room again without looking carefully at both my feet . ''
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