I assure you I felt proud of him , Rilla , when he told me what he 'd done . Oh , there 's an end of Rick MacAllister 's reading . I must fly . I promised I 'd play for the next chorus -- Alice Clow has such a headache . '' She was gone -- oh , thank God , she was gone ! Rilla was alone again , staring out at the unchanged , dream-like beauty of moonlit Four Winds . Feeling was coming back to her -- a pang of agony so acute as to be almost physical seemed to rend her apart . `` I can not bear it , '' she said . And then came the awful thought that perhaps she could bear it and that there might be years of this hideous suffering before her . She must get away -- she must rush home -- she must be alone . She could not go out there and play for drills and give readings and take part in dialogues now . It would spoil half the concert ; but that did not matter -- nothing mattered . Was this she , Rilla Blythe -- this tortured thing , who had been quite happy a few minutes ago ? Outside , a quartette was singing `` We 'll never let the old flag fall '' -- the music seemed to be coming from some remote distance . Why could n't she cry , as she had cried when Jem told them he must go ? If she could cry perhaps this horrible something that seemed to have seized on her very life might let go . But no tears came ! Where were her scarf and coat ? She must get away and hide herself like an animal hurt to the death . Was it a coward 's part to run away like this ?
The question came XXXXX her suddenly as if someone else had asked it .
If ago as in like of on out that to