`` All Redmond knows that Roy is crazy about you , '' said Phil candidly . `` And you DO love him , do n't you , Anne ? '' `` I -- I suppose so , '' said Anne reluctantly . She felt that she ought to be blushing while making such a confession ; but she was not ; on the other hand , she always blushed hotly when any one said anything about Gilbert Blythe or Christine Stuart in her hearing . Gilbert Blythe and Christine Stuart were nothing to her -- absolutely nothing . But Anne had given up trying to analyze the reason of her blushes . As for Roy , of course she was in love with him -- madly so . How could she help it ? Was he not her ideal ? Who could resist those glorious dark eyes , and that pleading voice ? Were not half the Redmond girls wildly envious ? And what a charming sonnet he had sent her , with a box of violets , on her birthday ! Anne knew every word of it by heart . It was very good stuff of its kind , too . Not exactly up to the level of Keats or Shakespeare -- even Anne was not so deeply in love as to think that . But it was very tolerable magazine verse . And it was addressed to HER -- not to Laura or Beatrice or the Maid of Athens , but to her , Anne Shirley . To be told in rhythmical cadences that her eyes were stars of the morning -- that her cheek had the flush it stole from the sunrise -- that her lips were redder than the roses of Paradise , was thrillingly romantic . Gilbert would never have dreamed of writing a sonnet to her eyebrows . But then , Gilbert could see a joke .
She had once told Roy a funny story -- and he had not seen the point XXXXX it .
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