In the June twilight she went over the fields to Anne 's , and appeared with ghost-like suddenness in the scented garden . `` Leslie ! '' cried Anne in amazement . `` Where have you sprung from ? We never knew you were coming . Why did n't you write ? We would have met you . '' `` I could n't write somehow , Anne . It seemed so futile to try to say anything with pen and ink . And I wanted to get back quietly and unobserved . '' Anne put her arms about Leslie and kissed her . Leslie returned the kiss warmly . She looked pale and tired , and she gave a little sigh as she dropped down on the grasses beside a great bed of daffodils that were gleaming through the pale , silvery twilight like golden stars . `` And you have come home alone , Leslie ? '' `` Yes . George Moore 's sister came to Montreal and took him home with her . Poor fellow , he was sorry to part with me -- though I was a stranger to him when his memory first came back . He clung to me in those first hard days when he was trying to realise that Dick 's death was not the thing of yesterday that it seemed to him . It was all very hard for him . I helped him all I could .
When his sister came it was easier for him , because it seemed XXXXX him only the other day that he had seen her last .
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