Pablo Picasso Girl with Mandolin Fanny Tellie painting

Pablo Picasso Girl with Mandolin Fanny Tellie painting
Claude Monet Winter At Giverny painting
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