Perhaps amid this peace and loveliness , I shall be able to capture it . Miss Bryant tells me that you write . '' `` Oh , I do little things for children . I have n't done much since I was married . And -- I have no designs on a great Canadian novel , '' laughed Anne . `` That is quite beyond me . '' Owen Ford laughed too . `` I dare say it is beyond me as well . All the same I mean to have a try at it some day , if I can ever get time . A newspaper man does n't have much chance for that sort of thing . I 've done a good deal of short story writing for the magazines , but I 've never had the leisure that seems to be necessary for the writing of a book . With three months of liberty I ought to make a start , though -- if I could only get the necessary motif for it -- the SOUL of the book . '' An idea whisked through Anne 's brain with a suddenness that made her jump . But she did not utter it , for they had reached the Moore house . As they entered the yard Leslie came out on the veranda from the side door , peering through the gloom for some sign of her expected guest . She stood just where the warm yellow light flooded her from the open door . She wore a plain dress of cheap , cream-tinted cotton voile , with the usual girdle of crimson . Leslie was never without her touch of crimson . She had told Anne that she never felt satisfied without a gleam of red somewhere about her , if it were only a flower . To Anne , it always seemed to symbolise Leslie 's glowing , pent-up personality , denied all expression save in that flaming glint .
Leslie 's XXXXX was cut a little away at the neck and had short sleeves .
brain door dress expression flower gleam leisure light personality writing