Anne with an e

When Anne got home that night she stacked all her textbooks away in an old trunk in the attic, locked it, and threw the key in the blanket box.

“I’m not even going to look at a school book in vacation,” she told Marilla. “I’ve studied as hard all the term as I possibly could and I’ve pored over that geometry until I know every proposition in the first book off by heart, even when the letters are changed.  I just feel tired of everything sensible and I’m going to let my imagination run riot for the summer.”

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