But there is nothing comforting in having your hair cut off because you've dyed it a dreadful color, is there?
I'm going to weep all the time you're cutting it off, if it won't interfere.

It seems such a tragic thing." Anne wept then, but later on, when she went upstairs and looked in the glass, she was calm with despair.

Marilla had done her work thoroughly and it had been necessary to shingle the hair as closely as possible.
The result was not becoming, to state the case as mildly as may be.

Anne promptly turned her glass to the wall.
"I'll never, never look at myself again until my hair grows," she exclaimed passionately.
Then she suddenly righted the glass.
"Yes, I will, too.

I'd do penance for being wicked that way.