`` He 's as stupid as an owlet and as stubborn as Solomon 's mule , '' I said , for I WOULD say it . `` He 's just a common fellow , and yet he thinks he 's good enough for my beauty . '' `` Do n't talk about Mark , '' she pleaded again . `` I mean to be a good , faithful wife to him . But I 'm my own woman yet -- YET -- for just a few more sweet hours , and I want to give them to HIM . The last hours of my maidenhood -- they must belong to HIM . '' So she talked of him , me sitting there and holding her , with her lovely hair hanging down over my arm , and my heart aching so for her that it hurt bitter . She did n't feel as bad as I did , because she 'd made up her mind what to do and was resigned . She was going to marry Mark Foster , but her heart was in France , in that grave nobody knew of , where the Huns had buried Owen Blair -- if they had buried him at all . And she went over all they had been to each other , since they were mites of babies , going to school together and meaning , even then , to be married when they grew up ; and the first words of love he 'd said to her , and what she 'd dreamed and hoped for . The only thing she did n't bring up was the time he thrashed Mark Foster for bringing her apples . She never mentioned Mark 's name ; it was all Owen -- Owen -- and how he looked , and what might have been , if he had n't gone off to the awful war and got shot . And there was me , holding her and listening to it all , and her stepma sleeping sound and triumphant in the next room . When she had talked it all out she lay down on her pillow again . I got up and went downstairs to light the fire . I felt terrible old and tired . My feet seemed to drag , and the tears kept coming to my eyes , though I tried to keep them away , for well I knew it was a bad omen to be weeping on a wedding day . Before long Isabella Clark came down ; bright and pleased-looking enough , SHE was . I 'd never liked Isabella , from the day Phillippa 's father brought her here ; and I liked her less than ever this morning . She was one of your sly , deep women , always smiling smooth , and scheming underneath it .
I 'll say it for her , though , she had been good to XXXXX ; but it was her doings that my dearie was to marry Mark Foster that day .
Clark Foster Phillippa Solomon day hours maidenhood mites morning war