When I had read it I cast myself on the bed and wept out all the tears I had refused to let myself shed during my weeks of exile . For I could not do what Mark asked -- I could not . I could n't run away to be married in that desolate , unbefriended fashion . It would be a disgrace . I would feel ashamed of it all my life and be unhappy over it . I thought that Mark was rather unreasonable . He knew what my feelings about run-away marriages were . And was it absolutely necessary for him to go to South Africa ? Of course his father was behind it somewhere , but surely he could have got out of it if he had really tried . Well , if he went to South Africa he must go alone . But my heart would break . I cried the whole afternoon , cowering among my pillows . I never wanted to go out of that room again . I never wanted to see anybody again . I hated the thought of facing Aunt Philippa with her cold eyes and her miserable stories that seemed to strip life of all beauty and love of all reality . I could hear her scornful , `` That 's the men for you , '' if she heard what was in Mark 's letter . `` What is the matter , Ursula ? '' Aunt Philippa was standing by my bed . I was too abject to resent her coming in without knocking . `` Nothing , '' I said spiritlessly .
`` If you 've been crying XXXXX three mortal hours over nothing you want a good spanking and you 'll get it , '' observed Aunt Philippa placidly , sitting down on my trunk .
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