Aunt Philippa sometimes peered at me sharply , but she held her peace . I was grateful for this . * * * * * But one day a letter did come from Mark . I dared not read it until I was safely in my own room . Then I opened it with trembling fingers . The letter was a little stiff . Evidently Mark was feeling sore enough over things . He made no reference to our quarrel or to my sojourn in Prince Edward Island . He wrote that his firm was sending him to South Africa to take charge of their interests there . He would leave in three weeks ' time and could not return for five years . If I still cared anything for him , would I meet him in Halifax , marry him , and go to South Africa with him ? If I would not , he would understand that I had ceased to love him and that all was over between us . That , boiled down , was the gist of Mark 's letter . 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 XXXXX him to go to South Africa ?
If about at during for of on over that until