Phillippa , I thought Owen Blair was dead , and I believed that , when you were my wife , I could win your love . But I love you too well to make you miserable . Go to the man you love -- you are free ! '' `` And what is to become of me ? '' wailed Isabella . `` Oh , you ! -- I had forgotten about you , '' said Mark , kind of weary-like . He took a paper from his pocket , and dropped it in the grate . `` There is the mortgage . That is all you care about , I think . Good-morning . '' He went out . He was only a common fellow , but , somehow , just then he looked every inch the gentleman . I would have gone after him and said something but -- the look on his face -- no , it was no time for my foolish old words ! Phillippa was crying , with her head on Owen 's shoulder . Isabella Clark waited to see the mortgage burned up , and then she came to me in the hall , all smooth and smiling again . `` Really , it 's all very romantic , is n't it ? I suppose it 's better as it is , all things considered . Mark behaved splendidly , did n't he ? Not many men would have done as he did . ''
For once in my life I agreed XXXXX Isabella .
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