I never could hide the thought of that marriage , and I could n't pretend to . It was all her stepmother 's doings -- right well I knew that . My dearie would never have taken Mark Foster else . `` Do n't let us talk of that , '' she said , soft and beseeching , just the same way she used to speak when she was a baby-child and wanted to coax me into something . `` Let us talk about the old days -- and HIM . '' `` I do n't see much use in talking of HIM , when you 're going to marry Mark Foster to-day , '' I said . But she put her hand on my mouth . `` It 's for the last time , Aunt Rachel . After to-day I can never talk of him , or even think of him . It 's four years since he went away . Do you remember how he looked , Aunt Rachel ? '' `` I mind well enough , I reckon , '' I said , kind of curt-like . And I did . Owen Blair had n't a face a body could forget -- that long face of his with its clean color and its eyes made to look love into a woman 's . When I thought of Mark Foster 's sallow skin and lank jaws I felt sick-like . Not that Mark was ugly -- he was just a common-looking fellow . `` He was so handsome , was n't he , Aunt Rachel ? '' my dearie went on , in that patient voice of hers . `` So tall and strong and handsome . I wish we had n't parted in anger .
It was so foolish of us XXXXX quarrel .
After for in into of on since that to with