He tried to break her spirit in a thousand ways, tried to make her the same as he was, tried to make her a bad woman, like the others he had known.

It appeared like the one pleasure he got was to torture her." "W'y don' she quit 'im ?" said Doret.

"Dat ain' wrong for quit a man lak' him." "She couldn't quit on account of the kid.

They had a youngster.

Then, too, she had ideas of her own; so she stood it for three years, living worse than a dog, till she saw it wasn't any use--till she saw that he would make a bad woman of her as sure as he would make one of the kid--till he got rough--" "No! No! You don' mean dat?
No man don' hurt no woman," interjected Doret.
"By God! That's just what I mean," the trader answered, while his face had grown so gray as to match his brows.