The master was a coarse drunken brute, and he and his wife used to quarrel fearfully.

I have seen them throw knives at each other, and do worse things than that, too.

The woman seemed somehow to have a spite against me from the first, and the way her husband behaved to me made her hate me still more.

Child as I was, he did and said things which made her jealous.

Often when she had gone out of an evening, I had to defend myself against him, and call the daughter to protect me.
And so it went on, till, what with fear of him, and fear of her, and misery and weariness, I resolved to go away, become of me what might.
One night, instead of undressing for bed as usual, I told Jane--that was the daughter--that I couldn't bear it any longer, and was going away, as soon as I thought the house was quiet.