The thought in his mind was that he did not want any woman running him.

Himself a favorite with women, nevertheless they did not bulk big with him.

They were toys, playthings, part of the relaxation from the bigger game of life.
He met women along with the whiskey and gambling, and from observation he had found that it was far easier to break away from the drink and the cards than from a woman once the man was properly entangled.
He was a slave to himself, which was natural in one with a healthy ego, but he rebelled in ways either murderous or panicky at being a slave to anybody else.

Love's sweet servitude was a thing of which he had no comprehension.

Men he had seen in love impressed him as lunatics, and lunacy was a thing he had never considered worth analyzing.