It would have been as easy as talking for him to have got a divorce.

Time and again Mr.McGoldrick used to go after him about it, and talk himself hoarse; but it didn't do any good, not a particle.
Instead of getting free out there in the West where it was easy, he kept on lugging that crazy woman back and forth, trying to cure her long after everybody else had given up hope and was wishing that she was dead." "Well, I suppose he loved her." "No, ma'am, that's the funny part, but it didn't look like love to me--not like what men call love, anyway.

If it had been love, it would have worn itself out long ago.

Who on earth could love a crazy, yellow, shrieking, cursing creature like that?
I saw her sometimes when he'd send me to take things down to her, and I tell you it wasn't love--not man's love, anyhow--that made him do what he did." "Then it must have been something finer even than love," Gabriella acquiesced after a moment.

"It's strange, when we come to think of it, how often we find spirituality in places where we'd never expect it to be." "I don't know that I'd call Mr.O'Hara spiritual exactly," replied Mrs.
Squires thoughtfully.