Now, I done had fo' husban's, me.

Two o' them done died, an' one distapeart in the wah, an' one he turn out no 'count.

Now, you s'pose I kain't love no otheh man ?" Mary Ellen could not restrain a smile, but it did not impinge upon the earnestness of the other.
"Yas'm, Miss Ma'y Ellen," she continued, again taking the girl's face between her hands.

"Gord, he say, it hain't good fer man toe be erlone.
An' Gord knows, speshul in er lan' like this yer, hit's a heap mo' fitten fer a man toe be erlone then fer a 'ooman.

Some wimmen-folks, they's made fer grievin', all ther time, fer frettin', an' worr'in', an' er-mopin' 'roun'.