He slapped her in the mouth every time she hollered.

She don't make no furss now, but jist sets down that way all day, and keeps a-whisperin'." Ralph understood it.

When she came in she was the victim of mania; but she had been beaten into hopeless idiocy.

Indeed this state of incurable imbecility seemed the end toward which all traveled.

Shut in these bare rooms, with no treatment, no exercise, no variety, and meager food, cases of slight derangement soon grew into chronic lunacy.
One young woman, called Phil, a sweet-faced person, apparently a farmer's wife, came up to Ralph and looked at him kindly, playing with the buttons on his coat in a childlike simplicity.