It was his god, not to hoard up, but to spend upon himself.

My steady refusal to permit his bleeding my father enraged him; it was at such times he lost all control, and--and struck me.

God! I could have killed him! There were times when I could, when I wonder I did not.

Yet in calm deliberation I durst not break my vows.

Three years ago he left me in Denver without a word, without a suggestion that the desertion was final.