"Deevorced, hell! No, I tole you, I up an' left him."
"Didn't God join you in holy wedlock, Mandy?"
"No, it was the Jestice of the Peace."
"Ah?"
"Yep. And them ain't holy none—leastways in Missouri. But say, man, look yere, it ain't God that marries folks, and it ain't Jestices of the Peace—it's theirselves."
I pondered for a moment. "But your vow—your promise?"
"My promise? Whut's the word of a woman to a man? Whut's the word of a man to a woman? It ain't words, man, it's feelin's."
"In sickness or in health?" I quoted.
"That's all right, if your feelin's is all right. The Church is all right, too. I ain't got no kick. All I'm sayin' to you is, folks marries theirselves."
I pondered yet further. "Mandy," said I, "suppose you were a man, and your word was given to a girl, and you met another girl and couldn't get her out of your head, or out of your heart—you loved the new one most and knew you always would—what would you do?"