For better, or for worse

'I'll get rid of 'er yet,' Henry sneered boastfully. 'Mark my words! She will leave the house of 'er own accord.' Streaky stood beside him not knowing how to react to Henry's vengeful mood, and finally nodded his head, musing over his glass on the counter. 'Yes,' he murmured blearily, 'these women'll send us to our grave,' guessing that such a philosophy would please Henry's ear. And it did; his face became quite red with the excited recollection of his last dreadful encounter with Eva.