Well, he had failed, was his secret decision.
Perhaps the editors were right.

He had felt the big thing, but he had failed to transmute it.

He concealed his disappointment, and joined so easily with her in her criticism that she did not realize that deep down in him was running a strong undercurrent of disagreement.
"This next thing I've called 'The Pot'," he said, unfolding the manuscript.

"It has been refused by four or five magazines now, but still I think it is good.

In fact, I don't know what to think of it, except that I've caught something there.