But there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, and the laundry up there is one of them.

And that's why I'm going to sea one more voyage.
It will be my last, I think, for when I come back, I shall break into the magazines.

I am certain of it." She was silent, unsympathetic, and he watched her moodily, realizing how impossible it was for her to understand what he had been through.
"Some day I shall write it up--'The Degradation of Toil' or the 'Psychology of Drink in the Working-class,' or something like that for a title." Never, since the first meeting, had they seemed so far apart as that day.
His confession, told in frankness, with the spirit of revolt behind, had repelled her.

But she was more shocked by the repulsion itself than by the cause of it.

It pointed out to her how near she had drawn to him, and once accepted, it paved the way for greater intimacy.