The quarrel was the culmination, on Ezra's part, of a gradually developing "grouch" brought on by the loneliness of his surroundings.

After a night of duty he had marched into the house, packed his belongings in a battered canvas extension case, and announced his intention of resigning from the service.
"To the everlastin' brimstone with the job!" he snarled, addressing Mr.
Atkins, who, partially dressed, emerged from the bedroom in bewilderment and sleepy astonishment.

"To thunder with it, I say! I've had all the gov'ment jobs I want.

Life-savin' service was bad enough, trampin' the condemned beach in a howlin' no'theaster, with the sand cuttin' furrers in your face, and the icicles on your mustache so heavy you got round-shouldered luggin' 'em.

But when your tramp was over, you had somebody to talk to.