Clara was to go there on a separate ship, giving me the choice of oceans.
Had I met Edith Croyden three months later I should have been a man free to woo and win her.

As it was I was bound.

I must put a clasp of iron on my feelings.

I must wear a mask.

Cheerful, helpful, and full of narrative, I must yet let fall no word of love to this defenceless girl.
After a great struggle I rose at last from the tar-bucket, feeling, if not a brighter, at least a cleaner man.
Dawn was already breaking.