The thought came to Jed with a meaning and emphasis which it had not brought before.

A stronger gust than usual howled around the eaves of the shop, the sashes rattled, the panes were beaten by the flung raindrops which pounded down in watery sheets to the sills, and Jed suddenly diagnosed his own case, he knew what was the matter with him--he was lonesome; he, who had lived alone for five years and had hoped to live alone for the rest of his life, was lonesome.
He would not admit it, even to himself; it was ridiculous.

He was not lonesome, he was just a little "blue," that was all.

It was the weather; he might have caught a slight cold, perhaps his breakfast had not agreed with him.

He tried to remember what that breakfast had been.