You'll go with nervous
prostration, and it'll wipe you out like a fly. Why, Doc," said Klinker,
impressively, "you don't realize the kind of life you're leading--all
indoors and sedentary and working twenty hours a day. I come in pretty
late some nights, but I never come so late that there ain't a light
under your door. A man can't stand it, I tell you, playing both ends
against the middle that away. You got to pull up, or it's out the door
feet first for you."
Queed said uneasily: "One important fact escapes you, Mr. Klinker. I
shall never let matters progress so far. When I feel my health giving
way--"
"Needn't finish--heard it all before. They think they're going to stop
in time, but they never do. Old prostration catches 'em first every
crack. You think an hour a day exercise would be kind of a waste, ain't
that right? Kind of a dead loss off'n your book and studies?"
"I certainly do feel--"
"Well, you're wrong. Listen here. Don't you feel some days as if mebbe
you could do better writing and harder writing if only you didn't feel
so mean?"
"Well ... I will frankly confess that sometimes--"
"Didn't I know it! Do you know what, Doc? If you knocked out a little
time for reg'lar exercise, you'd find when bedtime came, that you'd done
better work than you ever did before.
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