"
Queed was silent. He had the most logical mind in the world, and now at
last Klinker had produced an argument that appealed to his reason.
"I'll put it to you as a promise," said Klinker, eyeing him earnestly.
"One hour a day exercise, and you do more work in twenty-four hours than
you're doing now, besides feelin' one hundred per cent better all the
time."
Still Queed was silent. _One hour a day!_
"Try it for only a month," said Klinker the Tempter.
"I'll help you--glad to do it--I need the drill myself. Gimme an hour a
day for just a month, and I'll bet you the drinks you wouldn't quit
after that for a hundred dollars."
Queed turned away from Klinker's honest eyes, and wrestled the bitter
thing out. _Thirty Hours stolen from His Book!..._ Yesterday, even an
hour ago, he would not have considered such an outrage for a moment. But
now, driving him irresistibly toward the terrible idea, working upon him
far more powerfully than his knowledge of headache, even than Klinker's
promise of a net gain in his working ability, was this new irrationally
disturbing knowledge that he was a physical incompetent.
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