He kept
the most careful sort of tabs upon himself, and his records seemed to
show, at least for the past week or two, that his net volume of work had
not been seriously lowered by the hour per day wrung from the Schedule.
The exercises, then, seemed to be paying their own freight. And besides
all this, they were clearly little mile-stones on the path which led men
to physical competency and the ability to protect their articles from
public affront.
Still, an hour out was an hour out--three hundred and sixty-five hours a
year--three months' delay in finishing his book. Making allowance for
increased productivity, a month and a half's delay. And that was only a
beginning. The _Post_--Klinker's Exercises for All Parts of the
Body--Klinker himself, who called frequently--now Fifi (eighteen minutes
this very evening)--who could say where the mad dissipation would end?
On some uncharted isle in the far South Seas, perchance, a man might be
let alone to do his work. But in this boarding-house, it was clear now,
the effort was foredoomed and hopeless. Once make the smallest
concession to the infernal ubiquity of the race, once let the topmost
bar of your gate down never so little, and the whole accursed public
descended with a whoop to romp all over the premises.
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