He felt particularly unfitted for writing at that moment. The morning
is not the time for inventive work. An article may be polished then,
or a half-finished story completed, but 11 A.M. is not the hour at
which to invent.
Jerry Garnet wandered restlessly about his sitting room. Rarely had it
seemed so dull and depressing to him as it did then. The photographs
on the mantelpiece irritated him. There was no change in them. They
struck him as the concrete expression of monotony. His eye was caught
by a picture hanging out of the straight. He jerked it to one side,
and the effect became worse. He jerked it back again, and the thing
looked as if it had been hung in a dim light by an astigmatic
drunkard. Five minutes' pulling and hauling brought it back to a
position only a shade less crooked than that in which he had found it,
and by that time his restlessness had grown like a mushroom.
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