.

After having been to business and breakfasted as usual, Edwin returned
to the shop at ten o'clock. He did not feel tired, but his manner was
very curt, even with Stifford, and melancholy had taken the place of his
joy. The whole town was gloomy, and seemed to savour its gloom
luxuriously. But Edwin wondered why he should be melancholy. There was
no reason for it. There was less reason for it than there had been for
ten years. Yet he was; and, like the town, he found pleasure in his
state. He had no real desire to change it. At noon he suddenly went
off home, thus upsetting Stifford's arrangements for the dinner-hour.
"I shall lie down for a bit," he said to Maggie. He slept till a little
after one o'clock, and he could have slept longer, but dinner was ready.
He said to himself, with an extraordinary sense of satisfaction, "I
have had a sleep." After dinner he lay down again, and slept till
nearly three o'clock. It was with the most agreeable sensations that he
awakened. His melancholy was passing; it had not entirely gone, but he
could foresee the end of it as of an eclipse. He made the discovery
that he had only been tired. Now he was somewhat reposed. And as he
lay in repose he was aware of an intensified perception of himself as a
physical organism. He thought calmly, "What a fine thing life is!"

"I was just going to bring you some tea up," said Maggie, who met him on
the stairs as he came down. "I heard you moving. Will you have some?"

He rubbed his eyes. His head seemed still to be distended with sleep,
and this was a part of his well-being. "Aye!" he replied, with lazy
satisfaction. "That'll just put me right."

"George is much better," said Maggie.

"Good!" he said heartily.

Joy, wild and exulting, surged through him once more; and it was of such
a turbulent nature that it would not suffer any examination of its
origin. It possessed him by its might. As he drank the admirable tea
he felt that he still needed a lot more sleep. There were two points of
pressure at the top of his head. But he knew that he could sleep, and
sleep well, whenever he chose; and that on the morrow his body would be
perfectly restored.

He walked briskly back to the shop, intending to work, and he was a
little perturbed to find that he could not work. His head refused. He
sat in the cubicle vaguely staring. Then he was startled by a
tremendous yawn, which seemed to have its inception in the very ce