and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain
there that he had never felt before.
"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is
that I've chosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing
business like this takes much more effort than doing your
own business at home, and on top of that there's the
curse of travelling, worries about making train
connections, bad and irregular food, contact with
different people all the time so that you can never get to
know anyone or become friendly with them. It can all go
to Hell!" He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed
himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard so
that he could lift his head better; found where the itch
was, and saw that it was covered with lots of little white
spots which he didn't know what to make of; and when
he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it
quickly back because as soon as he touched it he was
overcome by a cold shudder.
He slid back into his former position. "Getting up early
all the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got
to get enough sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life
of luxury. For instance, whenever I go back to the guest
house during the morning to copy out the contract, these
gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their
breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get
kicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe that
would be the best thing for me. If I didn't have my
parents to think about I'd have given in my notice a long
time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss and told him just
what I think, tell him everything I would, let him know
just what I feel. He'd fall right off his desk! And it's a
funny sort of business to be sitting up there at your desk,