7.15. Arrive home wet and exhausted. Have an argument, conducted affably on
my side, with Henry, who flatly refuses to wear the half-price striped
shirts or pay for the only-slightly-soiled waistcoat. He makes pointed
remarks about the bad weather, with cynical reference to mackintoshes. Am
struck afresh by the selfishness of men.

7.45. Remember that I have forgotten household linen and Kid's boots, but
determine not to let this spoil my good temper.

8.0. Dine alone with Henry. Do my best to show a forgiving spirit in face
of his egoism. So to bed, conscious of a day well spent.

* * * * *

OUR DAY OF UNREST.

["The great demand of the moment is something fresh to do on Sunday."]
--_Evening Paper._

At the ample shrine of pleasure
You have worshipped well and long
On this day of so-called leisure,
Yet you feel there's something wrong.

_Blasé_ is your air and jaded;
Sabbath hours have lost their zest;
Utter ennui has invaded
Every corner of your chest.

Sport is shorn of all its glamour;