seven until six
He had slept for several hours , had finished reading his last library book , and now , as he clasped his hands behind his head , yawning lazily , he remembered that he had not written home for two weeks . Letter-writing had become a dreaded task now . What was there to tell them of himself that he cared for them to know ? Only that he worked from seven until six , ate , slept , and rose to work again with the dreary monotony of a machine . For seven months he had not been inside a church door . The only people he met now were the workmen at the factory and the boys with whom he spent his evenings . He could not mention them .