eleven o’clock
The idea in her mind evidently was that no change had taken place in her but that I was shaking off a mood of irritable pessimism , one of the symptoms of my disease . I did not argue with her though I knew that she was quite wrong . There really was a change in her and I had all along kept a careful watch over my temper . The day after that , being , I believe , the eighth of my illness , I got up at eleven o'clock and put on a pair of trousers under my dressing-gown . McMeekin , backed by the nurse , insisted on my sending for a barber to shave me . I did not like the barber , for , like all his tribe , he was garrulous and I had to appeal to the nurse to stop him talking . Afterward I was very glad I had endured him .