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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis: breakfast. It may have been the tremendous home-brewed beer of the
prohibition-era and the cigars to which that beer enticed him; it may have
been resentment of return from this fine, bold man-world to a restricted
region of wives and stenographers, and of suggestions not to smoke so much.
From the bedroom beside the sleeping-porch, his wife's detestably cheerful
"Time to get up, Georgie boy," and the itchy sound, the brisk and scratchy
sound, of combing hairs out of a stiff brush.
He grunted; he dragged his thick legs, in faded baby-blue pajamas, from under
the khaki blanket; he sat on the edge of the cot, running his fingers through
his wild hair, while his plump feet mechanically felt for his slippers. He
looked regretfully at the blanket--forever a suggestion to him of freedom and
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