He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “Rhea will return soon. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition.
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