His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. I am carrying back a hundred new books and forty new records for the piano-player. The jailers robbed the prisoners: the prisoners robbed one another. Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark.
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