Yet still so indefinite was his sense of subordinacy at Ambles that he accused his liver (an honest one that did not deserve the reproach) and bent over his table again with all the determination he could muster. The concrete fact was still missing; his capacity for self-deception was still robust enough to persuade him that it was all a passing fancy, and he might have gone plodding on at Ambles for the rest of the winter if one morning about a week after Laurence had begun to write, the door of his own library had not opened to the usurper, manuscript in hand. "I don't like to interrupt you, my dear fellow.... I know you have your own work to consider ... but I'm anxious for your opinion--in fact I should like to read you my first act." It was useless to resist: if it were not now, it would be later. "With pleasure," said John. Then he made one effort. "Though I prefer reading to myself." "That would involve waiting for the typewriter. Yes, my screed is--ah--difficult to make out. And I've indulged in a good many erasures and insertions. No, I think you'd better let me read it to you." John indicated a chair and looked out of the window longingly at the birds, as patients in the hands of a dentist regard longingly the sparrows in the dingy evergreens of the dentist's back garden. "When we had our little talk the other day," Laurence began, "you will remember that I spoke of a drama I had already written, of which the disciple Thomas was the protagonist. This drama notwithstanding the probably obstructive attitude of the Lord Chamberlain I have rewritten, or rather I have rewritten the first act. I call the play--ah--_Thomas_." "It sounds a little trivial for such a serious subject, don't you think?" John suggested. "I mean, Thomas has come to be associated in so many people's minds with footmen. Wouldn't _Saint Thomas_ be better, and really rather more respectful? Many people still have a great feeling of reverence for apostles." "No, no, _Thomas_ it is: _Thomas_ it must remain. You have forgotten perhaps that I told you he was the prototype of the man in the street. It is the simplicity, the unpretentiousness of the title that for me gives it a value. Well, to resume. _Thomas. A play in four acts. By Laurence Armytage._ By the way, I'm going to spell my name with a y in future. Poetic license. Ha-ha! I shall not advertise the change in the _Times_. But I think it looks more literary with a y. _Act the First. Scene the First. The shore of the Sea of Galilee._ I say nothing else. I don't attempt to describe it. That is what I have learnt from Shakespeare. This modern passion for description can only injure the greatness of the theme. _Enter from the left the Virgin Mary._" "Enter who?" asked John in amazement. "The Virgin Mary. The mother ..." "Yes, I know who she is, but ... well, I'm not a religious man, Laurence, in fact I've not been to church since I was a boy ... but ... no, no, you can't do that." "Why not?"