"He was sitting in the garden in very old clothes, smoking a pipe, and thoroughly enjoying
the complete absence of anything to do. He was aware that officially he loved the bustle of London, but it was extremely
pleasant to sit in his garden and smoke a pipe, and above all to be rid
of those rather
hectic people who had talked quite incessantly
from morning till night all Sunday.
He had given up the cross-word, and was thinking over the material for a sonnet on Tranquillity..."
