Rose has heard, perhaps, that Froude wears a hair-shirt, and wonders if the story is true. The hour points to noon, and two more visitors are expected, John Henry Newman and John Keble. At that moment the post-boy comes, and a maid brings Rose a letter. He hasn't had time to turn round. Well, Keble may be here any minute, so let us pray and begin our conference.
Silence falls upon the group of men.
They kneel in supplication. They seat themselves. They talk, rather aimlessly at first, of the state of Church affairs, of the secularization of the State, of the possibility of Disestablishment and Disendowment, of the oblivion into which true Church principles have fallen. But let me now employ, not my imaginings, but the words of William Palmer. We met after breakfast for some hours each day for three days, sitting round the room.