A Political Finale
The Scene is a sitting-room in Downing Street. The date March, 1894. The time 10.30 p.m.
Mrs. Gladstone sits before the fire, on a sofa comfortable for two, finishing off a piece of knitting. Apparently she has just rung the bell, on the arrival from the dining-room of her husband and his two guests, for presently the door opens and the footman presents himself for orders. Mr. Gladstone takes down from the bookshelf a backgammon board, which he opens upon a small table somewhat distant from the fireplace.
GLADSTONE. Well, Armitstead, draughts, or backgammon?
ARMITSTEAD. It was backgammon you promised me.
GLADSTONE. A rubber?
ARMITSTEAD. I shall be delighted.
(They seat themselves, and begin to set the board. Mr. Morley stands detached looking on, grave, not quite at ease.)
MRS. G. (to the footman). James, bring up the wine and some biscuits.
JAMES. Whisky, madam?