Tumulty: Oh, Governor, this is the best you’ve ever done.
Wilson: Tumulty, it does me good to hear you speak so. I guess—why, surely this building is strangely unsteady—or—Everything’s going. Why, Grayson, it’s—it’s dark.
Grayson: Bear up, Sir. A touch of vertigo. You’re tired.
Wilson (horror in his eyes): No. My speech. Failing. I can’t—articulate.
He sinks into Grayson’s arms, and is lowered into a chair. Mrs. Wilson falls on her knees beside him.
Tumulty: In God’s name, Admiral——?
Grayson: Paralysis. The tour is over.
They prepare to carry the President away.
The Scene closes.