The book-form, in which the board
still conceals itself, stands as a memorial of its secretive preservation
upon the shelves of the monastic libraries. I keep my own, with a certain
touch of ritualistic observance, between this seventeenth century edition
of the works of Roger Bacon and this more modern one, in Latin, of the
writings of Thomas Aquinas; both of whom may not improbably have been
practitioners of the game.
ARMITSTEAD. Very interesting, very interesting.
(_During this recitation Mr. Gladstone has neatly packed away the
draughts and the dice, shutting them into their case finally and restoring
it to its place upon the bookshelf_.)
GLADSTONE. My dear, I have won the rubber.
MRS. G. Have you, my dear? I'm very glad, if Mr. Armitstead does not mind.
ARMITSTEAD. To be beaten by Mr. Gladstone, ma'am, is a liberal education
in itself.
MORLEY (_to his host_). I must say good-night, now, sir.
GLADSTONE. What, my dear Morley, must you be going?
MORLEY. For one of my habits it is almost late--eleven.
ARMITSTEAD. In that case I must be going, too. Can I drop you anywhere,
Morley?
MORLEY. Any point, not out of your way, in the direction of my own door, I
shall be obliged.
ARMITSTEAD. With pleasure. I will come at once. And so--good-night, Mrs.
Gladstone. Mr. Prime Minister, good-night.
GLADSTONE. Good-night, Armitstead.
MORLEY (_aside to Mr. Gladstone_). I have done what you asked of me,
sir.
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