heed you paid to Anno Domini.

GLADSTONE. You never lent it the weight of your counsels, my own love--
till now.

MRS. G. I know, William, when talking is useless.

GLADSTONE. Ah! I wonder--if I do.

MRS. G. No; that's why I complain. Twenty years ago you said you were
going to retire from politics and take up theology again--that you were
old, and had come to an end. Why, you were only just beginning! And it
will always be the same; any day something may happen--more Bulgarian
atrocities, or a proposal for Welsh disestablishment. Then you'll break
out again!

GLADSTONE. But I am in favour of Welsh disestablishment, my dear--when it
comes.

MRS. G. Are you? Oh, yes; I forgot. You are in favour of so many things
you didn't used to be. Well, then, it will be something else. You will
always find an excuse; I shall never feel safe about you.

GLADSTONE (_in moved tone_). And if you could feel safe about me--
what then?

MRS. G. Oh, my dear, my dear, if I could! Always I've seen you neglecting
yourself--always putting aside your real interests--the things that you
most inwardly cared about, the things which you always meant to do when
you "had time." And here I have had to sit and wait for the time that