PRESS CUTTINGS

Bernard Shaw

1913

The forenoon of the first of April, 1911.

General Mitchener is at his writing table in the War Office,
opening letters. On his left is the fireplace, with a fire
burning. On his right, against the opposite wall is a standing
desk with an office stool. The door is in the wall behind him,
half way between the table and the desk. The table is not quite
in the middle of the room: it is nearer to the hearthrug than to
the desk. There is a chair at each end of it for persons having
business with the general. There is a telephone on the table.
Long silence.

A VOICE OUTSIDE. Votes for Women!

The General starts convulsively; snatches a revolver from a
drawer, and listens in an agony of apprehension. Nothing happens.
He puts the revolver back, ashamed; wipes his brow; and resumes
his work. He is startled afresh by the entry of an Orderly. This
Orderly is an unsoldierly, slovenly, discontented young man.

MITCHENER. Oh, it's only you. Well?

THE ORDERLY. Another one, sir. Shes chained herself.