THE PRIME MINISTER
167
Margaret.
[As before.] The Kingdom—the Power—and the
Glory!
Sir Robert.
But lie dowm now. The doctor will be here
presently. You will recover. It will be well with
you soon.
Margaret.
[Sinking back with a rapturous smile, but holding to his hand.] Yes, yes, it will be well with me—soon.
[The soft voices of the carol-singers swell up overhead.
Voices Overhead.
"Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled."
[Margaret listens, looking up, and then, still smiling, she closes her eyes.
[The voices die down. All the church bells of London seem to be ringing a joyful peal.
THE CURTAIN SLOWLY DESCENDS
PRINTED AT THE COMPLETE PRESS
WEST NORWOOD, LONDON, S.W.
