Publisher's Synopsis
In the dining-room of a house in Denmark Hill, an elderly lady sits at breakfast reading the newspaper. Her chair is at the end of the oblong dining-table furthest from the fire. There is an empty chair at the other end. The fireplace is behind this chair; and the door is next the fireplace, between it and the corner. An arm-chair stands beside the coal-scuttle. In the middle of the back wall is the sideboard, parallel to the table. The rest of the furniture is mostly dining-room chairs, ranged against the walls, and including a baby rocking-chair on the lady's side of the room. The lady is a placid person. Her husband, Mr Robin Gilbey, not at all placid, bursts violently into the room with a letter in his hand. GILBEY. [grinding his teeth] This is a nice thing. This is a b-- MRS GILBEY. [cutting him short] Leave it at that, please. Whatever it is, bad language wont make it better. GILBEY. [bitterly] Yes, put me in the wrong as usual. Take your boy's part against me. [He flings himself into the empty chair opposite her]. MRS GILBEY. When he does anything right, hes your son. When he does anything wrong hes mine. Have you any news of him? GILBEY. Ive a good mind not to tell you. MRS GILBEY. Then dont. I suppose hes been found. Thats a comfort, at all events. GILBEY. No, he hasnt been found. The boy may be at the bottom of the river for all you care. [Too agitated to sit quietly, he rises and paces the room distractedly]. MRS GILBEY. Then what have you got in your hand?
