Blore.

Hat the gate, Miss Salome.

Salome.

Don’t risk the cold, Papa.

[Blore goes out, followed by Sheba, Salome, and Tarver. Darbey is going, when he returns to The Dean.

Darbey.

By-the-bye, my dear Dean—come over and see me. We ought to know more of each other. Say Monday.

The Dean.

[Restraining his anger.] I will not say Monday!

Darbey.