Noah.
Is it a ’ot dinner?
The Dean.
Hot—with ale.
Noah.
[Turning angrily to Hannah.] Now then, you don’t know a real gentleman when you see one. Why don’t ’ee thank the Dean warmly?
Hannah.
[Kissing The Dean’s hands with a curtsey.] Thank you, sir.
The Dean.
[Benignly.] Go—go. I take a kindly interest in you both.