As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. “I’ll get a towel. I’ll give you, say, thirty-five guineas a week clear of expenses, and half of anything you earn above the two turns a night. There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her.
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