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. Mr. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay. ’ Martha frowned. Your boyfriend. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. ’ She counted off on her fingers. It's fine with me if it's fine with Cathy, darlin’.
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