Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. Twenty guineas, mind. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work.
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