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 "I couldn't come back for less than six shillings a week, sir," she said firmly. "It would take me ever so long to get your rooms clean again after that dirty old woman. Besides, you said I told lies."

Mr. Gedge-Tomkins scowled darkly at her. Without a word he turned round, went back into his chambers, and slammed the door. Pollyooly's face fell at this sudden fortune's sudden flight. But a quarter of an hour later his door opened again, and out he came.

He walked across the landing and said heavily, "I'll pay you six shillings a week. After all, with you I know the worst that is to be known, and you do not drink whisky. Get my breakfast."

"Thank you, sir," said Pollyooly, with an angel smile; and she dropped a curtsey.