Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. "These are my terms, Sir Rowland," he added, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket, and pushing it towards the knight. He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks. Run away now, please. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it.
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