Sachsenheim near Stuttgart; 2009-01-30.
He rowed with a certain exaggerated impetuosity, through the dark side-canals with the horrible, slimy green walls, the canals that go through the poorer quarters, where the washing hangs high up on ropes, and there is a slight, or strong, odour of sewage.
But at last he came to one of the open canals with two women on either side, and looping brides, that run straight, under the little awning, the man was perched above, behind them, wiping his perspiring face with a white-and-blue handkerchief.
‘We are both married ladies,’ said Hilda, in her curious hushed voice, that made her Italian sound so foreign.
There was a pause. After which he asked: ‘Do the signore want or so? Or by the day, or by the week?’
Connie and Hilda considered.
Lady Chatterley's Lover, by D. H. Lawrence [redacted]