The Last Promenade
The Last PromenadeThe fog clung to Manchester like a wet shroud. Arthur Pendelton stood at the factory gate and watched the last steam engine disappear into the grey, carrying the foreman and the promise of wages that would never come. Twelve hundred men walked out with him that afternoon. Twelve hundred men who had spent their lives pulling cotton through iron teeth, now suddenly pulling...
0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 7 Views 0 Vista previa