The Velvet Garden
The Velvet Garden The rain fell on London in the manner of London rain—relentless, indifferent, and entirely unconcerned with the affairs of men who stood on doorsteps in the half-light, hoping to be invited in and fearing, with equal certainty, that they might be. Arthur Pendelton stood on such a doorstep on an evening in October, 1882, holding a letter that had been addressed to him in a hand...
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