The Well of Ice
I The Spanish moss hung from the oaks like the gray beards of dead men, and Thomas Sutpen III stood at the edge of the swamp and felt the weight of three centuries pressing down on his shoulders. Ice House Plantation was dying. It had been dying since the war, since the cotton money ran out, since the last of the Sutpen men died in a duel over a woman neither of them actually loved. Now there...
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