The Melting Point of Iron Will
Thaddeus Ashburton had not smiled in eleven years. He knew this with the precision of a man who measured everything, including the muscles of his own face. He had once made a clerk weep by simply looking at him across a mahogany desk for four minutes without speaking. The clerk had been embezzling thirty-seven dollars a month from the railroad accounts, and Thaddeus had known it within thirty...
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