The Ember Ledger
The Ember Ledger The cellar smelled of damp wool and yesterday's porridge. Ellen Marsh pulled her shawl tighter and listened to the groan of the floorboards above -- her grandfather, Abraham, pacing as only he could pace: measured, grudging, as though even walking wasted energy. "Grandfather," she called up the narrow stair, "I'm going to the train. I'll be back by noon." No answer. She found...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 8 Views 0 voorbeeld