The Saint Persona
The rain in London did not wash things clean. It made everything worse. It turned the soot on the walls to a thick, black paste that clung to your clothes and your skin and, if you stayed out long enough, your soul. Dr. Alexander Hart had been out in the rain for three hours when he found the door. It was in Soho, where the gas lamps flickered like dying things and the alleys smelled of things...
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