The Last Star-Mender
The Last Star-Mender The fog had been thick over the marshes for three weeks straight. Thomas Webb could not see the water, could not see the horizon, could not see the end of his own life. He had come to the Thames estuary because a milliner's daughter in Whitechapel was dying of consumption, and because a dockworker who shared his bottle had told him of a man in the marshes who could mend...
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