The iron cord
ACT ONE: THE ARRIVAL (20%) The fog on the Thames did not lift in the morning of Eleanor Vance's return. It hung over the river like a shroud, thick and yellow with coal smoke, the kind of London fog that got into your lungs and stayed there. She stood on the dock at Wapping, her trunk at her feet, and watched the gas lamps flicker through the mist like dying stars. She had not been back to...
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