The Bell in the Bell Tower
I The fog rolled off the Thames like a shroud being drawn across the face of London. It was November, 1888, and the city had learned to wear the fog as one wears a mourning veil--heavy, suffocating, permanent. Maria Crawford walked through the gaslit streets of Whitechapel with her basket of finished embroidery. Nineteen years old, Irish immigrant, she had learned to stitch lace and ribbon into...
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