The Golden Compass
The rain in the valley did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, gray mist that clung to the wool of Elias Thorne’s coat and the stone walls of the library. He had spent forty years inside the four corners of the university, his life measured not in years but in footnotes and marginalia. He was a man of quiet dignity, a historian of the medieval period whose reputation was built on a...
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