The Distant Affair
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey drizzle that turned the gravel drive of the Holloway estate into a slurry of mud and stone, and inside the kitchen, which smelled faintly of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of old copper, Julian stood with his back to the window, his hands resting on the cold marble of the island, watching the steam rise from a bowl of soup that...
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