The Distant Promise
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, grey mist that settled into the cracks of the old stone and the pores of the skin. In the center of the hall, standing before the massive grandfather clock that had stopped ticking the day his brother died, Arthur Penhaligon waited. He was a man carved from the same hard, silent granite as the house, his uniform immaculate, his...
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