The Distant Affair
The rain fell in long, grey sheets against the windowpane. It drummed a steady, hollow rhythm on the glass. Elias Vance sat at the head of the table. His hands rested on the wood. They were steady hands. Hands that had held rifles. Hands that had held the weight of the law. But now they held only the silence of the house. The house was old. It had deep bones and deep shadows. It had stood on...
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