The Distant Clue
The air in the Grand Hall of the St. Jude’s Institute for Orphaned Girls was thick, not merely with the scent of roasted pheasant and stale beeswax, but with the suffocating weight of expectation, a physical thing that pressed against the lungs of every attendee, the heavy velvet curtains whispering secrets of propriety while the chandeliers above cast a golden, jaundiced light over the sea of...
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