The Distant Affair
The banquet hall of the Ashworth estate, a sprawling Victorian decrescence of mahogany and velvet that smelled of stale wine and damp stone, was illuminated by a chandelier that swung with a slow, hypnotic indifference, casting long, trembling shadows that seemed to breathe against the wallpaper as if the house itself were a living, weary beast. Colonel Elias Thorne sat at the head of the...
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