The Wistful Grid
The banquet hall of the St. Jude’s Orphanage and Workhouse, located in the soot-stained heart of Manchester, smelled of boiled cabbage, damp wool, and the metallic tang of iron filings that seemed to permeate the very air of the institution. It was a celebration of sorts, a quarterly inspection by the Board of Guardians that required a semblance of order and, if possible, a display of the moral...
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