The Golden Myth
The hall smelled of wet wool and stale tobacco, a thick, suffocating mist that clung to the velvet drapes and settled in the hollows of the ornate plasterwork, and beneath that heavy, industrial scent there was the sharper, cleaner note of the old library air, dry and brittle as parchment, which seemed to leak out from behind the heavy oak doors that had just been sealed by the committee, and...
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