The Wistful Throne
The Great Hall of the St. Jude’s Institute for the Deaf and Dumb did not smell of the sea, nor of the salt spray that had once defined the cliffs outside its windowless perimeter, but of damp wool, boiled cabbage, and the metallic tang of fear. It was a place of stone and silence, a fortress of brick that had been raised in the industrial fog of 1893 to keep the "defective" safe from the world,...
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