The Pale Shadows
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray drizzle that turned the cobblestones of Harrow’s End into slick, black mirrors reflecting the low, bruised clouds above. Margaret stood at the window of her solicitor’s office, watching the street below where the pedestrians huddled under umbrellas, their faces obscured, moving with a hurried, defensive grace that she envied for its...
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