The Distant Temple
The hall was choked with the scent of roasted goose and stale champagne, a thick, cloying atmosphere that pressed against the eardrums like deep water. Margaret Holloway stood at the edge of the banquet table, her glass untouched, watching the guests swirl in their formal wear. It was a celebration for Arthur Penhaligon, the town’s most celebrated architect, who had just retired after fifty...
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