The Golden Compass
The train station smelled of wet wool and stale coffee. Margaret stood on the platform, her breath misting in the cold air, watching her daughter, Clara, walk toward the taxi. Clara was twenty-two, vibrant, and utterly convinced that she was the first person in history to solve the mystery of the Holloway House. She did not look back. She never did. Margaret pulled her coat tighter. It was a...
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