The Golden Farce
The road to Oakhaven was a ribbon of grey gravel that wound through the autumnal decay of the valley, and Elias Thorne drove his hired wagon with a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with the cold. He was thirty-two, a clerk of modest reputation in the city, and he carried a sealed letter from his solicitor that promised a sum of money sufficient to clear the debts that had been...
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