The Distant Affair
The ink was still wet on the ledger when the first cough tore through the silence of the counting house, a dry, rattling sound that seemed to chip away at the very foundation of the room, and Margaret Holloway did not look up from the columns of numbers she was balancing, for she had learned long ago that in the industrial sprawl of Blackwood, attention was a currency more volatile than gold...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews