The Golden Song
The letter lay on the table, the ink still wet and smudged where his thumb had pressed it, listing the deductions from his pay for the month of November: twenty-two pounds for the sanatorium, three for the coal, and the remainder, a pitiful scrap, held in trust by the Quartermaster until Elias Thorne’s discharge was finalized. He stared at the figures, the cold air of the barracks seeping...
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