The Distant Machine
The cellar is damp, Julian, and the smell of rot is not a metaphor but a fact, yet I am writing to you from the dryness of my study because I am a man of precision, if not of comfort. I require a loan of two thousand pounds, to be secured against the estate, and I write to you because you are the only relative with the liquidity to grant it, though I suspect your interest in my affairs is as...
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