The Pale Shadows
The quarterly report lay on the mahogany desk of Director Halloway, a pristine white rectangle that seemed to glow with an impossible cleanliness against the grime of the Whitmore Steel Mill administrative office, a place where the air tasted of iron filings and the low, thrumming vibration of the blast furnaces below was felt more in the teeth than in the ears. I, Arthur Vane, a clerk of...
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