The Golden Compass
The ledger book lay open on the scarred oak table, its pages swollen with damp, and Elias Thorne counted the red entries with a finger that had not been clean in three days. Twelve pounds, four shillings, and sixpence was the sum of their ruin, a number that sat in the air like a physical weight, pressing down on the chest of the room, on the ribs of the twelve-year-old boy, and on the cold,...
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