The Pale Verdict
The letter from the leaseholder lay on the steel table, its ink smudged at the edges where Elara’s thumb had pressed against the paper. It was a simple calculation: the new Hargreaves loom had to produce a consistent output of four hundred yards of twill per day for three consecutive weeks, or the lease would be revoked and the factory, along with Elara’s position as inspector, would dissolve...
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