The Pale Verdict
The debt was forty-two pounds, six shillings, and three pence. Arthur counted the coins in his palm, the brass cold and damp, trying to make the numbers stop spinning. Outside, the mill’s steam whistle blew, a low, mournful note that vibrated in his teeth. He was twelve, and the ink in his fingers had not yet dried from the ledger he was supposed to be balancing. The room smelled of wet wool...
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