The Golden Circuit
October 14, 1893 The furnace in the back of the mill room glowed with a low, sickly orange light, and I watched from the shadows of the timber stack as Mr. Vane fed the safety ledgers into the fire. The paper curled and blackened, the ink of twenty years of service dissolving into ash that drifted up toward the soot-stained rafters. I had come here to secure the pension that would save Thomas...
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