The Distant Metropolis
The chandelier in the back room of The Gilded Lily hung low, its crystal prisms fracturing the gaslight into a hundred trembling stars that danced across the faces of the London Municipal Records Office staff. It was a celebration, ostensibly for the promotion of the Senior Archivist, but the air was thick with the cloying scent of over-ripe pears and the sticky residue of excessive champagne,...
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