The Distant Affair
The letter lay on the blotter, its paper yellowed and brittle, the ink of Mr. Thorne’s signature a sharp, black scar across the white expanse. Arthur Vane read it three times, the words refusing to settle into his mind, each repetition sharpening the edge of the rejection until it felt like a physical cut against his palm. He was thirty-four, a clerk of twelve years’ service in the Accounts...
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