The Golden Farce
The payment is in the envelope, Elias Thorne said, holding it up to the low light of the office window. It is not enough. Margaret Holloway, the clinic director, did not look up from her ledger. The ledger is a heavy, black-bound thing, its spine cracked and held together with tape, filled with columns of red ink that seem to pulse in the dim afternoon. Elias wanted the check to clear the debt...
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