The Golden Farce
The looms in the mill at Glenmoray clattered like the teeth of hungry men, a rhythmic pounding that shook the dust from the rafters and settled it into the lungs of the workers. Outside, the wet snow lay heavy on the oak savanna, pressing the branches low against the earth. Duncan Lennox stood in the doorway of his study, the manuscript of his thesis clutched in a hand that did not quite stop...
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