The Pale Verdict
Act I "You will clean the west wing before the light goes, or you will not eat." The voice belonged to Mrs. Ferraro, the matriarch of the estate, a woman whose face was mapped with the same deep furrows as the river outside that had been chained by locks for decades. Concetta Gentile, fourteen and thin as a reed, stood in the hallway holding a bucket that sloshed with cold water. She had come...
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