The Wistful Skyline
The ledger weighed four pounds, a dense block of paper and ink that Arthur Vane had carried from the public library to his desk in the Ministry of Internal Affairs, a journey that took forty minutes by hansom cab and cost two shillings, a sum that stung against the empty feeling in his stomach where lunch should have been. He was forty years old, and his fingers, which had once moved with the...
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