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Finally, Monday morning. The town yawned itself awake, and Ross was already standing at the brass-handled doors of Goldsborough Mort & Co., looking as if he’d been waiting there since Federation. The clock struck nine with a sense of ceremony that the rest of Echuca didn’t share. He stepped inside to find that the world of commerce smelled faintly of tobacco, ink, and smugness.
By Michael HoldingFinally, Monday morning. The town yawned itself awake, and Ross was already standing at the brass-handled doors of Goldsborough Mort & Co., looking as if he’d been waiting there since Federation. The clock struck nine with a sense of ceremony that the rest of Echuca didn’t share. He stepped inside to find that the world of commerce smelled faintly of tobacco, ink, and smugness.