IT was the close of a lovely day in October, in the year of our Lord—but no matter what year. The morning king had been heralded by a rich display of fireworks: and now his departure caused a gorgeous illumination of the whole western sky. Purple and orange and amber and scarlet, rose bank upon bank, each color vying with the others in its endeavor to do honor to the departing monarch. The place was Canterbury, a thriving village in the suburbs of the large city of —.…
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