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Asher Black opens the tall oaken doors that moan on their hinges. It is quite apparent that he has no butler. He is wearing a black smoking jacket, black reverse pleated gaberdine wool trousers, and black leather house slippers. He is smoking a black sandblast 90 degree drop briar pipe that smells at once spicy, pungent, and aromatic.
“Do come in,” he invites. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here, that you’ve brought writing, or at least your excellent minds, and will be pleased to stay for some time.”















