For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

The Aristocratic Stranger
by Herr Roger Hovind

   No; Irving Fillmore, Student Nurse, was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the plaintive braying of the Don’s llamas nor the little walled garden impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that the Chief’s handsome son, the brightest ‘hooded visitor’ in her recurring dream, had a full life in which he was seeking a new life as a Foreign Legionnaire, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one foreign girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most ultramarine day when Countess Terri had brought him to her attention.
   It was then that a sudden commotion, heavy footsteps in the hall shattered her composure into a million silver pieces! She instinctively checked her fingernails. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the verdant, almost quixotic and masculine face she had come to know so well! “We marry tonight,” he breathed while it dawned on her that her days of loneliness were over. “I need you, my angel — my porcelain angel!”
   At long last as the music in her heart rose to a new crescendo of happiness, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not untamed. Wthout him, could she ever have realized thankfully that, in the end, things always work out really, really well?

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