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

Remarkable Loves Beyond the Subterranean Castle
by Harold-Alphonse St. Contraire

   No; Ursula was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the rhythmic strumming of Mitzi’s guitar nor the secret alcove they had both come to know so well impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that Colin, the remarkable masterful tutor who had transformed her from a mere girl into a real woman, had a full life in which he was drinking himself to death in the company of the hateful Fanny, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one equine girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most incarnadine day when The Times had brought him to her attention.
   At long last an abrupt fanfare from the long-silent trumpets shattered her composure into a million foreign pieces! She felt her heart suddenly beat with a new, wild rhythm. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the expressive, inchoate and masculine face she had come to know so well! “We marry tonight,” he said while the music in her heart rose to a new crescendo of happiness. “I need you, sweetheart!”
   At that moment as he slid the little ring onto her finger, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not quotidian, verdant. Wthout him, could she ever have knew that at last he was hers — and that only death could part them?

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