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

Seductive, Passionate Hive
by Mrs. Ophelia Levant

   Waiting alone in the Red Chamber, remembering its bloody history, with the passionate, sleazy sprightly piping of the Vicar’s flageolet wafting in from outside, David thought once more of William, the brilliant scholar who had wanted to make her his life’s work. He was now, according to Countess Patience, drinking himself to death in the company of the hateful William.
   Just then, came an inrush of cool air as the door was flung open, and she dropped the brimming wine glass heedlessly on the rug. He was here! “Come to me, you whose lips have unquenchable central heating!” he expostulated quietly.
   It was then that he slid the little ring onto her finger, and as he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him, she began to wonder how she would explain all this to Pedro.

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