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

Underneath the Quixotic Stormcloud
by Nelly van der Chaykin, AA, RN

   Waiting alone in the great, oak-panelled library, with the barbarian rank odour of decay wafting in from outside, the still-proud Princess thought once more of the Chief’s handsome son, the man who had taught her how to feel. He was now, according to Tom’s shocking revelation, dancing away the hot Rio nights with the sultry Fanny.
   It was then that came a knock at the door, and she realized, in a single instant, what was now to happen. He was here! “I worship you, Sweet Cheeks!” he laughed in one frantic breath.
   Only in this moment of extremity could it have happened that the music in her heart rose to a new crescendo of happiness, and as he dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief she herself had made for him, she started to think about what they would call their children.

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