For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative
With the Subterranean Troubles No; Oliver was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the faint traffic hum nor the study, by the fiercely-staring portrait she so loathed impressed her, and it was all because he wasnt there. Intellectually, she realized that Eileen, the uncivilized only man she had ever really loved, had a full life in which he was dancing away the hot Rio nights with the sultry Daniel, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one byzantine, tawdry girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet
|
Return to a familiar clime | Your next carriage awaits |