‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. I’d need to be out of my senses. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased.
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