The Prince found Buttercup waiting unhappily outside his chamber doors. It's my letter,' she began. 'I cannot make it right.'Come in, come in,' the Prince said gently. 'Maybe we can help you.' She sat down in the same chair as before. 'All right, I'll close my eyes and listen; read to me.'Westley, my passion, my sweet, my only my own. Come back, come back. I shall kill myself otherwise. Yours in torment, Buttercup.' She looked at Humperdinck. 'Well? Do you think I'm throwing myself at him?
William GoldmanAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: american
- Born: August 12, 1931
- Died: November 16, 2018
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They tended to wield the huge blunt ax of the law in circumstances that required the delicate scalpel of common sense. [...] Policeman with their great big boots were not required here on a night like this. It would be a good idea to put a thumbtack under the ponderous feet of Justice.
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