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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Prince of Graustark"


Schmidt," she said, the tremor gone from her voice.
"And yet you take me to St. Cloud for tea," he said pointedly.
"Ah, but no one is to know of this," she cried warmly. "This is a
secret, a very secret adventure."
He could not help staring. "And that is just why I am mystified. Why
is to-day so different from yesterday?"
"It isn't," she said. "Doesn't all this prove it?"
His face fell. "Don't you want to be seen with me, Miss Guile? Am I
not--"
"Wait! Will you not be satisfied with things as they are and refrain
from asking unnecessary questions?"
"I shall have to be satisfied," said he ruefully.
"I am sorry I said that, Mr. Schmidt," she cried, contrite at once.
"There is absolutely no reason why I should not be seen with you. But
won't you be appeased when I say that I wanted to be with you alone
to-day?"
He suddenly remembered the Baron's shrewd conjecture and let the
opportunity to say something banal go by without a word. Perhaps it
was a test, after all. He merely replied that she was paying him a
greater compliment than he deserved.


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