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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Prince of Graustark"

She knelt with one knee upon the
seat and peered back along the road.
"There they are!" she cried. She threw the veil back over her hat as
she resumed her seat in the corner. Her eyes were fairly dancing with
excitement. The warm red lips were parted and she was breathing
quickly. Suddenly she laid her hand over her heart as if to check its
lively thumping. "Isn't it splendid? We are being pursued--actually
chased by the man-hunters of Paris! Oh, I was never so happy in my
life. Isn't it great?"
"It is glorious!" he cried exultantly. "Shall I tell the chauffeur to
hit it up a bit? Let's make it a real chase."
"Yes, do! We'll see if we can foil them, as they say in the books.
Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if we were to--to--what do you call it?
Give them the slip, isn't that it?"
"I'm game," said he, with enthusiasm. For a second or two they looked
straight into each other's eyes and a message was exchanged that
never could have been put into words. No doubt it was the flush of
eager excitement that darkened their cheeks.


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