Newspaper reporters camped on the trail of Mr. Blithers. He very
obligingly admitted that there was something in the report that his
daughter was to marry the Prince of Graustark, although he couldn't
say anything definite at the time. It wouldn't be fair to the parties
concerned, he explained. He gave away a great many boxes of cigars,
and not a few of the more sagacious reporters succeeded in getting at
least three boxes by interviewing him on as many separate occasions
without being detected in the act of repeating. Then came the
disgusting denials in Paris by his daughter and the ungrateful
Prince. This was too much. He couldn't understand such unfilial
behaviour on the part of one, and he certainly couldn't forgive the
ingratitude of the other.
Instead of waiting until Saturday to sail, he changed ships and left
New York on Friday, thereby gaining nothing by the move except relief
from the newspapers, for it appears that he gave up a five day boat
for one that could not do it under six. Still he was in active
pursuit, which was a great deal better than sitting in New York
twiddling his thumbs or looking at his watch and berating the
pernicious hours that stood between him and Saturday noon.
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