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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Prince of Graustark"


The wonderful vine-covered porches, reeking with signs of decay and
tottering with age, are in truth very substantial affairs constructed
by an ancestor of the present Signor Pingari no longer ago than the
Napoleonic era--which is quite recent as things go in Graustark.
Hobbs drove bravely into the court yard, shouted orders to a couple
of hostlers and descended from the box. The Magyar band was playing
blithely to the scattered occupants of the porches overlooking the
precipice.
"'Ere we are, sir," said he to the Prince, as he jerked open the door
of the cab. "Shall I wait, sir?"
"Certainly," said Robin, climbing out. "I am a long way from home, my
good man."
He hurried up the steps and cast an eye about the place. There were
no ladies unattached. As he was about to start on a tour of
investigation, a polite person in brass buttons came up to him.
"Alone, sir?" he inquired pityingly.
"Quite," said Robin, still peering into the recesses.
"Then come with me, if you please. I am directed to escort you to one
who is also alone.


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