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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Prince of Graustark"

This way, sir."
Robin followed him through a door, down a narrow hallway, up a flight
of stairs and out another door upon a small portico, sheltered by a
heavy canvas awning. Two men were standing at the railing, looking
down upon the impressionistic lights of the sunken city. The Prince
drew back, his face hardening.
"What does this mean, sirrah? You said--"
At the sound of his voice the two men turned, stared at him intently
for an instant and then deliberately strode past him, entered the
door and disappeared. The person in brass buttons followed them.
A soft, gurgling laugh fell upon his ears--a laugh of pure delight.
He whirled about and faced--one who was no longer alone.
She was seated at the solitary little table in the corner; until now
it had escaped his notice for the excellent reason that it was
outside the path of light from the open doorway, and the faint glow
from the adjacent porches did not penetrate the quiet retreat.
He sprang toward her with a glad cry, expecting her to rise. She
remained seated, her hand extended.


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