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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Prince of Graustark"

He rules us all. He
laughs at locksmiths--and fathers--but he does not laugh at
sweethearts. Come, I am ready."
He handed her into the cab a moment later, and drew the long deep
breath of one who goes down into deep water. Then he followed after
her. The attendant closed the door.
"Where to, sir?" called Hobbs from the driver's seat.
He received no answer, yet cracked his whip gaily over the horses'
backs and drove out into the slanting rain.
Hobbs was a dependable fellow. He drove the full length of the street
twice, passing the Inn of the Stars both times at a lively clip, and
might have gone on forever in his shuttlecock enterprise, had not the
excited voice of a woman hailed him from the sidewalk.
"Stop! _Attendez_! You! Man!"
He pulled up with a jerk. The dripping figure of Marie ran up from
behind.
"My mistress? Where is she?" panted the girl.
"In heaven," said Hobbs promptly, whereupon Marie pounded on the
glass window of the cab.
Robin quickly opened the door.
"Wha--what is it?"
"Yes, Marie," came in muffled tones from the depths of the cab.


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