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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Beverly of Graustark"

As he arose she glanced for a
flitting second into his dark eyes, and her own long lashes drooped.
"Your highness!" he said gratefully.
"How well and strong you look," she said hurriedly. "Some of the tan is
gone, but you look as though you had never been ill. Are you quite
recovered?"
"They say I am as good as new," he smilingly answered. "A trifle weak
and uncertain in my lower extremities, but a few days of exercise in the
mountains will overcome all that. Is all well with you and Graustark?
They will give me no news here, by whose order I do not know."
"Turn about is fair play, sir. It is a well-established fact that you
will give _them_ no news. Yes, all is well with me and mine. Were
you beginning to think that I had deserted you? It has been two weeks,
hasn't it?"
"Ah, your highness, I realize that you have had much more important
things to do than to think of poor Baldos, I am exceedingly grateful for
this sign of interest in my welfare. Your visit is the brightest
experience of my life."
"Be seated!" she cried suddenly. "You are too ill to stand."
"Were I dying I should refuse to be seated while your highness stands,"
said he simply. His shoulders seemed to square themselves involuntarily
and his left hand twitched as though accustomed to the habit of touching
a sword-hilt. Beverly sat down instantly; with his usual easy grace, he
took a chair near by.


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