"My hair," she whispered, "see--it's all coming down!"
"Well, let it--I'd love to see it so, Hermione."
"Should you? Why then--let me go," she pleaded.
Reluctantly he loosed her, and standing well beyond his reach, she shook
her shapely head, and down, down fell the heavy coils, past shoulder and
waist and hip, rippling in shining splendour to her knees. Then, while
he gazed spellbound by her loveliness she laughed a little unsteadily,
and flushing beneath his look, turned and fled from him to the door;
when he would have followed she stayed him.
"Please," she said, tender-voiced, "I want to be alone--it is all so
wonderful, I want to be alone and--think."
"I may see you again to-night, Hermione? Dear--I must."
"Why, if you must," she said, "how can I--prevent you?"
Then, all at once, her cool, soft arms were about his neck, had drawn
him down to meet her kiss, and--he was alone with the pastry board, the
rolling-pin and the flour-dredger--but he saw them all through a golden
glory, and when he somehow found himself out upon the dingy landing, the
glory was all about him still.
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