He was delighted with the success of his plan. He felt happy and confident. How pretty, how charming April was; how much he was in love with her. He took her on his knee and insisted on rearranging her hair.
"But you're only making it worse," she complained.
"Oh, no, I'm not; I'm getting on splendidly. You just wait and see," and he continued to stroke her hair, dividing it so that he could kiss her neck.
"It's in an awful state," she said, "and someone is sure to come before I can tidy it."
"Don't you worry," he said, drawing his fingers along the curved roll of hair. And then suddenly it all came down; the long tresses fell in a cascade about them, covering them in a fine brown net.
"Oh, you beast, you beast!" she said, struggling to get up.
But he held her close.
"Oh, no; it's ripping like that. You look lovely."
"Do I?"
"And, look, I can kiss you through your hair," and he drew a thin curl across her mouth and laid his upon it, moving his lips slightly up and down till he had drawn the hair into their mouths and their lips could meet.