“Oh, no,” protested Stewart, drawing back in horror. “That would be desecration—why, it’s the most beautiful hair in the world!”
“Nonsense! In any case, it will grow again.”
“Why not just tie it up under your cap?”
But she shook her head.
“No—it must come off. I might lose the cap—you see it is too large—and my hair would betray us. Cut it off, my friend—be quick.”
She was right, of course, and Stewart, with a heavy heart, snipped away the long tresses. Then he trimmed the hair as well as he was able—which was very badly indeed. Finally he parted it rakishly on one side—and only by a supreme effort restrained himself from taking her in his arms and kissing her.
“Really,” he said, “you’re so ridiculously lovely that I’m in great danger of violating our treaty. I warn you it is extremely dangerous to look at me like that!”
She lowered her eyes instantly, but she could not restrain the dimple. Luckily, in the shadow, Stewart did not see it.
“We must make my clothing into a bundle,” she said, sedately. “I may need it again. Besides, these people must not suspect that I have gone away disguised like this. That will give us a great advantage. Yes, gather up the hair and we will take it too—it would betray us. Put the cigars in your pocket. I will take the pipe and tobacco.”
“Do you expect to smoke? I warn you that that pipe is a seasoned one!”