"Can't be done," said I. "But I can put your mouth into Italian. Bocca bella carissima. Now, isn't that nice?"
The sweet pretty lips began to tremble with laughter.
"You're incorrigible," she announced. "Fifteen long months, and you haven't changed a bit."
"Long months, Adèle?"
The soft rose of her cheeks was glowing as she turned to reply.
"The longest I've ever spent," she said softly. "That—that's the worst of cutting your hair. I thought it was never going to grow."
"They've been very long ones for me, Adèle."
Up went the delicate eyebrows.
"Have they?"
I nodded.