All things considered, it was. Her nose was embedded in the cloth about two inches above my left breast-pocket. In silence I kissed her hair four times. Then:
"I confess," I said, that the real blue-black hair has always been a weakness of mine.
At that she struggled to rise, but the angle was against her, and, honestly, I couldn't do much. The next minute she had found the edge of the wind-screen—fortunately open at the time of the accident—and had pulled herself off me.
"My hair must have been—"
"Almost in my mouth," I said. "Exactly. I have been—"
"What?"
"Licking it, my dear. It's awfully good for hair, you know—imparts a gloss-like and silky appearance. Besides, since—"
"Idiot!"
I climbed gingerly out of the car, and then helped her into the bushes.
"Suffering from shock, Alice? I'm really devilish sorry."