“Yes,” declared Roark, “and if she doesn’t mind some of that hair will drop to the floor. I have been watching it shake as the car rocks on.”
“I should laugh if it would,” declared Sanford.
At that juncture the upper end of a long, yellow curl broke from its mooring, fell back and began to fly with the winds.
“Look at that,” said Roark.
The curl whirled around a time or two and fell to the floor.
The train moved on, crossing rough places in the road, and the sleeping head went up and down. A second curl—what is known as a Minerva knot—began to loosen in the east and the west.
“It’s a landslide this time,” said Sanford.
“It looks that way,” Roark acquiesced.
“But I shall not complain, no matter what comes.”