"Rowland," said Eleanor when she had been standing a minute beside him.
"Mrs. Balliol wants me to cut off my hair."
Mr. Rhys looked up at her, for with one arm round her he was still bending attention upon his work. He glanced up as if in doubt or wonder.
"I have been over to see her," Eleanor repeated, "and she counsels me to cut off my hair; cut it short."
"See you don't!" he said sententiously.
"Why?" said Eleanor.
"It would be the cause of our first and last quarrel."
"Our first," said Eleanor stifling some hidden amusement; "but how could you tell that it would be the last?"
"It would be so very disagreeable!" Mr. Rhys said, with a gravity so dryly comic that Eleanor's gravity was destroyed.
"Mrs. Balliol says I shall find it, my hair, I mean, very much in my way."
"It would be in my way, if it was cut off."