"I will ask him. But your hair, Eve,—"
"Oh, my hair, stupid, is turning dark. Everybody sees it but you. But I don't care, and I love you for it. And you must look out now, for I'm going to kiss you." She seized me about the neck as she spoke, and she did as she had said she would. "There!" she said, laughing. "Did anybody see? Look all about, Adam. The mischief's done. As if a woman couldn't kiss her husband when she wanted to! Now, I'm going to rumple your hair."
She proceeded to the business in hand thoroughly.
"Eve," I cried between rumplings, "there are laws in this State—I don't believe they have been repealed—which forbid a woman's kissing her husband whenever she wants to. It can't be done. And—"
"It can't be done? Oh, yes, it can." She did it. "Now, can it? Say—quickly."
"Yes, yes, it can, Eve. I acknowledge it. But the submarine. You interrupted me. I had not finished."
"Well," she asked, subsiding upon the bench and smiling up into my face, "what about your submarine? I know of many things which I think more important."
"I've no doubt that there are laws against rumpling hair. There ought to be. It's important enough. But the submarine," I added hastily, for I saw indications of further rumpling; "I was only about to remark that if I were out in the bay—"
"In a boat?" Eve asked, still leaning forward and looking up into my face with the smile lurking about her lovely eyes.
"In a boat. If I were out in the bay, and a submarine suddenly popped up beside me, I should feel much more inclined to offer the crew my luncheon than to shoot them."