\"Ever thought about letting me do something with your hair?\" Not needing an answer, Shari got up and whipped out a vented brush from an overstuffed drawer. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Manning told her he loved beauty, and extorted a similar admission from her; he then expatiated upon his own love of beauty. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. Such a time that it takes for them to go.
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