"I like it this way," said Raymond, unplaiting the long braids so as
to fan them better.
"But hers curls up all the prettier when it's wet. Mine strings."
"Straight hair's the nicest," he said with finality.
He liked straight hair best! A wave of celestial bliss stole over
her. It was wonderful: the big, fleecy clouds so serenely beautiful
up in the enigmatic blue; the sun pouring warmly down and drying her
dress in uneven patches; the whisperings of the green-jewelled
leaves and the swishing of the diamond-bubbles on the stones; the
drowsy, mysterious sounds from far away in the woods, and fragrance
everywhere; and everything seeming delightfully remote; even the
other boys and girls--everything and everybody save Raymond,
standing there so patiently fanning the straight hair he admired.
Oh, the whole place was entrancing, entrancing in a new way; and her
sensations, too, were entrancing in a new way. Even when Raymond, as
he manipulated her hair, inadvertently pulled the roots, the prickly
pains seemed to tingle on down through her being in little tremors
of pure ecstasy.
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