Cut it as short as you can. “I’m not going to kill you, John. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. “No! I want to do without that. Not very long, if you want to get well. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question.
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