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But
this
time
when
he
talked
about
Madrid
there
was
no
slipping
into
make
-
believe
again
.
Now
he
was
just
lying
to
his
girl
and
to
himself
to
pass
the
night
before
battle
and
he
knew
it
.
He
liked
to
do
it
,
but
all
the
luxury
of
the
acceptance
was
gone
.
But
he
started
again
.
"
I
have
thought
about
thy
hair
,
"
he
said
.
"
And
what
we
can
do
about
it
.
You
see
it
grows
now
all
over
thy
head
the
same
length
like
the
fur
of
an
animal
and
it
is
lovely
to
feel
and
I
love
it
very
much
and
it
is
beautiful
and
it
flattens
and
rises
like
a
wheatfield
in
the
wind
when
I
pass
my
hand
over
it
.
"
"
Pass
thy
hand
over
it
.
"
He
did
and
left
his
hand
there
and
went
on
talking
to
her
throat
,
as
he
felt
his
own
throat
swell
.
"
But
in
Madrid
I
thought
we
could
go
together
to
the
coiffeur
’
s
and
they
could
cut
it
neatly
on
the
sides
and
in
the
back
as
they
cut
mine
and
that
way
it
would
look
better
in
the
town
while
it
is
growing
out
.
"
"
I
would
look
like
thee
,
"
she
said
and
held
him
close
to
her
.
"
And
then
I
never
would
want
to
change
it
.
"
"
Nay
.
It
will
grow
all
the
time
and
that
will
only
be
to
keep
it
neat
at
the
start
while
it
is
growing
long
.
How
long
will
it
take
it
to
grow
long
?
"
"
Really
long
?
"
"
No
.
I
mean
to
thy
shoulders
.
It
is
thus
I
would
have
thee
wear
it
.
"
"
As
Garbo
in
the
cinema
?
"
"
Yes
,
"
he
said
thickly
.
