matically at the dark image of a long-haired girl-still obviously slim under her bulky fur coat. Then "Oh Paul dear" when I saw who it really was, embraced my old friend (though Meg's perfume on the coat made me doubt my senses again). “Come in! Have something to eat at the kitchen table. Bet you're starved!"

"You're not just blowing smoke, Zelda. I'm like dead from malnu- trition. Tell ya' how glad I am to see you after my nutrients."

He threw aside his pretty coat indifferently. (I knew it's cost Meg $800.) Sat down and began wolfing cheese sandwiches and milk.

I was fascinated by his appetite but more fascinated by the long tumble of his Hippie hair down his back. It was tangled, shapeless but a cascade any girl would give her eye-teeth for. I couldn't resist it any- more than I can resist straightening a crooked picture on the wall. To forestall any objections I said firmly, “Paul—I will let you stay here. But you've got to follow my directions or no dice.”

"Who's nixing anything? You're the boss. I'm just freaky lucky to get a pad."

"First of all, I must brush out that messy hair.'

"As long as you don't cut it off," he said faintly, through his full mouth. "That means something to me--took me a year or more to grow it. Brush away."

I dove in with brush and comb with unbridaled enthusiasm. Soon had it straight and gleaming. He had washed it recently. While he was concentrating on his vitamins I finger-rolled curls in a rolling upswing- ing wave about the bottom. Oh I could just spend hours, Doing Things, with that lovely wealth of hair! A lovely, exciting thought occurred to

me.

First of all The Thought would be a perfect sublimation. I wouldn't have to be torn by the conflicts of having a boy that I liked right in my ⚫own house. Some other practical things I'd have to explain to Pauly. And most of all I wanted to Do It—come perdition or high water.

After eating, Paul surprised me by asking to take a bath.

"Don't get shook," he snorted. "Hippies like to bathe as well as any-

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