Her beauty was enough to make a man fall to his knees and babble incoherently, but this was a woman of class and I knew that anything above a simple gesture would be the death of me.  As she approached, I went to tip my hat, but realized pretty quickly that I wasn’t wearing one.  Not to leave my hand dangling foolishly in the air, I went ahead and tore a fistful of my hair out of my head and held it out to her, assertively, as if to say, “Yes, I meant to tear out a bunch of my hair and hand it to you.  Do whatever with it.”  I think she smiled, but it was hard to tell with the amount of blood flowing down my face.