“Because I’m—I don’t know. My pride’s touched that you don’t know me. Would you think it awfully cheeky if I were to ask you to come and have tea with me first?”
She opened her parasol, gaining time while she made her mind up; and then, “I’m game. I haven’t had much adventure lately. I’m just out of a convent school in France.”
He opened his eyes wide. “Ah, so that was it!”
They entered the Red Lion and walked through into the garden. They ordered tea at a small table from which they could see the river.
“Why did you say that?” she asked.
“What did I say?”
“You said, ‘Ah, so that was it!’ You opened your mouth so wide when you said it that I thought you’d gape your head off. When I was a little girl in America we had a colored cook with a decapitating smile—it nearly met at the back of her neck. Well, your ‘Ah’ was a decapitating ‘Ah.’ Now tell me?”
“Because I’ve waited four years to find out where you’ve been hiding.”
“Four years!” She tried to think back.
He leant his elbows on the table, his face between his hands. “Seems a long while, doesn’t it? In four years one can grow up. Last time we were together you made me a promise—you said we’d meet again often in the same place. I went there and went there—you didn’t keep your word.”