They began to eat in great content.
“Same old sandwiches,” smiled George. “I say, I suppose I needn’t explain why I called myself Geoffrey Carfax.” He blushed a little as he said the name. “I mean, you seem to understand.”
She nodded. “You wanted to get away from George Crosby; I know.”
And then he had a sudden horrible recollection.
“I say, you must have thought me a beast. I brought a terrific lunch out with me the next day, and then I went and lost the place. Did you wait for me?”
Gertie would have pretended she hadn’t turned up herself, but Rosamund said, “Yes, I waited for you. I thought perhaps you had lost the place.”
“I say,” said George, “what lots I’ve got to say to you. When did you recognise me again? Fancy my not knowing you.”
“It was three years, and you’d shaved your moustache.”
“So I had. But I could recognise people just as easily without it.”
She laughed happily. It was the first joke she had heard him make since that day five years ago.