She laughed, but the rebellious note was still audible.
"I'd rather be free to choose for myself. I hate to have my whole life parcelled out for me by—other people!"
This was a new sound in his ears. Subterranean gases of discontent had been at work; but till this moment the imprisoned forces had found no vent in his hearing.
"Spirit of the Age!" he murmured to himself. Aloud he made a slight encouraging sound, and her words came in a rush.
"I don't see why I should have to do it all. I can't help being a Rector's daughter. If I were a clergyman, or a clergyman's wife, it would be by my own choice. Not because I couldn't help myself. Doesn't it seem rather unfair that I should have to spend my time doing things that I detest, and having none for what I love?—well, not very much, at all events. Oh, I didn't mind so much at first. One likes variety, and it was a change from school. But—lately—"
"Yes—lately—?"
"It has begun to seem—horrid. I've felt horrid sometimes. Don't you know—?" appealingly.
"Perhaps I do. What sort of things is it that you want to do?"
"Oh just heaps! I love music, and I could spend hours over it every day. And hours more over Italian and German. I'm rather good at languages. And I want to read—any amount. And then I should like—" and she paused—"more go—for fun!"
"You are asked to a good many tennis-parties, I believe."