There was silence. Cries came from the tennis players, who were just out of sight, and a hum of conversation from nearer groups.
“What are you going to do when you get back to town, Miss Meres?” Vincent asked, regarding her again.
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” she answered vaguely. “Live as usual, I suppose; unless I take some decided step.”
“Decided step? By Jove, how it refreshes me to hear you speak like that! What decided step?”
“I don’t know. I’m very much in your own position, you know; I shall have to earn a living somehow.”
She said it very simply, looking down, and making marks on the grass with the handle of the racket.
“A living? Women don’t make a living; that’s all done for them.”
“Is it?” said Rhoda, and, as soon as the words were spoken, she rose, averting her face.
“There’s our set called!” she exclaimed; “I must go.”
He made a slight gesture as if about to exert himself to detain her; but she was gone. His eyes followed her dreamily.