Then she went away with Rita.
When she returned, the piazza was deserted except for Neville, who stood on the steps smoking and looking out across the misty waste.
"I usually go up with Rita," she said.

"Rita is a dear.

But do you know, I believe she is not a particularly happy girl." "Why ?" "I don't know why....

After all, such a life--hers and mine--is only happy if you make it so....

And I don't believe she tries to make it so.
Perhaps she doesn't care.