The entrance faced the moors; and so did the two windows of the large living-room kitchen; West was a fair-sized scullery kitchen. Behind the living-room was a much smaller one, with gorse-bushes choking the view.... “These’ll have to be rooted up and cleared away,” said Doug. Mr. Wenn glanced at him sharply: “The sort I let it tu won’t object tu a bit o’ stiffish digging. It’s only fit for labourers. Not for gentlefolk, o’ course.” Doug and Ursula said nothing. They went upstairs. A large double bedroom looked onto the moors; leading from it was a roomy box-room over the scullery--“My dressing-room,” murmured Doug. Along the short passage ... a door flung open.... [III] A SMALL room with irregular corners, a dipping roof, and two stark windows full of the sea. Ursula’s heart gave a queer sort of twist when she saw it. It was her own room, of which she had been robbed years and years ago--her own room; only with the outlook metamorphosed from a blank wall, to the tumbling shining enchantment of space and green water beyond, and sunshine which slipped about the bare floor. Once again she was whipped by the old feeling of high secret expectation.... In here something significant was to happen to her--to her alone. In the room ... her room ... loving it, she took possession. [IV] “----for a spare-room, in case we want to put somebody up for a few nights,” finished Doug. Wenn had followed them up the stairs: “I’m a blunt man, sir, and when there’s business to be talked, I like to be plain and straightforward about it, and get it over. That’s my way. I don’t mind saying that I like you, and if you was really thinking of settling down at Bella Vista----” “We mean to settle down here,” said Ursula, breaking it to him.