Sylvia viewed the old building with appreciation.

It stood, long and low and cleanly white-washed, on the brink of a deep ghyll filled with lichened boulders and russet ferns, with a firwood close behind it, and in front a wide vista of moors and fells that stood out darkly blue against the evening light.
Near the stone porch, a rustic table stood beside a row of tall red hollyhocks.
"It's a charming spot," Sylvia exclaimed.

"Can't we have tea outside ?" Bland ordered it and they sat down to a neatly-served meal.

The evening was warm and very still and clear.

A rattle of wheels reached them from somewhere far down the road and they could hear the faint splash of water in the depths of the ravine.
"This is really delightful," murmured Sylvia, when the table had been cleared.