Horace, who had never consciously looked at it before, gave it a glance and remarked, ‘Tight little place. Some old woman lives there—a Miss Bulteel, or some such.’225

‘Not now, I think,’ said Ursula. ‘She has gone away to live with a niece.’

Horace remarked that there must be some purpose in nieces, and left it at that.

‘So now it’s for sale,’ continued Ursula. ‘And I’ve got the first refusal of it. For you, dear.’

She had timed the drive very well. When they got back, the kitchen fire was out, the rooms were looking their worst in the sallow twilight, and the rising wind was scattering the dead leaves from the lime-tree clump. To its banshee obbligato Ursula spoke of the providential concatenation of Box Cottage for sale at £3500, and a London nerve specialist who had been inquiring from Bond, the house agent, if Bendish Hall would ever become vacant, and who would certainly give five thousand for it. By the end of the evening, she was in a position to disclose that not only had she got a first refusal on Box Cottage but had in fact paid down a deposit to secure it. Victory was in sight. To Horace, bewildered by the ease with which he had fallen, it seemed total victory. To Ursula, visiting the house agent next morning, it was revealed as not quite so total, for the person who had been thinking of Bendish Hall as a possible nursing-home for cases needing seclusion had left off thinking so and had bought a house elsewhere.

‘But we shall find a purchaser, of course,’ said Mr Bond. ‘Purchasers can be found, even for this class of property. The housing situation is so desperate that nothing can be called unsaleable. And “Immediate Possession” are words to conjure with. Of course, a little renovation would help.’226

Ursula said that this could not be afforded. Immediate Possession must be left to do the trick.

‘Yes, yes! Immediate Possession,’ Mr Bond agreed. ‘After all, that is the real desideratum in a house—to be able to get into it. Humm! No, I am not unhopeful. By the way, will Mr Winterton stay on until we have found a buyer?’

‘Oh no!’ said Ursula reassuringly; but Mr Bond’s face fell.

‘In a way, that is a pity,’ he said. ‘When a house has been lived in for so long, it makes a better impression if still inhabited. Renovation is best. But if that is out of the question, then one likes to see curtains and carpets about.’

Ursula said that perhaps Mr Winterton might be persuaded to stay on for the present. Mr Bond mewed more hopefully.

‘This is intolerable,’ said Horace, who during the morning had been teaching himself to look forward to fuel-saving grates. ‘Does Bond suppose I am going to act as his unpaid caretaker, sweeping and polishing and opening the door to his revolting customers? Besides, my health won’t stand it.’

Having taken so much pains to set him up as a valetudinarian, Ursula controlled the impulse to say ‘Fiddlesticks!’ and replied, ‘That’s just it. I don’t think your health would stand a move just yet, Horace. Besides, there are those two ceilings at Box Cottage that need replastering. You can’t possibly settle in a house until the plaster is perfectly dry. It would be madness.’