This was his favourite spot in all the farm.

Here, all the year, they stored the apples, and the smell of the fruit was thick in the air, sweet and strong, clinging about every fibre of the place, so that you could not disturb a strand nor a stone without sending some new drift of the scent up against your nostrils.

All the year after his first visit, Jeremy had been longing to smell that smell again, and now he knelt up against the window, drinking it in.

With his eyes he searched the horizon.

From here you could see the garden with the sun-dial, the fields beyond, the sudden dip with the trees at the edge of it bent crossways by the wind, and there, in such a cup as one's hands might form, just beyond, was the sea...
He stared as though his eyes would start from his head.