A door opposite the door of admission from the passage opened into the bedroom; and a window at the side looked out on the open space in front of the hotel, and commanded a view of the vast expanse of the Craig Fernie moor, stretching away below the rising ground on which the house was built.
Anne turned in despair from the view in the room to the view from the window.

Within the last half hour it had changed for the worse.

The clouds had gathered; the sun was hidden; the light on the landscape was gray and dull.

Anne turned from the window, as she had turned from the room.

She was just making the hopeless attempt to rest her weary limbs on the sofa, when the sound of voices and footsteps in the passage caught her ear.
Was Geoffrey's voice among them?
No.
Were the strangers coming in?
The landlady had declined to let her have the rooms: it was quite possible that the strangers might be coming to look at them.