About a year has passed since David had gotten married. He has found such success at freelance writing that he is currently writing a book of fiction. Presently, as he is taking a walk, thinking about the book he is writing, he passes the Steerforths’ residence (which he has done so numerous times) and thinks how gloomy and dull the house is when he is waylaid by the Steerforth’s housemaid. She implores David to have a word with Rosa Dartle. David obliges.