"You're old enough to know your own business," she answered; "but don't you go lecturing other people about matrimony while you're a bachelor yourself--else you'll get the worst of it--as you have now." They left her and laughed together. "Yet I've heard you say she was the most sensible woman that ever worked in the mills," argued Raymond. Estelle made no direct reply, but spoke of Sally in the past at one of her parties, when the staff took holiday and spent a day at Weymouth. Their conversation faded before they reached North Hill House, and then, as they entered the drive, Raymond reminded Estelle of a time long vanished and an expedition taken when she was a child. "Talking of good things, d'you remember our walk to Chilcombe in the year one? Or, to be more exact, when you were in short frocks." "I remember well enough. How my chatter must have bored you." "You never bored me in your life, Chicky. In fact, you always seem to have been a part of my life since I began to live. That event happened soon after our walk, if I remember rightly. You really seem as much a part of my life as my right hand, Estelle." "Well, your right hand can't bore you, certainly." "Some of the things that it has done have bored me. But let's go to Chilcombe again--not in the car--but just tramp it as we did before. How often have you been there since we went?" She considered. "Twice, I think. My friends there left ten years ago and my girl friend died. I haven't been there since I grew up." "Well, come this afternoon." "It's going to rain, Ray." "Since when did rain frighten you?" "I'd love to come." "A walk will do me good," he said. "I'm getting jolly lazy." "So father thinks. He hates motors--says they are going to make the next generation flabby and good-for-nothing." They started presently under low grey clouds, but the sky was not grey for them and the weather of their minds made them forget the poor light and sad south-west wind laden with rain. It held off until they had reached Chilcombe chapel, entered the little place of prayer and stood together before the ancient reredos. The golden-brown wood made a patch of brightness in the little building. They were looking at it and recalling Estelle's description of it in the past, when the storm broke and the rain beat on the white glass in the windows above them. "How tiny it's all grown," said Estelle. "Surely everything has shrunk?" They had the chapel to themselves and, sitting beside her in a pew, Raymond asked her to marry him. Thunder had wakened in the sky, and the glare of lightning touched their faces now and then. But they only remembered that afterwards.