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.

“Sally Groves was no more than half right,” he said, “so her fame for wisdom is shaken.  She told us we didn’t know we loved one another, Estelle.  But I know I love you well enough, and I’ve been shaking in my shoes to tell you so for months and months.  I knew I was getting too old every minute and yet couldn’t say the word.  But I must say it now at any cost.  Chicky, I love you—­dearly, dearly I love you—­because I’m calm and steady, that doesn’t mean I’m not in a blaze inside.  I never thought of it even while you were growing up.  But a time came when I did begin to think of it like the deuce; and when once I did, the thought towered up like the effreet let out of the bottle—­that story you loved when you were small.  But my only fear and dread is that you’ve always been accustomed to think of me as so much older than you are.  If you once get an idea into your head about a person’s age, you can’t get it out again.  At least, I can’t; so I’m afraid you’ll regard me as quite out of the question for a husband.  If that’s so, I’ll begin over again.”

Her eyes were round and her mouth a little open.  She did not blink when the lightning flashed.

“But—­but—­” she said.

“If I’m not too old, there are no ‘buts’ left,” he declared firmly.  “Ten years is no great matter after all, and from the point of view of brains, I’m an infant beside you.  Then say ‘yes,’ my darling—­say ‘yes’ to me.”

“I wonder—­I wonder, Ray?”

“Haven’t you ever guessed what I felt?”

“Yes, in a vague way.  At least I knew there was something growing up between us.”

“It was love, my beautiful dear.”

She smiled at him doubtfully.  The colour had come back to her face, but she did not respond when he lifted his arms to her.

“Are you sure—­can you be sure, Ray?  It’s so different,—­so shattering.  It seems to smash up all the past into little bits and begin the world all over again—­for you and me.  It’s such a near thing.  I’ve seen the married people and wondered about it.  You might get so weary of always having me so close.”