I dare say I am resolving against the very things that have given me the most trouble just now.' 'No, I don't think you are. The idea of stately simplicity accords well with your character.' Margaret did not quite like this speech; she winced away from it more, from remembering former occasions on which he had tried to lead her into a discussion (in which he took the complimentary part) about her own character and ways of going on. She cut his speech rather short by saying: 'It is natural for me to think of Helstone church, and the walk to it, rather than of driving up to a London church in the middle of a paved street.' 'Tell me about Helstone. You have never described it to me. I should like to have some idea of the place you will be living in, when ninety-six Harley Street will be looking dingy and dirty, and dull, and shut up. Is Helstone a village, or a town, in the first place?' 'Oh, only a hamlet; I don't think I could call it a village at all. There is the church and a few houses near it on the green--cottages, rather--with roses growing all over them.' 'And flowering all the year round, especially at Christmas--make your picture complete,' said he. 'No,' replied Margaret, somewhat annoyed, 'I am not making a picture. Iam trying to describe Helstone as it really is. You should not have said that.' 'I am penitent,' he answered. 'Only it really sounded like a village in a tale rather than in real life.' 'And so it is,' replied Margaret, eagerly. 'All the other places in England that I have seen seem so hard and prosaic-looking, after the New Forest.