I'm the owner now! There's two or three thousand a year to be made on it--has been made on it! There is a home for my people--a home for us! Oh, my beloved girl! My darling! My own sweetheart! Surely you won't refuse me now!" Diantha's head swam dizzily.
"Ross," she urged, "you don't understand! I've built up a good business here--a real successful business.

Mother is in it; father's to come down; there is a big patronage; it grows.

I can't give it up!" "Not for me?
Not when I can offer you a home at last?
Not when I show you that there is no longer any need of your earning money ?" he said hotly.
"But, dear--dear!" she protested.

"It isn't for the money; it is the work I want to do--it is my work! You are so happy now that you can do your work--at last! This is mine!" When he spoke again his voice was low and stern.
"Do you mean that you love--your work--better than you love me ?" "No! It isn't that! That's not fair!" cried the girl.

"Do you love your work better than you love me?
Of course not! You love both.