Sarah turned her face toward her husband. Her gray eyes were filled with tears, and her hands were clenched in an effort to control her feelings. "That's just the trouble!" she cried, her voice rising into a wail. "You've given me everything that money buys, and I don't want anything except the things that love buys. I want to go back to Millville! I want to live in our own little cottage! I'm sick of this sort of life! I never was made to be a rich man's wife, and it's killing me! It's killing me! Oh! I know I'm ungrateful, Dave, but I can't help it!" Her voice broke in a storm of sobs. She covered her face with the bedclothes and shrank away from her husband's hand. A look of profound relief lighted David Maynor's face. "Is that all?" he exclaimed. "And here I've been putting up with everything because I thought you were pleased! My gracious, Sarah! You don't hate this life any more than I do." Sarah lifted her head from the pillow and searched his face with her tear-reddened eyes. "Dave Maynor," she said solemnly, "are you just saying that to please me, or is it the truth?" "I'd go back to Millville to-morrow, if I could," said David, with an emphasis that swept away all doubt of his sincerity. Sarah fell back on her pillows with a long, sobbing breath of relief. Her tears flowed again, but they were tears of happiness, and an ecstatic smile shone through them. "Oh! Then it's all right, Dave! It's all right!" She reached for David's hand and laid it against her wet cheek. "You see, it was just the thought that you and I didn't think alike--that was what I couldn't stand. But if you feel as I do, why, I can stand anything. You know what I mean, don't you, Dave?" "Of course I know what you mean, honey," said David soothingly, as if he were talking to a child in distress. "I've felt exactly the same way, ever since we left our little Millville home and come to this two-story brick house. I thought you liked it,--women always like fine houses and fine furniture,--and I wanted to please you, but I hated it from the start; and we'd always thought the same about everything, and to have this big pile of brick and mortar comin' between us at our time of life--" At this point words failed him. He was not in the habit of analyzing and describing his own feelings, but Sarah's eyes met his, and a look of perfect understanding passed between husband and wife. They had been living a divided life, but now they were one. "It was my fault," said Sarah. "I ought to have stopped you in the beginning; but I knew you were trying to please me, and I didn't want to seem ungrateful--"