“But I tell you there's no need any more,” said he. “Don't you understand? This is a paying fruit ranch, with land rented to advantage, and a competent manager right there running it. It's simply changed owners. 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. So do I. Can't you see? Why should I have to give up anything?” “You do not have to,” he said patiently. “I cannot compel you to marry me. But now, when at last--after these awful years--I can really offer you a home--you refuse!” “I have not refused,” she said slowly. His voice lightened again. “Ah, dearest! And you will not! You will marry me?” “I will marry you, Ross!” “And when? When, dearest?” “As soon as you are ready.” “But--can you drop this at once?” “I shall not drop it.” Her voice was low, very low, but clear and steady. He rose to his feet with a muffled exclamation, and walked the length of the piazza and back. “Do you realize that you are saying no to me, Diantha?” “You are mistaken, dear. I have said that I will marry you whenever you choose. But it is you who are saying, 'I will not marry a woman with a business.'” “This is foolishness!” he said sharply. “No man--that is a man--would marry a woman and let her run a business.” “You are mistaken,” she answered. “One of the finest men I ever knew has asked me to marry him--and keep on with my work!” “Why didn't you take him up?” “Because I didn't love him.” She stopped, a sob in her voice, and he caught her in his arms again. It was late indeed when he went away, walking swiftly, with a black rebellion in his heart; and Diantha dragged herself to bed. She was stunned, deadened, exhausted; torn with a desire to run after him and give up--give up anything to hold his love. But something, partly reason and partly pride, kept saying within her: “I have not refused him; he has refused me!” CHAPTER XIII. ALL THIS.