"Splendidly!" the young wife replied, glad that the atmosphere was cleared
once more. "Oh, Gil, it's wonderful here--nothing but sky and the golden
desert! What a miracle place!"

"You like it here?" Jones asked, knowing that she did. She had told him so
every hour of her visit.

Lucia gave him a rapt look. "Like it, Gil? Um! I love it!" She clasped her
hands to her breast; and Jones thought she had never looked lovelier, more
desirable. How pink her cheeks were! Yet underneath her beauty there was a
wistful sadness. Anyone could see that she was not happy.

"You really love it?" Uncle Henry asked, as though he could not believe he
had heard what she said.

Lucia had forgotten his presence for a moment. Now she turned to him and
smiled. "Of course. Don't you?"

"It makes me sick!" was the unexpected reply.

Lucia was horrified; and she looked from Smith to Gilbert in utter
confusion. "Why, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"Beautiful!" Uncle Henry went on, repeating the word in derision. "What's
beautiful about it? That's what I'd like to know."

"The desert," Lucia answered.

"A lot of gol darn sand!" the invalid whined.