k top-floor hallway he
was awed, and almost afraid.

Then in the blackness, his eyes on the thread of light beneath the rear
door, he advanced, reached up his hand, and knocked.

There came, somehow surprising him, a definite, clear-edged voice:

"Come in!"

He opened the door, which swung just free of the narrow cot. Just
beyond, Sally Heffer was writing at a little table, and the globed gas
burned above her, lighting the thin gold of her sparse hair. She turned
her face to him quite casually, the same pallid, rounded face, the same
broad forehead and gray eyes, of remarkable clarity--eyes that were as
clear windows allowing one to peer in. And she was dressed in a white
shirtwaist and the same brown skirt, and over a hook, behind her, hung
the same brown coat. Yet Joe was shocked. This was not the Sally Heffer
of his dreams--but rather a refreshing, forceful, dynamic young woman,
brimming over with the joy of life. And even in that flash of
strangeness he sensed the fact that at the time he had met her she was
merely the voice of a vast insurgent spirit, merely the instrument of a
great event. This was the everyday Sally, a quite livable, lovable human
being, healthy, free in her actions, pulsing with the life about her.
The very words she used were of a different order.

And as she casually glanced around she began to stare, her eyes lit with
wonder, and she arose, exclaiming:

"Mr.--_Blaine_!"

At the sound of her voice the tension snapped within him; he felt common
and homely again; he felt comfortable and warm; and he smiled wearily.

"Yes," he said, "I'm here."

She came close to him, more and more incredulous, and the air became
electric.

"But what brings you here?"

"I live here--West Tenth."

"_Live_ here? Why?"

Her eyes seemed to search through his.

"You made me," he murmured.

She smiled strangely.

"_That night_?"

"Yes."

Impulsively her hand went out, and he clasped it ... her hand seemed
almost frozen. Tears of humility sprang to her eyes.

"I was high and mighty that night,... but I couldn't help it.... But
you ... do you realize what a wonderful thing you've done?"

He laughed awkwardly.

"Yes, here's what I've done"--he handed her a copy of _The
Nine-Tenths_--"and it's very wonderful."

She gave a strange, short laugh again--excitement, exultation--and held
the paper as if it were a living thing.

"This ... _The Nine-Tenths_ ... oh!... for the working people.... Let