the dim entrance, into
the streets. It was two in the morning, and the narrow canons were
emptied of life, save the shadowy fleeting shape of some night prowler,
some creature of the underworld. The air was a trifle less cold, and a
fine hard snow was sifting down--crunched underfoot--a bitter, tiny,
stinging snow--hard and innumerable.

Cavernous and gloomy seemed the street, as they trudged west, arm in
arm. Myra had never been so stirred in her life; she felt as if things
ugly and dangerous had been released in her heart; a flame seemed raging
in her breast. And then as they went on, Joe found vent in hard words.

"And such things go on in this city--in this high civilization--and this
is a part of life--and then they wonder why we are so unreasonable. It
goes on, and they shut their eyes to it. The newspapers and magazines
hush it up. No, no, don't give this to the readers, they want something
pleasant, something optimistic! Suppress it! Don't let the light of
publicity smite it and clear it up! Let it go on! Let the secret sore
fester. It smells bad, it looks bad. Keep the surgeon away. We might
lose subscribers, we might be accused of muck-raking. But I tell you,"
his voice rose, "this world will never be much better until we face the
worst of it! Oh," he gave a heavy groan, "Myra! Myra! I wonder if I ever
will be happy again!"

Myra spoke from her heart.

"You're overworked, Joe; you're unstrung. Perhaps you see this too
big--out of perspective!"

He spoke with intense bitterness.

"It's all my fault. It's all my fault. If I hadn't been so sleepy I'd
have sent for a lawyer. I thought, of course, he'd be there!"

Myra spoke eagerly:

"That's just it, Joe. Oh, won't you take a rest? Won't you go away
awhile? Just for your work's sake."

He mused sadly:

"Mother keeps saying the same thing."

"She's right!" cried Myra. "Joe, you're killing yourself. How can you
really serve the strike if you're in this condition?"

He spoke more quietly.

"They need me, Myra. Do you think I'm worse off than Rhona?"

Myra could not answer this. It is a curious fact that some of the
terrible moments of life are afterward treasured as the great moments.
Looked back upon, they are seen to be the vital step forward, the
readjustment and growth of character, and not for anything would any
real man or woman miss them. Afterward Myra discovered that this night
had been one of the master nights of her life, and when she re