a few
wisps of it! Life! Life itself--not our interpretation--is the great
outworking force!"

And then again.

"We see certain tendencies and believe they will advance unhindered, but
there may be other tendencies to counteract, change, even defeat these.
No future can be predicted! And yet I was so sure of the future--so sure
of what we are to build--that future which we keep modifying so
persistently the moment it hits To-day."

In short, he had reached his _social manhood_--which meant to him, not
dogma, but the willingness to arise every morning ready to reshape his
course, prepared for any adventure, receptive, open-minded, and all
willing to render his very life for what seemed good to do. Scientific
reverence this, the willingness to experiment, to try, to test, and
then, if the test failed, to grope for a new line of outlet, the
readiness to reverse all he believed in in the face of a new and
contradictory fact. He was a new Joe Blaine.

And so the spirit that sprang from those dead girls became a creative
power, a patient, living strength.

And so in the blaze of new morning, in the beginnings of a new life,
Joe and Myra leaned over the rail of the boat, coming back, coming back
to the ramparts and heights of the great World City. They saw full in
the glory of the morning sun those tiers on tiers of towers rising to
their lonely pinnacle. Beneath them harbor craft scurried about in the
bright waters; above them rose the Big Brothers of the city looking out
toward the sea. It seemed some vision builded of no human hands. It
seemed winged and uplifted toward the skies, an immensity of power and
beauty. It seemed to float on measureless waters, a magic metropolis,
setting sail for the Arabian Nights.

Tears came into Joe's eyes. He held Myra's hand fast.

"Are you glad to get back?"

"Yes, glad, Joe."

"No more peace, no more green earth, Myra."

"I know it, Joe."

"Even our honeymoon--that can't be repeated, can it?"

"No," she said, sadly, "I guess it cannot."

"And this means work, hardship, danger, injustice--all the troubles of
mankind."

She pressed his hand.

"Yet you're glad, Myra!"

"I am."

"Tell me why."

"Because," she mused, "it's the beginning of our real life together."

"How so _real_?"

Myra's eyes were suffused with tears.

"The common life--the life of people--the daily toil--the pangs and the
struggles. I'm hungry for it all!"

He could have kissed her for the w