"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 words. "We'll do, Myra," he cried, "we'll do. Do you know what I see this morning?" "What?" "A new city! My old city, but all new." "It's you that is new, Joe." "And that's why I see the new city--a vision I shall see until some larger vision replaces it. Shall I tell you about it?" "Tell me." "It is the city of five million comrades. They toil all day with one another; they create all of beauty and use that men may need; they exchange these things with each other; they go home at night to gardens and simple houses, they find happy women there and sunburnt, laughing children. Their evenings are given over to the best play--play with others, play with masses, or play at home. They have time for study, time for art, yet time for one another. Each loosens in himself and gives to the world his sublime possibilities. A city of toiling comrades, of sparkling homes, of wondrous art, and joyous festival. That is the city I see before me!" He paused. "And to the coming of that city I dedicate my life." She sighed. "It's too bright, too good for human nature." "Not for human nature," he whispered. "If only we are patient. If only we are content to add our one stone to its rising walls." She pressed his hand again. "Joe," she murmured, "what do you think you'll be doing a year from now?" "I don't know," he smiled. "Perhaps editing--perhaps working with a strike--perhaps something else. But whatever it is, it will be some new adventure--some new adventure!" So they entered that city hand in hand, the future all before them. And they found neither that City of the Future nor a City of Degradation, but a very human city full of very human people. THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Nine-Tenths, by James Oppenheim