"By George, Elena, if I'm honest with you, I'd have to say no. You are tall, stately, dignified, beautiful from the crown of your black hair to the tip of your dainty toe--the most stunning-looking woman I ever saw. I never think of you as a girl just out of school. You always remind me of a glorious royal figure in some old romance of the Middle Ages----" "Now I'm sure I love you, Norman--for the moment at least." "Then promise to go with me on a lark to-night," he suddenly cried. "A lark?" Elena's gray-blue eyes danced beneath their black lashes. "Yes, a real lark, daring, adventurous, dangerous, audacious." "What is it--what is it? Tell me quick." The girl seized Norman's arm with eager, childish glee. "Let's go to that Socialist meeting and beard the lion in his den." Elena drew back. "No. Guardie will be furious!" "Ah, who's afraid? Guardie be hanged!" "Go by yourself." "No, you've got to go with me." "I won't do it. You just want to worry your father and then hide behind my skirts." "You can see yourself that's the easiest way to manage it. If he has a fit, I can just say that your curiosity was excited and I had to go with you." "But it's not excited." "For the purposes of the lark I tell you that it is excited. There's too much patriotism in the air. It's giving me nervous prostration. I want something to brace me up. I think those fellows can give me some good points to tease the Governor with." "Tease the Governor! You flatter yourself, Norman. He doesn't pay any more attention to your talk than he would to the bark of a six weeks' old puppy." "That's what riles me. The Governor's so cocksure of himself. I don't know how to answer him, but I know he's wrong. The fury with which he hates the Socialists rouses my curiosity. I've always found that the good things in life are forbidden. All respectable people are positively forbidden to attend a Socialist--traitors'--meeting. For that reason let's go." "No." "Ah, come on. Don't be a chump. Be a sport!" "I'd like the lark, but I won't hurt Guardie's feelings; so that's the end of it." "Going to be a surprise, they say." "What kind of a surprise?" "Going to spring a big sensation." Elena's eyes began to dance again. "The woman called the Scarlet Nun is going to speak, and Herman Wolf, the famous 'blond beast' of Socialism, will preside. They are mates--affinities." "Married?" "God knows. A hundred weird stories about them circulate in the under-world." "I won't go! Don't you say another word!" Elena snapped. Norman was silent. "Are you sure it would be perfectly safe, Norman?" the girl softly asked. "Perfectly. I know every inch of that quarter of the city--went there a hundred times the year I was a reporter." "I won't go!" "It's the wickedest street in town. They say it's the worst block in America." "I don't want to see it." Elena laughed. "And the hall is a famous red-light dancing dive in the heart of Hell's Half Acre."