Then she said good night again, and went away. And Angelo swaggered back to his companions. "Gee, ain't she a beaut?" he gloated. "All the swells in our building is nuts on that dame. But she gives 'em all the go-by." Then the Irish-American League, without the assimilator, went into a private session with cigarettes and near-beer in a small dingy room far down on Fifth Street--a session that lasted far into the night. But Eveley Ainsworth did not know that. She was sitting in the dark beside her window, staring out at the lights that circled the bay. But she did not see them. "Assimilate the foreign element," she whispered in a frightened voice. "I am afraid we can't. It is too late. They got started first--and they are so shrewd. But we've got to do something, and quickly, or--they will assimilate us, beyond a doubt. And weren't they right about it, after all? Isn't it patriotism and loyalty for them to go out to foreign countries to pick up the finest and best of our civilization and take it back to enrich their native land? It is almost--blasphemous--to teach them a new patriotism to a new country. And yet we have to do it, to make our country safe for us. But who has brains enough and heart enough to do it? Oh, dear! And they do not call it duty that brings them here to take what we can give them--they call it love--not love of us and of America, but love of the little Wops and the little Greasers and the little Polaks in their own home-land. Oh, dear, such a frightful mess we have got ourselves into. And what a dunce I was to go to that silly meeting and get myself mixed up in it." CHAPTER V HER INHERITANCE The worries of the night never lived over into the sunny day with Eveley, and when she arose the next morning and saw the amethyst mist lifting into sunshine, when she heard the sweet ecstatic chirping of little Mrs. Bride beneath, she smiled contentedly. The world was still beautiful, and love remained upon its throne. She started a little early for her work as she was curious to see Angelo in the broad light of day. It seemed so unbelievable that those bright eyes and smiling lips had been in the elevator with her many times a week for many months, and that she had never even seen them. So on the morning after her initiation into the intricacies of Americanization, she beamed upon him with almost sisterly affection. "Good morning, Angelo. Isn't this a wonderful day? Whose secrets have you ferreted out in the night while I was asleep?" Angelo flushed with pleasure, and shoved some earlier passengers back into the car to make room for her beside him. "I thought you'd be too sick to come this morning," he said, with his wide smile that displayed two rows of white and even teeth. "I thought it would take you twenty-four hours to get over us." "Oh, not a bit of it," she laughed. "And I am equally glad to see that you are recovering from your attack of me."