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.”
This while the elevator rose, stopping at each floor to discharge passengers.
At the fifth floor Eveley passed out with a final smile and a light friendly touch of her hand on Angelo’s arm.
This was the beginning of their strange friendship, which ripened rapidly. Her memory of that night in the Service League with the Irish-American Club was very hazy and dim. Except for the tangible presence and person of Angelo, she might easily have believed it was all a dream.