"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."
"Hush! Hush! I tell you I won't—I won't go! But—but if I do—you promise to hold my hand every minute, Norman?"
"And keep my arm around your waist, if you like."
Elena's cheeks flushed and her voice quivered with excitement as she paused in the doorway.
"I'll be ready in twenty minutes after dinner."