One day she had been working later than usual. The accountant had
shown signs of approaching the end of his task sooner than they had
expected. Murray was waiting, as was his custom, for her to finish
before he left.

There was no sound in the almost deserted office building save the
banging of a door echoing now and then, or an insistent ring of the
elevator bell as an anxious office boy or stenographer sought to
escape after an extra period of work.

Murray stood looking at her admiringly as she deftly shoved the pins
into her hat. Then he held her coat, which brought them close
together.

"It will soon be time for the final scene," he remarked. His manner
was different as he looked down at her. "We must succeed,
Constance," he went on slowly. "Of course, after it is over, it will
be impossible for me to remain here with this company. I have been
looking around. I must--we must clear ourselves. I already have an
offer to go with another company, much better than this position in
every way--honest, square, with no dirty work, such as I have had
here."

It was a moment that Constance had foreseen, without planning what
she would do. She moved to the door as if to go.

"Take dinner with me to-night at the Riverside," he went on,
mentioning the name of a beautifully situated inn uptown overlooking
the lights of the Hudson and thronged by gay parties of pleasure
seekers.