A shadow darkened her face, but her voice remained even.
"I had been losing a lot of money through Mr. Benson's firm, and suddenly my intuition told me that he was purposely seeing to it that I did lose, and that he could, if he desired, help me to recoup." She dropped her eyes. "He had been annoying me with his attentions for some time; and I didn't put any despicable scheme past him. I went to his office, and told him quite plainly what I suspected. He replied that if I'd dine with him that night we could talk it over. I knew what his object was, but I was so desperate I decided to go anyway, hoping I might plead with him."
"And how did you happen to mention to Mr. Benson the exact time your little dinner party would terminate?"
She looked at Vance in astonishment, but answered unhesitatingly.
"He said something about—making a gay night of it; and then I told him—very emphatically—that if I went I would leave him sharply at midnight, as was my invariable rule on all parties. . . . You see," she added, "I study very hard at my singing, and going home at midnight, no matter what the occasion, is one of the sacrifices—or rather, restrictions—I impose on myself."
"Most commendable and most wise!" commented Vance. "Was this fact generally known among your acquaintances?"
"Oh yes. It even resulted in my being nicknamed Cinderella."
