In his position opportunity for taking his evenings out was excellent.  He was a most faithful worker in general, and a man who commanded the confidence of his employers in so far as the distribution of his time was concerned.  He could take such hours off as he chose, for it was well known that he fulfilled his managerial duties successfully, whatever time he might take.  His grace, tact, and ornate appearance gave the place an air which was most essential, while at the same time his long experience made him a most excellent judge of its stock necessities.  Bartenders and assistants might come and go, singly or in groups, but, so long as he was present, the host of old-time customers would barely notice the change.  He gave the place the atmosphere to which they were used.  Consequently, he arranged his hours very much to suit himself, taking now an afternoon, now an evening, but invariably returning between eleven and twelve to witness the last hour or two of the day’s business and look after the closing details.

“You see that things are safe and all the employees are out when you go home, George,” Moy had once remarked to him, and he never once, in all the period of his long service, neglected to do this.  Neither of the owners had for years been in the resort after five in the afternoon, and yet their manager as faithfully fulfilled this request as if they had been there regularly to observe.

On this Friday afternoon, scarcely two days after his previous visit, he made up his mind to see Carrie.  He could not stay away longer.

“Evans,” he said, addressing the head barkeeper, “if any one calls, I will be back between four and five.”

He hurried to Madison Street and boarded a horse-car, which carried him to Ogden Place in half an hour.

Carrie had thought of going for a walk, and had put on a light gray woolen dress with a jaunty double-breasted jacket.  She had out her hat and gloves, and was fastening a white lace tie about her throat when the housemaid brought up the information that Mr. Hurstwood wished to see her.

She started slightly at the announcement, but told the girl to say that she would come down in a moment, and proceeded to hasten her dressing.

Carrie could not have told herself at this moment whether she was glad or sorry that the impressive manager was awaiting her presence.  She was slightly flurried and tingling in the cheeks, but it was more nervousness than either fear or favor.  She did not try to conjecture what the drift of the conversation would be.  She only felt that she must be careful, and that Hurstwood had an indefinable fascination for her.  Then she gave her tie its last touch with her fingers and went below.

The deep-feeling manager was himself a little strained in the nerves by the thorough consciousness of his mission.  He felt that he must make a strong play on this occasion, but now that the hour was come, and he heard Carrie’s feet upon the stair, his nerve failed him.  He sank a little in determination, for he was not so sure, after all, what her opinion might be.