She was not a woman carved out of a block of stone.

There was a sweetness about this association that carried her along as if in a dream.

She was actually falling in love with him.
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.