.
The name was engraved in script, an American fashion at this time.

The woman's card had surprised him; but the name on it brought him up
in his chair--"Mrs. A. B. Farmingham." It was not a name that he knew
precisely; but he knew its genera, the family or group to which it
belonged. Mr. Jefferson removed titles of nobility in the American
republic, but his efforts did not eliminate caste zones. It only made
the lines of cleavage more pronounced. One knew these zones by the name
formation. Everybody knew "Alfa Baba" Farmingham, as the Sunday Press
was accustomed to translate his enigmatical initials. Some wonderful
Western bonanza was behind the man. Mrs. "Alfa Baba" Farmingham would
be, then, one of the persons that Hargrave's house was concerned to
reach. He looked again at the card. In the corner the engraved address,
"Point View, Newport," was marked out with a pencil and "The Ritz"
written over it.

He got his coat and hat and followed the steward out of the club. There
was a carriage at the curb. A footman was holding the door open, and a
woman, leaning over in the seat, was looking out. She was precisely what
Hargrave expected to see, one of those dominant, impatient, aggressive
women who force their way to the head of social affairs in America. She
shot a volley of questions at him the moment he was before the door.

"Are you Douglas Hargrave, the purchasing agent for Bartholdi & Banks?"

The man said that he was, and at her service, and so forth. But she did
not stop to listen to any reply.

"You look mighty young, but perhaps you know your business. At any rate,
it's the best I can do. Get in."

Hargrave got in, the footman closed the door, and the carriage turned
into Piccadilly Circus. The woman did not pay very much attention to
him. She made a laconic explanation, the sort of explanation one would
make to a shopkeeper.

"I want your opinion on some jewels," she said. "I have a lot to do--no
time to fool away. When I found that I could see the jewels to-night I
concluded to pick you up on my way down. I didn't find out about it in
time to let you know."

Hargrave told her that he would be very glad to give her the benefit of
his experience.

"Glad, nonsense!" she said. "I'll pay your fee. Do you know a jewel when
you see it?"

"I think I do, madam," he replied.

She moved with energy.

"It won't do to think," she said. "I have got to know. I don't buy
junk."

He tried to carry himself up