"Tell her that I come from Mr. Swan of New York."
"She will see you," said the servant returning after a short absence.
Mark was ushered into the reception room, and in a few minutes a pleasant-looking woman of middle age entered. She seemed surprised when her glance rested upon Mark.
"Surely you are not Mr. Swan's messenger?" she said.
"Yes, madam."
"And you—have brought the pin?"
"Here it is," said Mark, producing it from his pocket.
Mrs. Loring eagerly opened the casket and uttered an exclamation of delight.
"It is beautiful—just what I wanted," she said.
"Mr. Swan said he thought he knew your taste."