The Ambassador lifted his eyes and bowed to Armitage, as he bowed to a great many young men whose names he never remembered; but, oddly enough, the Baron paused, stared after Armitage for a moment, then shook his head and walked on with knit brows.
Armitage had lifted his hat and passed out, tapping his leg with his crop.
He walked toward the private houses that lay scattered over the valley and along the gradual slope of the hills as though carelessly flung from a dice box.

Many of the places were handsome estates, with imposing houses set amid beautiful gardens.

Half a mile from the hotel he stopped a passing negro to ask who owned a large house that stood well back from the road.

The man answered; he seemed anxious to impart further information, and Armitage availed himself of the opportunity.
"How near is Judge Claiborne's place ?" he asked.
The man pointed.

It was the next house, on the right-hand side; and Armitage smiled to himself and strolled on.
He looked down in a moment upon a pretty estate, distinguished by its formal garden, but with the broad acres of a practical farm stretching far out into the valley.