Take this very house she was living in.

Ten days ago she had decided on the spur of the moment--a decision suddenly crystallized by a weariness of charitable committees and the noise and heat of New York--to take a place in the country for the summer.

It was late in the renting season--even the ordinary difficulties of finding a suitable spot would have added some spice to the quest--but this ideal place had practically fallen into her lap, with no trouble or search at all.
Courtleigh Fleming, president of the Union Bank, who had built the house on a scale of comfortable magnificence--Courtleigh Fleming had died suddenly in the West when Miss Van Gorder was beginning her house hunting.

The day after his death her agent had called her up.

Richard Fleming, Courtleigh Fleming's nephew and heir, was anxious to rent the Fleming house at once.