Here's another bit from The Custom of the Country.
Her gloom was not lightened by finding Ralph Marvell's card on the drawing-room table. She thought it unflattering and almost impolite of him to call without making an appointment: it seemed to show that he did not wish to continue their acquaintance. But as she tossed the card aside her mother said: "He was real sorry not to see you. Undine--he sat here nearly an hour."
Undine's attention was roused. "Sat here--all alone? Didn't you tell him I was out?"
"Yes--but he came up all the same. He asked for me."
"Asked for YOU?"
The social order seemed to be falling in ruins at Undine's feet. A visitor who asked for a girl's mother!--she stared at Mrs. Spragg with cold incredulity. "What makes you think he did?"
"Why, they told me so. I telephoned down that you were out, and they said he'd asked for me." Mrs. Spragg let the fact speak for itself--it was too much out of the range of her experience to admit of even a hypothetical explanation.
Undine shrugged her shoulders. "It was a mistake, of course. Why on earth did you let him come up?"
"I thought maybe he had a message for you, Undie."
This plea struck her daughter as not without weight. "Well, did he?" she asked, drawing out her hat-pins and tossing down her hat on the onyx table.
"Why, no--he just conversed. He was lovely to me, but I couldn't make out what he was after," Mrs. Spragg was obliged to own.
Her daughter looked at her with a kind of chill commiseration. "You never CAN," she murmured, turning away.