"I could not buy Colonel Carlyle, mother, though I wanted him very much. He is the wealthiest man I know of anywhere."
"You do not need to marry for wealth, my daughter; we have enough of our own."
Felise did not answer. She was absorbed in thought. Nothing Mrs. Arnold could say made the least impression on her mind.
She was wedded to one idea, and as the weeks and months rolled by it only took a firmer hold on her feelings.
[CHAPTER XXIII.]
"Madam Carlyle, monsieur, your husband, awaits you in the salon."
The tall, beautiful blonde, practicing a difficult sonata at the piano, pauses a moment and suffers her white hands to rest idly on the keys.
"Colonel Carlyle, did you say, madam?" she inquires calmly.