"Marry?" Dreux smiled whimsically. "That lumber king had a daughter, but she was freckled."
"Felicite Delord isn't freckled."
Bernie said nothing for a moment, and then inquired quietly:
"What do you know about Felicite?"
"All there is to know, I believe. Enough, at any rate, to realize that you ought to marry her."
As Dreux made no answer, he inquired, "She is willing, of course?"
"Of course."
"Then why don't you do it?"
"The very fact that people—well, that I know I ought to, perhaps. Then, too, my situation. I have certain obligations which I must live up to."
"Don't be forever thinking of yourself. There are others to be considered."