Lord Arleigh had been so accustomed to think of Philippa as a child that he could with difficulty imagine the fact that she was now a lovely girl, and one of the wealthiest heiresses in London.

He felt some curiosity about her.

How would she greet him?
How would she receive him?
He wrote to her at once, asking permission to visit her, and he came away from that visit with his eyes a little dazzled, his brain somewhat dazed, but his heart untouched.

His fancy was somewhat disturbed by the haunting memory of dark, splendid eyes, lighted with fire and passion, and a bright, radiant face and scarlet lips--by a _melange_ of amber, lace, and perfume--but his heart was untouched.

She was beautiful beyond his fairest dreams of woman--he owned that to himself--but it was not the kind of beauty that he admired it was too vivid, too highly colored, too brilliant.