"A woman without a heart, Carl--a modern Minerva.

I have no wish to interfere with you, my son; I shall call the day happy that brings me your wife, but not Blanche Oleander--not that cold-blooded, bold-faced, overgrown grenadier." Madame hissed out the words between a set of spiteful, false teeth, and glared, as women do glare, upon the gray-eyed Blanche.

And Carl listened, and laughed sardonically.
"A woman without a heart.

So much the better, mother; the less heart the more head; and I like your clever, dashing women, who are big and buxom, and able to take care of themselves.

Don't forget, mother mine, I haven't proposed to the sparkling Blanche, and I don't think I shall--to-night.