in town."

"But you see how she treats them, all alike; looks down on them all,
even while she's pleasant to them; and doesn't lead any one of them on
a step further than the rest."

"Ay, but in time--she's eighteen now, you know."

"Why, did you ever try to imagine her regarding any one of them as a
husband; as a companion to live with day after day, and to agree with,
and look up to, and yield to, as a wife does? Just fancy Margaret
accommodating herself to the everlasting company of Phil Van
Cortlandt, or Jack Cruger, or Bob Livingstone, or Harry Colden, or
Fred Philipse, or Billy Skinner, or any of them."

"I know," said I; "but many a girl has taken a man that other men
couldn't see anything in."

"Ay, the women have a way of their own of judging men; or perhaps they
make the best of what they can get. But you may depend on't, Margaret
has too clear a sight, and too bright a mind, and thinks too well of
herself, to mate with an uncouth cub, or a stupid dolt, or a girlish
fop, or any of these that hang about her."

'Twas not Phil's way to speak ill of people, but when one considered
men in comparison with Margaret, they looked indeed very crude and
unworthy.

"You know," he added, "how soon she tires of any one's society."