"It will depend upon the man she marries," said Parkington.
"And the fortune will be much less than George's. The bulk always goes to the heir, if he be of direct blood, the same as in England, though there is no entail."
"Who are Miss Marbury's suitors," asked Parkington, carelessly. "No one of the men, here, seems to be, and, yet, of course, she has them in plenty."
"She could have them in plenty, but she will not. Every young fellow in Annapolis would have been only too happy—but, nay. They can be as friendly as they please; the instant they would be more, she is up and away."
"The right man has not come," said Parkington.
"Possibly, not!—But where can you find a better man than Paca, or Constable, or Jennings, or any one of the young bloods you meet at the Coffee-house?"
"I do not know—no one knows—possibly, even she does not know. But she will know, when the right one comes—that is, the right one for the time. He may be the wrong one in six months—more's the pity.—Yet even she cannot foresee that."
"You are a bit cynical!" laughed Plater. "May be they are the ways of England, but they are not our ways."
"Not your ways, yet," Parkington amended.
"And, I trust, never will be. When a woman chooses a husband, with us, whether for love or policy—though, thank God! there is not much of the latter—she makes the best of it. And it is marvelous what you can do, if you settle yourself to it."