"What will become of that beautiful girl? She cannot hold out forever
against the universal custom. She will be led by her friends and pushed
by her mother, until she drops to the level of the rest and becomes a
romping flirt; she will go to parties with young Furrey, and to church
with young Snevel. I shall see her tramping the streets with one, and
waltzing all night with another, and sitting on the stairs with a
third. She is too pretty to be let alone, and her mother is against
her. She is young and the force of nature is strong, and women are born
for sacrifice--she will marry one of these young shrimps, and do her
duty in the sphere whereto she has been called."
At this thought so sharp a pang of disgust shot through him, that he
started with surprise.
"Oh, no, this is not jealousy; it is a protest against what is probable
in the name of the eternal fitness of things."
Nevertheless, he went on thinking very disagreeably about Mr. Furrey.
"How can a nice girl endure a fellow who pomatums his hair in that
fashion, and sounds his R's in that way, and talks about Theedore
Thommus and Cinsunnatta? Still, they do it, and Providence must be on
the side of that sort of men.
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