There was just one unmarried daughter left--Polly, nineteen years old, and the most heartlessly charming young person it has ever been my misfortune to meet.

As is likely to be the case with the baby of a large family, Polly was thoroughly spoiled, but that fact did not in the least diminish her charm.
Report had it, at the time of my arrival, that after refusing every marriageable man in the county, she was now trying to make up her mind between Jim Mattison and Radnor.

Whether or not these statistics were exaggerated, I cannot say, but in any case the many other aspirants for her favor had tacitly dropped out of the running, and the race was clearly between the two.
It seemed to me, had I been Polly, that it would not take me long to decide.

Rad was as likable a young fellow as one would ever meet; he came from one of the best families in the county, with the prospect of inheriting at his father's death a very fair sized fortune.

It struck me that a girl would have to search a good while before discovering an equally desirable husband.