The Magnificent Ambersons

he lovely companion whom he had just made his confidant, gazed out at the dancers with an expression in which there was both sternness and a contempt for the squalid liv

hing about it before we came, but I see he didn't say half enough!" George superbly took this all for tribute. "Did your father say he knew the family before he left here?" "Yes. I believe he was particularly a friend of your Uncle George; and he didn't say so, but I imagine he must have known your mother very well, too. He wasn't an inventor then; he was a young lawyer. The town was smaller in those days, and I believe he was quite well known." "I dare say. I've no doubt the family are all very glad to see him back, especially if they used to have him at the house a good deal, as he told you." "I don't think he meant to boast of it," she said: "He spoke of it quite calmly." George stared at her for a moment in perplexity, then perceiving that her intention was satirical, "Girls really ought to go to a man's college," he said-"just a month or two, anyhow; It'd take some of the freshness out of 'em!" "I can't believe it," she retorted, as her partner for the next dance arrived. "It would only make them a little politer on the surface- they'd be really just as awful as ever, after you got to know them a few minutes." "What do you mean: 'after you got to know them a-'" She was departing to the dance. "Janie and Mary Sharon told me all about what sort of a little boy you were," she said, over her shoulder. "You must think it out!" She took wing away on the breeze of the waltz, and George, having stared gloomily after her for a few moments, postponed filling an engagement, and strolled round the fluctuating outskirts of the dance to where his uncle, George Amberson, stood smilingly watching, under one of the rose-vine arches at the entrance to the room. "Hello, young namesake," said the uncle. "Why lingers the laggard heel of the dancer? Haven't you got a partner?" "She's sitting around waiting for me somewhere," said George. "See here: Who is this fellow Morgan that Aunt Fanny Minafer was dancing with a while?" Amberson laughed. "He's a man with a pretty daughter, Georgie. Me-seemed you've been spending the evening noticing something of that sort-or do I err?" "Never mind! What sort is he?" "I think we'll have to give him a character, Georgie. He's an old friend; used to practice law here-perhaps he had more debts than cases, but he paid 'em all up before he left town. Your question is purely mercenary, I take it: you want to know his true worth before proceeding further with the daughter. I cannot inform you, though I notice signs of considerable prosperity in that becoming dress of hers. However, you never can tell, it is an age when every sacrifice is made for the young, and how your own poor mother managed to provide those genuine pearl studs for you out of her allowance from father, I can't-" "Oh, dry up!" said the nephew. "I understand this Morgan-" "Mr. Eugene Morgan," his uncle suggested. "Politeness requires that the young should-" "I guess the 'young' didn't know much about politeness in your day," George interrupted. "I understand that Mr. Eugene Morgan used to be a great friend of the family." "Oh, the Minafers?" the uncle inquired, with apparent innocence. "No, I seem to recall that he and your father were not-" "I mean the Ambersons," George said impatiently. "I understand he was a good deal around the house here." "What is your objection to that, George?" "What do you mean: my objection?" "You seemed to speak with a certain crossness." "Well," said George, "I meant he seems to feel awfully at home here. The way he was dancing with Aunt Fanny-" Amberson laughed. "I'm afraid your Aunt Fanny's heart was stirred by ancient recollections, Georgie." "You mean she used to be silly about him?" "She wasn't considered singular," said the uncle "He was-he was popular. Could you bear a question?" "What do you mean: could I bear-" "I only wanted to ask: Do you take this same passionate interest in the parents of every girl you dance with? Perhaps it's a new fashion we old bachelors ought to take up. Is it the thing this year to-" "Oh, go on!" said George, moving away. "I only wanted to know-" He left the sentence unfinished, and crossed the room to where a girl sat waiting for his nobility to find time to fulfil his contract with her for this dance. "Pardon f' keep' wait," he muttered, as she rose brightly to meet him; and she seemed pleased that he came at all-but George was used to girls' looking radiant when he danced with them, and she had little effect upon him. He danced with her perfunctorily, thinking the while of Mr. Eugene Morgan and his daughter. Strangely enough, his thoughts dwelt more upon the father than the daughter, though George could not possibly have given a reason-even to himself-for this disturbing preponderance. By a coincidence, though not an odd one, the thoughts and conversation of Mr. Eugene Morgan at this very time were concerned with George Amberson Minafer, rather casually, it is true. Mr. Morgan had retired to a room set apart for smoking, on the second floor, and had found a grizzled gentleman lounging in solitary possession. "'Gene Morgan!" this person exclaimed, rising with great heartiness. "I'd heard you were in town-I don't believe you know me!" "Yes, I do, Fred Kinney!" Mr. Morgan returned with equal friendliness. "Your real face-the one I used to know-it's just underneath the one you're masquerading in to-night. You ought to have changed it more if you wanted a disguise." "Twenty years!" said Mr. Kinney. "It makes some difference in faces, but more in behaviour!" "It does sot" his friend agreed with explosive emphasis. "My own behaviour began to be different about that long ago-quite suddenly." "I remember," said Mr. Kinney sympathetically. "Well, life's odd enough as we look back." "Probably it's going to be odder still-if we could look forward." "Probably." They sat and smoked. "