The Magnificent Ambersons Booth Tarkington (reading like a writer txt) đ
- Author: Booth Tarkington
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âPardon fâ keepâ wait,â he muttered, as she rose brightly to meet him; and she seemed pleased that he came at allâ âbut George was used to girlsâ 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 reasonâ âeven to himselfâ âfor 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.
âGene Morgan!â this person exclaimed, rising with great heartiness. âIâd heard you were in townâ âI donât believe you know me!â
âYes, I do, Fred Kinney!â Mr. Morgan returned with equal friendliness. âYour real faceâ âthe one I used to knowâ âitâs just underneath the one youâre masquerading in tonight. You ought to have changed it more if you wanted a disguise.â
âTwenty years!â said Mr. Kinney. âIt makes some difference in faces, but more in behaviour!â
âIt does so!â his friend agreed with explosive emphasis. âMy own behaviour began to be different about that long agoâ âquite suddenly.â
âI remember,â said Mr. Kinney sympathetically. âWell, lifeâs odd enough as we look back.â
âProbably itâs going to be odder stillâ âif we could look forward.â
âProbably.â
They sat and smoked.
âHowever,â Mr. Morgan remarked presently, âI still dance like an Indian. Donât you?â
âNo. I leave that to my boy Fred. He does the dancing for the family.â
âI suppose heâs upstairs hard at it?â
âNo, heâs not here.â Mr. Kinney glanced toward the open door and lowered his voice. âHe wouldnât come. It seems that a couple of years or so ago he had a row with young Georgie Minafer. Fred was president of a literary club they had, and he said this young Georgie got himself elected instead, in an overbearing sort of way. Fredâs redheaded, you knowâ âI suppose you remember his mother? You were at the weddingâ ââ
âI remember the wedding,â said Mr. Morgan. âAnd I remember your bachelor dinnerâ âmost of it, that is.â
âWell, my boy Fredâs as redheaded now,â Mr. Kinney went on, âas his mother was then, and heâs very bitter about his row with Georgie Minafer. He says heâd rather burn his foot off than set it inside any Amberson house or any place else where young Georgie is. Fact is, the boy seemed to have so much feeling over it I had my doubts about coming myself, but my wife said it was all nonsense; we mustnât humour Fred in a grudge over such a little thing, and while she despised that Georgie Minafer, herself, as much as anyone else did, she wasnât going to miss a big Amberson show just on account of a boysâ rumpus, and so on and so on; and so we came.â
âDo people dislike young Minafer generally?â
âI donât know about âgenerally.â I guess he gets plenty of toadying; but thereâs certainly a lot of people that are glad to express their opinions about him.â
âWhatâs the matter with him?â
âToo much Amberson, I suppose, for one thing. And for another, his mother just fell down and worshipped him from the day he was born. Thatâs what beats me! I donât have to tell you what Isabel Amberson is, Eugene Morgan. Sheâs got a touch of the Amberson high stuff about her, but you canât get anybody that ever knew her to deny that sheâs just about the finest woman in the world.â
âNo,â said Eugene Morgan. âYou canât get anybody to deny that.â
âThen I canât see how she doesnât see the truth about that boy. He thinks heâs a little tin god on wheelsâ âand honestly, it makes some people weak and sick just to think about him! Yet that high-spirited, intelligent woman, Isabel Amberson, actually sits and worships him! You can hear it in her voice when she speaks to him or speaks of him. You can see it in her eyes when she looks at him. My Lord! What does she see when she looks at him?â
Morganâs odd expression of genial apprehension deepened whimsically, though it denoted no actual apprehension whatever, and cleared away from his face altogether when he smiled; he became surprisingly winning and persuasive when he smiled. He smiled now, after a moment, at this question of his old friend. âShe sees something that we donât see,â he said.
âWhat does she see?â
âAn angel.â
Kinney laughed aloud. âWell, if she sees an angel when she looks at Georgie Minafer, sheâs a funnier woman than I thought she was!â
âPerhaps she is,â said Morgan. âBut thatâs what she sees.â
âMy Lord! Itâs easy to see youâve only known him an hour or so. In that time have you looked at Georgie and seen an angel?â
âNo. All I saw was a remarkably good-looking fool-boy with the pride of Satan and a set of nice new drawing-room manners that he probably couldnât use more than half an hour at a time without busting.â
âThen whatâ ââ
âMothers are right,â said Morgan. âDo you think this young George is the same sort of creature when heâs with his mother that he is when heâs bulldozing your boy Fred? Mothers see the angel in us because the angel is there. If itâs shown to the mother, the son has got an angel to show, hasnât he? When a son cuts somebodyâs throat the mother only sees itâs possible for a misguided angel to act like a devilâ âand sheâs entirely right about that!â
Kinney laughed, and put his hand on his friendâs shoulder. âI remember what a fellow you always were to argue,â he said. âYou mean Georgie Minafer is as much of an angel as any murderer
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