Report books

The
door was open and George heard her distinctly.
"Isabel does? Isabel!" she exclaimed, her tone high and shrewish.
"You needn't tell me anything about Isabel Minafer, I guess, my dear
old Frank Bronson! I know her a little better than you do, don't you
think?"
George heard the voice of Mr. Bronson replying--a voice familiar to
him as that of his grandfather's attorney-in-chief and chief intimate
as well. He was a contemporary of the Major's, being over seventy,
and they had been through three years of the War in the same regiment.
Amelia addressed him now, with an effect of angry mockery, as "my dear
old Frank Bronson"; but that (without the mockery) was how the
Amberson family almost always spoke of him: "dear old Frank Bronson."
He was a hale, thin old man, six feet three inches tall, and without a
stoop.
"I doubt your knowing Isabel," he said stiffly. "You speak of her as
you do because she sides with her brother George, instead of with you
and Sydney."
"Pooh!" Aunt Amelia was evidently in a passion.


Pages:
171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195