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And ten minutes later, George
Amberson, somewhat in the semblance of an angry person plunging out of
the Mansion, found a pale nephew waiting to accost him.
"I haven't time to talk, Georgie."
"Yes, you have. You'd better!"
"What's the matter, then?"
His namesake drew him away from the vicinity of the house. "I want to
tell you something I just heard Aunt Amelia say, in there."
"I don't want to hear it," said Amberson. "I've been hearing entirely
too much of what 'Aunt Amelia, says, lately."
"She says my mother's on your side about this division of the property
because you're Eugene Morgan's best friend."
"What in the name of heaven has that got to do with your mother's
being on my side?"
"She said--" George paused to swallow. "She said--" He faltered.
"You look sick," said his uncle; and laughed shortly. "If it's
because of anything Amelia's been saying, I don't blame you! What
else did she say?"
George swallowed again, as with nausea, but under his uncle's
encouragement he was able to be explicit.


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