Your Uncle George
Amberson came to see him an hour ago and they shut themselves up in
the library, and your uncle looked as glum as papa. I'd be glad if
you'll tell me a funny story, George."
"Well, it may seem one to you," he said bitterly, "Just to begin with:
when you went away you didn't let me know; not even a word--not a
line--"
Her manner persisted in being inconsequent. "Why, no," she said. "I
just trotted off for some visits."
"Well, at least you might have--"
"Why, no," she said again briskly. "Don't you remember, George? We'd
had a grand quarrel, and didn't speak to each other all the way home
from a long, long drive! So, as we couldn't play together like good
children, of course it was plain that we oughtn't to play at all."
"Play!" he cried.
"Yes. What I mean is that we'd come to the point where it was time to
quit playing--well, what we were playing."
"At being lovers, you mean, don't you?"
"Something like that," she said lightly. "For us two, playing at
being lovers was just the same as playing at cross-purposes.
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