l
now, with embellishments. And she'll see to it that everybody who's
hinted anything about poor Isabel will know that you're on the warpath;
and that will put them on the defensive and make them vicious. The story
will grow as it spreads and--"

George unfolded his arms to strike his right fist into his left palm.
"But do you suppose I'm going to tolerate such things?" he shouted.
"What do you suppose I'll be doing?"

"Nothing helpful."

"Oh, you think so, do you?"

"You can do absolutely nothing," said Amberson. "Nothing of any use. The
more you do the more harm you'll do."

"You'll see! I'm going to stop this thing if I have to force my way into
every house on National Avenue and Amberson Boulevard!"

His uncle laughed rather sourly, but made no other comment.

"Well, what do you propose to do?" George demanded. "Do you propose to
sit there--"

"Yes."

"--and let this riffraff bandy my mother's good name back and forth
among them? Is that what you propose to do?"

"It's all I can do," Amberson returned. "It's all any of us can do now:
just sit still and hope that the thing may die down in time, in spite of
your stirring up that awful old woman."

George drew a long breath, then advanced and stood close before his
uncle. "Didn't you understand me when I told you that people are saying
my mother means to marry this man?"

"Yes, I understood you."

"You say that my going over there has made matters worse," George went
on. "How about it if such a--such an unspeakable marriage did take
place? Do you think that would make people believe they'd been wrong in
saying--you know what they say."

"No," said Amberson deliberately; "I don't believe it would. There'd be
more badness in the bad mouths and more silliness in the silly mouths, I
dare say. But it wouldn't hurt Isabel and Eugene, if they never heard
of it; and if they did hear of it, then they could take their choice
between placating gossip or living for their own happiness. If they have
decided to marry--"

George almost staggered. "Good God!" he gasped. "You speak of it
calmly!"

Amberson looked up at him inquiringly. "Why shouldn't they marry if they
want to?" he asked. "It's their own affair."

"Why shouldn't they?" George echoed. "Why shouldn't they?"

"Yes. Why shouldn't they? I don't see anything precisely monstrous about
two people getting married when they're both free and care about each
other. What's the matter with their marrying?"