a plainer case of a person's fault making them pay for having it! She
goes about, overseeing the packing and praising George and pretending
to be perfectly cheerful about what he's making her do and about the
dreadful things he's done. She pretends he did such a fine thing--so
manly and protective--going to Mrs. Johnson. And so heroic--doing what
his 'principles' made him--even though he knew what it would cost him
with you! And all the while it's almost killing her--what he said to
your father! She's always been lofty enough, so to speak, and had the
greatest idea of the Ambersons being superior to the rest of the world,
and all that, but rudeness, or anything like a 'scene,' or any bad
manners--they always just made her sick! But she could never see what
George's manners were--oh, it's been a terrible adulation!... It's going
to be a task for me, living in that big house, all alone: you must come
and see me--I mean after they've gone, of course. I'll go crazy if I
don't see something of people. I'm sure you'll come as often as you can.
I know you too well to think you'll be sensitive about coming there, or
being reminded of George. Thank heaven you're too well-balanced," Miss
Fanny concluded, with a profound fervour, "you're too well-balanced to
let anything affect you deeply about that--that monkey!"

The four photographs and the painted Florentine box went to their
cremation within the same hour that Miss Fanny spoke; and a little later
Lucy called her father in, as he passed her door, and pointed to the
blackened area on the underside of the mantelpiece, and to the burnt
heap upon the coal, where some metallic shapes still retained outline.
She flung her arms about his neck in passionate sympathy, telling
him that she knew what had happened to him; and presently he began to
comfort her and managed an embarrassed laugh.

"Well, well--" he said. "I was too old for such foolishness to be
getting into my head, anyhow."

"No, no!" she sobbed. "And if you knew how I despise myself for--for
ever having thought one instant about--oh, Miss Fanny called him the
right name: that monkey! He is!"

"There, I think I agree with you," Eugene said grimly, and in his eyes
there was a steady light of anger that was to last. "Yes, I think I
agree with you about that!"

"There's only one thing to do with such a person," she said vehemently.
"That's to put him out of our thoughts forever--forever!"

And yet, the next day, at six