The Magnificent Ambersons · Chapter 6 (2/2)

“Mothers are right,” said Morgan. “Do you think this young George is the same sort of creature when he’s with his mother that he is when he’s bulldozing your boy Fred? Mothers see the angel in us because the angel is there. If it’s shown to the mother, the son has got an angel to show, hasn’t he? When a son cuts somebody’s throat the mother only sees it’s possible for a misguided angel to act like a devil⁠—and she’s entirely right about that!”

Kinney laughed, and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I remember what a fellow you always were to argue,” he said. “You mean Georgie Minafer is as much of an angel as any murderer is, and that Georgie’s mother is always right.”

“I’m afraid she always has been,” Morgan said lightly.

The friendly hand remained upon his shoulder. “She was wrong once, old fellow. At least, so it seemed to me.”

“No,” said Morgan, a little awkwardly. “No⁠—”

Kinney relieved the slight embarrassment that had come upon both of them: he laughed again. “Wait till you know young Georgie a little better,” he said. “Something tells me you’re going to change your mind about his having an angel to show, if you see anything of him!”

“You mean beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, and the angel is all in the eye of the mother. If you were a painter, Fred, you’d paint mothers with angels’ eyes holding imps in their laps. Me, I’ll stick to the Old Masters and the cherubs.”

Mr. Kinney looked at him musingly. “Somebody’s eyes must have been pretty angelic,” he said, “if they’ve been persuading you that Georgie Minnafer is a cherub!”

“They are,” said Morgan heartily. “They’re more angelic than ever.” And as a new flourish of music sounded overhead he threw away his cigarette, and jumped up briskly. “Goodbye, I’ve got this dance with her.”

“With whom?”

“With Isabel!”

The grizzled Mr. Kinney affected to rub his eyes. “It startles me, your jumping up like that to go and dance with Isabel Amberson! Twenty years seem to have passed⁠—but have they? Tell me, have you danced with poor old Fanny, too, this evening?”

“Twice!”

“My Lord!” Kinney groaned, half in earnest. “Old times starting all over again! My Lord!”

“Old times?” Morgan laughed gaily from the doorway. “Not a bit! There aren’t any old times. When times are gone they’re not old, they’re dead! There aren’t any times but new times!”

And he vanished in such a manner that he seemed already to have begun dancing.