Chapter 23
"I've 'done it'?" George cried. "What do you mean: I've done it? And what have I done?" Amberson had collapsed into an easy chair beside his dressing-table, the white evening tie he had been about to put on dangling from his hand, which had fallen limply on the arm of the chair. The tie dropped to the floor before he replied; and the hand that had held it was lifted to stroke his graying hair reflectively. "By Jove!" he muttered. "That is too bad!" George folded his arms bitterly. "Will you kindly answer my question? What have I done that wasn't honourable and right? Do you think these riffraff can go about bandying my mother's name--" "They can now," said Amberson. "I don't know if they could before, but they certainly can now!" "What do you mean by that?" His uncle sighed profoundly
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