"Of course I'm a stranger here, and if people have done anything wrong or have something unpleasant about them, I wouldn't have any way of knowing it, just at first.

If poor Mr.
Kinney--" "I prefer not to discuss it," said George curtly.

"He's an enemy of mine." "Why ?" "I prefer not to discuss it." "Well, but--" "I prefer not to discuss it!" "Very well." She began to hum the air of the song which Mr.George Amberson was now discoursing, "O moon of my delight that knows no wane"-- and there was no further conversation on the back seat.
They had entered Amberson Addition, and the moon of Mr.Amberson's delight was overlaid by a slender Gothic filagree; the branches that sprang from the shade trees lining the street.

Through the windows of many of the houses rosy lights were flickering; and silver tinsel and evergreen wreaths and brilliant little glass globes of silver and wine colour could be seen, and glimpses were caught of Christmas trees, with people decking them by firelight--reminders that this was Christmas Eve.
The ride-stealers had disappeared from the highway, though now and then, over the gasping and howling of the horseless carriage, there came a shrill jeer from some young passer-by upon the sidewalk: "Mister, fer heaven's sake go an' git a hoss! Git a hoss! Git a hoss!" The contrivance stopped with a heart-shaking jerk before Isabel's house.
The gentlemen jumped down, helping Isabel and Fanny to descend; there were friendly leavetakings--and one that was not precisely friendly.
"It's 'au revoir,' till to-night, isn't it ?" Lucy asked, laughing.
"Good afternoon!" said George, and he did not wait, as his relatives did, to see the old sewing machine start briskly down the street, toward the Sharons'; its lighter load consisting now of only Mr.Morgan and his daughter.

George went into the house at once.
He found his father reading the evening paper in the library.