“Yes, it’s plain enough!” George grunted.
“Yet it’s lovely; the gray-green roof and shutters give just enough colour, with the trees, for the long white walls. It seems to me the finest house I’ve seen in this part of the country.”
George was outraged by an enthusiasm so ignorant—not ten minutes ago they had passed the Amberson Mansion. “Is that a sample of your taste in architecture?” he asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Because it strikes me you better go somewhere and study the subject a little!”
Lucy looked puzzled. “What makes you have so much feeling about it? Have I offended you?”
“‘Offended’ nothing!” George returned brusquely. “Girls usually think they know it all as soon as they’ve learned to dance and dress and flirt a little. They never know anything about things like architecture, for instance. That house is about as bum a house as any house I ever saw!”
“Why?”
“Why?” George repeated. “Did you ask me why?”
“Yes.”