However, this surmise depressed him for only a moment or so.

Of course, people couldn't be expected to live forever, and it would be a good thing to have someone in charge of the Estate who wouldn't let it get to looking so rusty that riffraff dared to make fun of it.

For George had lately undergone the annoyance of calling upon the Morgans, in the rather stuffy red velours and gilt parlour of their apartment at the hotel, one evening when Mr.
Frederick Kinney also was a caller, and Mr.Kinney had not been tactful.
In fact, though he adopted a humorous tone of voice, in expressing his, sympathy for people who, through the city's poverty in hotels, were obliged to stay at the Amberson, Mr.Kinney's intention was interpreted by the other visitor as not at all humorous, but, on the contrary, personal and offensive.
George rose abruptly, his face the colour of wrath.

"Good-night, Miss Morgan.

Good-night, Mr.Morgan," he said.