"You are the most barbarously ignorant young person I ever saw. Drogheda was in
sixteen hundred and something and Mr. O'Hara couldn't possibly have been alive then. Besides, Sherman isn't Cromwell."
"No, but he's worse! They say--"
"And as for the exotic viands the Irish ate at the siege--personally I'd as soon eat a nice juicy rat as some of the victuals they've been serving me recently at the hotel. I think I shall have to go back to Richmond. They have good food there, if you have the money to pay for it." His eyes mocked the fear in her face.
Annoyed that she had shown her trepidation, she cried: "I don't see why you've stayed here this long! All you think about is being comfortable and eating and--and things like that."
"I know no more pleasant way to pass the time than in eating and er--things like that," he said. "And as for why I stay here--well, I've read a good deal about sieges, beleaguered cities and the like, but I've never seen one. So I think I'll stay here and watch. I won't get hurt because I'm a noncombatant and besides I want the experience. Never pass up new experiences, Scarlett. They enrich the mind."
"My mind's rich enough."
"Perhaps you know best about that, but I should say--But that would be ungallant. And perhaps, I'm staying here to rescue you when the siege does come. I've never rescued a maiden in distress. That would be a new experience, too."
She knew he was teasing her but she sensed a seriousness behind his words. She tossed
her head.
"I won't need you to rescue me. I can take care of myself, thank you."
"Don't say that, Scarlett! Think of it, if you like, but never, never say it to a man. That's the trouble with Yankee girls. They'd be most charming if they weren't always telling you that they can take care of themselves, thank you. Generally they are telling the truth, God help them.
And so men let them take care of themselves."
"How you do run on," she said coldly, for there was no insult worse than being likened to a Yankee girl. "I believe you're lying about a siege. You know the Yankees will never get to Atlanta."
"I'll bet you they will be here within the month. I'll bet you a box of bonbons
against--"His dark eyes wandered to her lips. "Against a kiss."
For a last brief moment, fear of a Yankee invasion clutched her heart but at the word
"kiss," she forgot about it. This was familiar ground and far more interesting than military operations. With difficulty she restrained a smile of glee. Since the day when he gave her the green bonnet, Rhett had made no advances which could in any way be construed as those of a lover. He could never be inveigled into personal conversations, try though she might, but now with no angling on her part, he was talking about kissing.
"I don't care for such personal conversation," she said coolly and managed a frown.
"Besides, I'd just as soon kiss a pig."
"There's no accounting for tastes and I've always heard the Irish were partial to pigs--kept them under their beds, in fact. But, Scarlett, you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. All your beaux have respected you too much, though God knows why, or they have been too afraid of you to really do right by you. The result is that you are unendurably uppity. You should be kissed and by someone who knows how."
The conversation was not going the way she wanted it. It never did when she was with
him. Always, it was a duel in which she was worsted.
"And I suppose you think you are the proper person?" she asked with sarcasm, holding her temper in check with difficulty.
"Oh, yes, if I cared to take the trouble," he said carelessly. "They say I kiss very well."
"Oh," she began, indignant at the slight to her charms. "Why, you …" But her eyes fell in sudden confusion. He was smiling, but in the dark depths of his eyes a tiny light flickered for a brief moment, like a small raw flame.
"Of course, you've probably wondered why I never tried to follow up that chaste peck I gave you, the day I brought you that bonnet--"
"I have never--"
"Then you aren't a nice girl, Scarlett, and I'm sorry to hear it. All really nice girls wonder when men don't try to kiss them. They know they shouldn't want them to and they know they
must act insulted if they do, but just the same, they wish the men would try. … Well, my dear, take heart Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it. But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient."
She knew he was teasing but, as always, his teasing maddened her. There was always too