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Gone with the Wind(266)

Author:Margaret Mitchell

laughed in soft excitement and spun about on her toes, her arms extended, her hoops tilting up to show her lace trimmed pantalets. His black eyes took her in from bonnet to heels in a glance that missed nothing, that old impudent unclothing glance which always gave her goose bumps.

"You look very prosperous and very, very tidy. And almost good enough to eat. If it

wasn't for the Yankees outside--but you are quite safe, my dear. Sit down. I won't take advantage of you as I did the last time I saw you." He rubbed his cheek with pseudo ruefulness. "Honestly, Scarlett, don't you think you were a bit selfish, that night? Think of all I had done for you, risked my life--stolen a horse--and such a horse! Rushed to the defense of Our Glorious Cause! And what did I get for my pains? Some hard words and a very hard slap in the face."

She sat down. The conversation was not going in quite the direction she hoped. He had

seemed so nice when he first saw her, so genuinely glad she had come. He had almost seemed like a human being and not the perverse wretch she knew so well.

"Must you always get something for your pains?"

"Why, of course! I am a monster of selfishness, as you ought to know. I always expect payment for anything I give."

That sent a slight chill through her but she rallied and jingled her earbobs again.

"Oh, you really aren't so bad, Rhett. You just like to show off."

"My word, but you have changed!" he said and laughed. "What has made a Christian of you? I have kept up with you through Miss Pittypat but she gave me no intimation that you had

developed womanly sweetness. Tell me more about yourself, Scarlett. What have you been doing since I last saw you?"

The old irritation and antagonism which he roused in her was hot in her heart and she

yearned to speak tart words. But she smiled instead and the dimple crept into her cheek. He had drawn a chair close beside hers and she leaned over and put a gentle hand on his arm, in an unconscious manner.

"Oh, I've been doing nicely, thank you, and everything at Tara is fine now. Of course, we had a dreadful time right after Sherman went through but, after all, he didn't burn the house and the darkies saved most of the livestock by driving it into the swamp. And we cleared a fair crop this last fall, twenty bales. Of course, that's practically nothing compared with what Tara can do but we haven't many field hands. Pa says, of course, we'll do better next year. But, Rhett, it's so dull in the country now! Imagine, there aren't any balls or barbecues and the only thing people talk about is hard times! Goodness, I get sick of it! Finally last week I got too bored to stand it any longer, so Pa said I must take a trip and have a good time. So I came up here to get me some frocks made and then I'm going over to Charleston to visit my aunt. It'll be lovely to go to balls again."

There, she thought with pride, I delivered that with just the right airy way! Not too rich but certainly not poor.

"You look beautiful in ball dresses, my dear, and you know it too, worse luck! I suppose the real reason you are going, visiting is that you have run through the County swains and are seeking fresh ones in fields afar."

Scarlett had a thankful thought that Rhett had spent the last several months abroad and

had only recently come back to Atlanta. Otherwise, he would never have made so ridiculous a statement. She thought briefly of the County swains, the ragged embittered little Fontaines, the poverty-stricken Munroe boys, the Jonesboro and Fayetteville beaux who were so busy plowing, splitting rails and nursing sick old animals that they had forgotten such things as balls and pleasant flirtations ever existed. But she put down this memory and giggled self-consciously as if admitting the truth of his assertion.

"Oh, well," she said deprecatingly.

"You are a heartless creature, Scarlett, but perhaps that's part of your charm." He smiled in his old way, one corner of his mouth curving down, but she knew he was complimenting her.

"For, of course, you know you have more charm than the law should permit. Even I have felt it, case-hardened though I am. I've often wondered what it was about you that made me always

remember you, for I've known many ladies who were prettier than you and certainly more clever and, I fear, morally more upright and kind. But, somehow, I always remembered you. Even

during the months since the surrender when I was in France and England and hadn't seen you or heard of you and was enjoying the society of many beautiful ladies, I always remembered you and wondered what you were doing."

For a moment she was indignant that he should say other women were prettier, more