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Gone with the Wind(397)

Author:Margaret Mitchell

"I thought you would," he said and laughed.

"Why not?" her suspicions aroused as always by his laughter.

"They're all second-raters, black sheep, rascals. They're all adventurers or Carpetbag aristocrats. They all made their money speculating in food like your loving husband or out of dubious government contracts or in shady ways that won't bear investigation."

"I don't believe it You're teasing. They're the nicest people …"

"The nicest people in town are starving," said Rhett. "And living politely in hovels, and I doubt if I'd be received in those hovels. You see, my dear, I was engaged in some of my nefarious schemes here during the war and these people have devilish long memories! Scarlett, you are a constant joy to me. You unerringly manage to pick the wrong people and the wrong things."

"But they are your friends!"

"Oh, but I like rascals. My early youth was spent as a gambler on a river boat and I can understand people like that. But I'm not blind to what they are. Whereas you"--he laughed again--"you have no instinct about people, no discrimination between the cheap and the great.

Sometimes, I think that the only great ladies you've ever associated with were your mother and Miss Melly and neither seems to have made any impression on you."

"Melly! Why she's as plain as an old shoe and her clothes always look tacky and she never has two words to say for herself!"

"Spare me your jealousy, Madam. Beauty doesn't make a lady, nor clothes a great lady!"

"Oh, don't they! Just you wait, Rhett Butler, and I'll show you. Now that I've--we've got money, I'm going to be the greatest lady you ever saw!"

"I shall wait with interest," he said.

More exciting than the people she met were the frocks Rhett bought her, superintending

the choice of colors, materials and designs himself. Hoops were out now, and the new styles were charming with the skirts pulled back from the front and draped over bustles, and on the bustles were wreaths of Sowers and bows and cascades of lace. She thought of the modest hoops of the war years and she felt a little embarrassed at these new skirts which undeniably outlined her abdomen. And the darling little bonnets that were not really bonnets at all, but flat little affairs worn over one eye and laden with fruits and flowers, dancing plumes and fluttering ribbons! (If only Rhett had not been so silly and burned the false curls she bought to augment her knot of Indian-straight hair that peeked from the rear of these little hats!) And the delicate convent-made underwear! How lovely it was and how many sets she had! Chemises and nightgowns and

petticoats of the finest linen trimmed with dainty embroidery and infinitesimal tucks. And the satin slippers Rhett bought her! They had heels three inches high and huge glittering paste buckles on them. And silk stockings, a dozen pairs and not a one had cotton tops! What riches!

She recklessly bought gifts for the family. A furry St. Bernard puppy for Wade, who had

always longed for one, a Persian kitten for Beau, a coral bracelet for little Ella, a heavy necklace with moonstone pendants for Aunt Pitty, a complete set of Shakespeare for Melanie and Ashley, an elaborate livery for Uncle Peter, including a high silk coachman's hat with a brush upon it, dress lengths for Dilcey and Cookie, expensive gifts for everyone at Tara.

"But what have you bought for Mammy?" questioned Rhett, looking over the pile of gifts spread out on the bed in their hotel room, and removing the puppy and kitten to the dressing room.

"Not a thing. She was hateful. Why should I bring her a present when she called us

mules?"

"Why should you so resent hearing the truth, my pet? You must bring Mammy a present

It would break her heart if you didn't--and hearts like hers are too valuable to be broken."

"I won't take her a thing. She doesn't deserve it."

Then I'll buy her one. I remember my mammy always said that when she went to Heaven

she wanted a taffeta petticoat so stiff that it would stand by itself and so rustly that the Lord God would think it was made of angels' wings. I'll buy Mammy some red taffeta and have an elegant petticoat made."

"She won't take it from you. She'd die rather than wear it."

"I don't doubt it But I'll make the gesture just the same."

The shops of New Orleans were so rich and exciting and shopping with Rhett was an

adventure. Dining with him was an adventure too, and one more thrilling than shopping, for he knew what to order and how it should be cooked. The wines and liqueurs and champagnes of