飘

　His　eyes　flickered　with　amusement。
　“I’d　back　you　against　the　Yankees　any　day。”
　“I’m　not　sure　that　that’s　a　compliment；”　she　said　uncertainly。
　“It　isn’t；”　he　answered。　“When　will　you　stop　looking　for　compliments　in　men’s　lightest　utterances？”
　“When　I’m　on　my　deathbed；”　she　replied　and　smiled；　thinking　that　there　would　always　be　men　to　compliment　her；　even　if　Rhett　never　did。
　“Vanity；　vanity；”　he　said。　“At　least；　you　are　frank　about　it。”
　He　opened　his　cigar　case；　extracted　a　black　cigar　and　held　it　to　his　nose　for　a　moment。　A　match　flared；　he　leaned　back　against　a　post　and；　clasping　his　hands　about　his　knees；　smoked　a　while　in　silence。　Scarlett　resumed　her　rocking　and　the　still　darkness　of　the　warm　night　closed　about　them。　The　mockingbird；　which　nested　in　the　tangle　of　roses　and　honeysuckle；　roused　from　slumber　and　gave　one　timid；　liquid　note。　Then；　as　if　thinking　better　of　the　matter；　it　was　silent　again。
　From　the　shadow　of　the　porch；　Rhett　suddenly　laughed；　a　low；　soft　laugh。
　“So　you　stayed　with　Mrs。　Wilkes！　This　is　the　strangest　situation　I　ever　encountered！”
　“I　see　nothing　strange　about　it；”　she　answered　uncomfortably；　immediately　on　the　alert。
　“No？　But　then　you　lack　the　impersonal　viewpoint　My　impression　has　been　for　some　time　past　that　you　could　hardly　endure　Mrs。　Wilkes。　You　think　her　silly　and　stupid　and　her　patriotic　notions　bore　you。　You　seldom　pass　by　the　opportunity　to　slip　in　some　belittling　remark　about　her；　so　naturally　it　seems　strange　to　me　that　you　should　elect　to　do　the　unselfish　thing　and　stay　here　with　her　during　this　shelling。　Now；　just　why　did　you　do　it？”
　“Because　she’s　Charlie’s　sister—and　like　a　sister　to　me；”　answered　Scarlett　with　as　much　dignity　as　possible　though　her　cheeks　were　growing　hot。
　“You　mean　because　she’s　Ashley’s　Wilkes’　widow。”
　Scarlett　rose　quickly；　struggling　with　her　anger。
　“I　was　almost　on　the　point　of　forgiving　you　for　your　former　boorish　conduct　but　now　I　shan’t　do　it。　I　wouldn’t　have　ever　let　you　come　upon　this　porch　at　all；　if　I　hadn’t　been　feeling　so　blue　and—”
　“Sit　down　and　smooth　your　ruffled　fur；”　he　said；　and　his　voice　changed。　He　reached　up　and　taking　her　hand　pulled　her　back　into　her　chair。　“Why　are　you　blue？”
　“Oh；　I　had　a　letter　from　Tara　today。　The　Yankees　are　close　to　home　and　my　little　sister　is　ill　with　typhoid　and—and—so　now；　even　if　I　could　go　home；　like　I　want　to；　Mother　wouldn’t　let　me　for　fear　I’d　catch　it　too。　Oh；　dear；　and　I　do　so　want　to　go　home！”
　“Well；　don’t　cry　about　it；”　he　said；　but　his　voice　was　kinder。　“You　are　much　safer　here　in　Atlanta　even　if　the　Yankees　do　come　than　you’d　be　at　Tara。　The　Yankees　won’t　hurt　you　and　typhoid　would。”
　“The　Yankees　wouldn’t　hurt　me！　How　can　you　say　such　a　lie？”
　“My　dear　girl；　the　Yankees　aren’t　fiends。　They　haven’t　horns　and　hoofs；　as　you　seem　to　think。　They　are　pretty　much　like　Southerners—except　with　worse　manners；　of　course；　and　terrible　accents。”
　“Why；　the　Yankees　would—”
　“Rape　you？　I　think　not。　Though；　of　course；　they’d　want　to。”
　“If　you　are　going　to　talk　vilely　I　shall　go　into　the　house；”　she　cried；　grateful　that　the　shadows　hid　her　crimson　face。
　“Be　frank。　Wasn’t　that　what　you　were　thinking？”
　“Oh；　certainly　not！”
　“Oh；　but　it　was！　No　use　getting　mad　at　me　for　reading　your　thoughts。　That’s　what　all　our　delicately　nurtured　and　pure…minded　Southern　ladies　think。　They　have　it　on　their　minds　constantly。　I’ll　wager　even　dowagers　like　Mrs。　Merriwether　。。。”
　Scarlett　gulped　in　silence；　remembering　that　wherever　two　or　more　matrons　were　gathered　together；　in　these　trying　days；　they　whispered　of　such　happenings；　always　in　Virginia　or　Tennessee　or　Louisiana；　never　close　to　home。　The　Yankees　raped　women　and　ran　bayonets　through　children’s　stomachs　and　burned　houses　over　the　heads　of　old　people。　Everyone　knew　these　things　were　true　even　if　they　didn’t　shout　them　on　the　street　corners。　And　if　Rhett　had　any　decency　he　would　realize　they　were　true。　And　not　talk　about　them。　And　it　wasn’t　any　laughing　matter　either。
　She　could　hear　him　chuckling　softly。　Sometimes　he　was　odious。　In　fact；　most　of　the　time　he　was　odious。　It　was　awful　for　a　man　to　know　what　women　really　thought　about　and　talked　about。　It　made　a　girl　feel　positively　undressed。　And　no　man　ever　learned　such　things　from　good　women　either。　She　was　indignant　that　he　had　read　her　mind。　She　liked　to　believe　herself　a　thing　of　mystery　to　men；　but　she　knew　Rhett　thought　her　as　transparent　as　glass。
　“Speaking　of　such　matters；”　he　continued；　“have　you　a　protector　or　chaperon　in　the　house？　The　admirable　Mrs。　Merriwether　or　Mrs。　Meade？　They　always　look　at　me　as　if　they　knew　I　was　here　for　no　good　purpose。”
　“Mrs。　Meade　usually　comes　over　at　night；”　answered　Scarlett；　glad　to　change　the　subject　“But　she　couldn’t　tonight　Phil；　her　boy；　is　home。”
　“What　luck；”　he　said　softly；　“to　find　you　alone。”
　Something　in　his　voice　made　her　heart　beat　pleasantly　faster　and　she　felt　her　face　flush。　She　had　heard　that　note　in　men’s　voices　often　enough　to　know　that　it　presaged　a　declaration　of　love。　Oh；　what　fun！　If　he　would　just　say　he　loved　her；　how　she　would　torment　him　and　get　even　with　him　for　all　the　sarcastic　remarks　he　had　flung　at　her　these　past　three　years。　She　would　lead　him　a　chase　that　would　make　up　for　even　that　awful　humiliation　of　the　day　he　witnessed　her　slapping　Ashley。　And　then　she’d　tell　him　sweetly　she　could　only　be　a　sister　to　him　and　retire　with　the　full　honors　of　war。　She　laughed　nervously　in　pleasant　anticipation。
　“Don’t　giggle；”　he　said；　and　taking　her　hand；　he　turned　it　over　and　pressed　his　lips　into　the　palm。　Something　vital；　electric；　leaped　from　him　to　her　at　the　touch　of　his　warm　mouth；　something　that　caressed　her　whole　body　thrillingly。　His　lips　traveled　to　her　wrist　and　she　knew　he　must　feel　the　leap　of　her　pulse　as　her　heart　quickened　and　she　tried　to　draw　back　her　hand。　She　had　not　bargained　on　this—this　treacherous　warm　tide　of　feeling　that　made　her　want　to　run　her　hands　through　his　hair；　to　feel　his　lips　upon　her　mouth。
　She　wasn’t　in　love　with　him；　she　told　herself　confusedly。　She　was　in　love　with　Ashley。　But　how　to　explain　this　feeling　that　made　her　hands　shake　and　the　pit　of　her　stomach　grow　cold？
　He　laughed　softly。
　“Don’t　pull　away！　I　won’t　hurt　you！”
　“Hurt　me？　I’m　not　afraid　of　you；　Rhett　Butler；　or　of　any　man　in　shoe　leather！”　she　cried；　furious　that　her　voice　shook　as　well　as　her　hands。
　“An　admirable　sentiment；　but　do　lower　your　voice。　Mrs。　Wilkes　might　hear　you。　And　pray　compose　yourself。”　He　sounded　as　though　delighted　at　her　flurry。
　“Scarlett；　you　do　like　me；　don’t　you？”
　That　was　more　like；　what　she　was　expecting。
　“Well；　sometimes；”　she　answered　cautiously。　“When　you　aren’t　acting　like　a　varmint。”
　He　laughed　again　and　held　the　palm　of　her　hand　against　his　hard　cheek。
　“I　think　you　like　me　because　I　am　a　varmint。　You’ve　known　so　few　dyed…in…the…wool　varmints　in　your　sheltered　life　that　my　very　difference　holds　a　quaint　charm　for　you。”
　This　was　not　the　turn　she　had　anticipated　and　she　tried　again　without　success　to　pull　her　hand　free。
　“That’s　not　true！　I　like　nice　men—men　you　can　depend　on　to　always　be　gentlemanly。”
　“You　mean　men　you　can　always　bully。　It’s　merely　a　matter　of　definition。　But　no　matter。”
　He　kissed　her　palm　again；　and　again　the　skin　on　the　back　of　her　neck　crawled　excitingly。
　“But　you　do　like　me。　Could　you　ever　love　me；　Scarlett？”
　“Ah！”　she　thought；　triumphantly。　“Now　I’ve　got　him！”　And　she　answered　with　studied　coolness：　“Indeed；　no。　That　is—not　unless　you　mended　your　manners　considerably。”
　“And　I　have　no　intention　of　mending　them。　So　you　could　not　love　me？　That　is　as　I　hoped。　For　while　I　like　you　immensely；　I　do　not　love　you　and　it　would　be　tragic　indeed　for　you　to　suffer　twice　from　unrequited　love；　wouldn’t　it；　dear？　May　I　call　you　‘dear；’　Mrs。　Hamilton？　I　shall　call　you　‘dear’　whether　you　like　it　or　not；　so　no　matter；　but　the　proprieties　must　be　observed。”
　“You　don’t　love　me？”
　“No；　indeed。　Did　you　hope　that　I　did？”
　“Don’t　be　so　presumptuous！”
　“You　hoped！　Alas；　to　blight　your　hopes！　I　should　love　you；　for　you　are　charming　and　talented　at　many　useless　accomplishments。　But　many　ladies　have　charm　and　accomplishments　and　are　just　as　useless　as　you　are。　No；　I　don’t　love　you。　But　I　do　like　you　tremendously—for　the　elasticity　of　your　conscience；　for　the　selfishness　which　you　seldom　trouble　to　hide；　and　for　the　shrewd　practicality　in　you　which；　I　fear；　you　get　from　some　not　too　remote　Irish…peasant　ancestor。”
　Peasant！　Why；　he　was　insulting　her！　She　began　to　splutter　wordlessly。
　“Don’t　interrupt；”　he　begged；　squeezing　her　hand。　“I　like　you　because　I　have　those　same　qualities　in　me　and　like　begets　liking。　I　realize　you　still　cherish　the　memory　of　the　godlike　and　wooden…headed　Mr。　Wilkes；　who’s　probably　been　in　his　grave　these　six　months。　But　there　must　be　room　in　your　heart　for　me　too。　Scarlett；　do　stop　wriggling！　I　am　making　you　a　declaration。　I　have　wanted　you　since　the　first　time　I　laid　eyes　on　you；　in　the　hall　of　Twelve　Oaks；　when　you　wer