I only want--" She caught herself but not in time.

Gerald's voice was strangely quiet and he spoke slowly as if

drawing his words from a store of thought seldom used.

"It's only Ashley you're wanting, and you'll not be having him.

And if he wanted to marry you, 'twould be with misgivings that I'd

say Yes, for all the fine friendship that's between me and John

Wilkes." And, seeing her startled look, he continued: "I want my

girl to be happy and you wouldn't be happy with him."

"Oh, I would! I would!"

"That you would not, daughter. Only when like marries like can

there be any happiness."

Scarlett had a sudden treacherous desire to cry out, "But you've

been happy, and you and Mother aren't alike," but she repressed

It, fearing that he would box her ears for her impertinence.

"Our people and the Wilkes are different," he went on slowly,

fumbling for words. "The Wilkes are different from any of our

neighbors--different from any family I ever knew. They are queer

folk, and it's best that they marry their cousins and keep their

queerness to themselves."

"Why, Pa, Ashley is not--"

"Hold your whist, Puss! I said nothing against the lad, for I

like him. And when I say queer, it's not crazy I'm meaning. He's

not queer like the Calverts who'd gamble everything they have on a

horse, or the Tarletons who turn out a drunkard or two in every

litter, or the Fontaines who are hot-headed little brutes and

after murdering a man for a fancied slight. That kind of

queerness is easy to understand, for sure, and but for the grace

of God Gerald O'Hara would be having all those faults! And I

don't mean that Ashley would run off with another woman, if you

were his wife, or beat you. You'd be happier if he did, for at

least you'd be understanding that. But he's queer in other ways,

and there's no understanding him at all. I like him, but it's

neither heads nor tails I can make of most he says. Now, Puss,

tell me true, do you understand his folderol about books and

poetry and music and oil paintings and such foolishness?"

"Oh, Pa," cried Scarlett impatiently, "if I married him, I'd

change all that!"

"Oh, you would, would you now?" said Gerald testily, shooting a

sharp look at her. "Then it's little enough you are knowing of

any man living, let alone Ashley. No wife has ever changed a

husband one whit, and don't you be forgetting that. And as for

changing a Wilkes--God's nightgown, daughter! The whole family is

that way, and they've always been that way. And probably always

will. I tell you they're born queer. Look at the way they go

tearing up to New York and Boston to hear operas and see oil

paintings. And ordering French and German books by the crate from

the Yankees! And there they sit reading and dreaming the dear God

knows what, when they'd be better spending their time hunting and

playing poker as proper men should."

"There's nobody in the County sits a horse better than Ashley,"

said Scarlett, furious at the slur of effeminacy flung on Ashley,

"nobody except maybe his father. And as for poker, didn't Ashley

take two hundred dollars away from you just last week in

Jonesboro?"

"The Calvert boys have been blabbing again," Gerald said

resignedly, "else you'd not be knowing the amount. Ashley can

ride with the best and play poker with the best--that's me, Puss!

And I'm not denying that when he sets out to drink he can put even

the Tarletons under the table. He can do all those things, but

his heart's not in it. That's why I say he's queer."

Scarlett was silent and her heart sank. She could think of no

defense for this last, for she knew Gerald was right. Ashley's

heart was in none of the pleasant things he did so well. He was

never more than politely interested in any of the things that