In his pockets. "Cotton prices are dropping. Times are so hard

and money's so tight."

"Oh, Rhett, you are teasing me! You know you have millions!"

There was a warm dancing malice in his eyes as he surveyed her.

"So everything is going nicely and you don't need the money very

badly. Well, I'm glad to hear that. I like to know that all is

well with old friends."

"Oh, Rhett, for God's sake . . ." she began desperately, her

courage and control breaking.

"Do lower your voice. You don't want the Yankees to hear you, I

hope. Did anyone ever tell you you had eyes like a cat--a cat in

the dark?"

"Rhett, don't! I'll tell you everything. I do need the money so

badly. I--I lied about everything being all right. Everything's

as wrong as it could be. Father is--is--he's not himself. He's

been queer ever since Mother died and he can't help me any. He's

just like a child. And we haven't a single field hand to work the

cotton and there's so many to feed, thirteen of us. And the taxes--

they are so high. Rhett, I'll tell you everything. For over a

year we've been just this side of starvation. Oh, you don't know!

You can't know! We've never had enough to eat and it's terrible to

wake up hungry and go to sleep hungry. And we haven't any warm

clothes and the children are always cold and sick and--"

"Where did you get the pretty dress?"

"It's made out of Mother's curtains," she answered, too desperate

to lie about this shame. "I could stand being hungry and cold but

now--now the Carpetbaggers have raised our taxes. And the money's

got to be paid right away. And I haven't any money except one

five-dollar gold piece. I've got to have money for the taxes!

Don't you see? If I don't pay them, I'll--we'll lose Tara and we

just can't lose it! I can't let it go!"

"Why didn't you tell me all this at first instead of preying on my

susceptible heart--always weak where pretty ladies are concerned?

No, Scarlett, don't cry. You've tried every trick except that one

and I don't think I could stand it. My feelings are already

lacerated with disappointment at discovering it was my money and

not my charming self you wanted."

She remembered that he frequently told bald truths about himself

when he spoke mockingly--mocking himself as well as others, and she

hastily looked up at him. Were his feelings really hurt? Did he

really care about her? Had he been on the verge of a proposal when

he saw her palms? Or had he only been leading up to another such

odious proposal as he had made twice before? If he really cared

about her, perhaps she could smooth him down. But his black eyes

raked her in no lover-like way and he was laughing softly.

"I don't like your collateral. I'm no planter. What else have you

to offer?"

Well, she had come to it at last. Now for it! She drew a deep

breath and met his eyes squarely, all coquetry and airs gone as her

spirit rushed out to grapple that which she feared most.

"I--I have myself."

"Yes?"

Her jaw line tightened to squareness and her eyes went emerald.

"You remember that night on Aunt Pitty's porch, during the siege?

You said--you said then that you wanted me."

He leaned back carelessly in his chair and looked into her tense

face and his own dark face was inscrutable. Something flickered

behind his eyes but he said nothing.

"You said--you said you'd never wanted a woman as much as you

wanted me. If you still want me, you can have me. Rhett, I'll do

anything you say but, for God's sake, write me a draft for the

money! My word's good. I swear it. I won't go back on it. I'll

put it in writing if you like."

He looked at her oddly, still inscrutable and as she hurried on she

could not tell if he were amused or repelled. If he would only say

something, anything! She felt her cheeks getting hot.

"I have got to have the money soon, Rhett. They'll turn us out in

the road and that damned overseer of Father's will own the place

and--"

"Just a minute. What makes you think I still want you? What makes

you think you are worth three hundred dollars? Most women don't

come that high."

She blushed to her hair line and her humiliation was complete.

"Why are you doing this? Why not let the farm go and live at Miss

Pittypat's. You own half that house."

"Name of God!" she cried. "Are you a fool? I can't let Tara go.