I wouldn't have that on my conscience."

"My! How sour the grapes are today!" he exclaimed, screwing up his

face. "And just whom am I stealing from?"

She was silent, trying to think just whom indeed. After all, he

had only done what Frank had done on a small scale.

"Half the money is honestly mine," he continued, "honestly made

with the aid of honest Union patriots who were willing to sell out

the Union behind its back--for one-hundred-per-cent profit on their

goods. Part I made out of my little investment in cotton at the

beginning of the war, the cotton I bought cheap and sold for a

dollar a pound when the British mills were crying for it. Part I

got from food speculation. Why should I let the Yankees have the

fruits of my labor? But the rest did belong to the Confederacy.

It came from Confederate cotton which I managed to run through the

blockade and sell in Liverpool at sky-high prices. The cotton was

given me in good faith to buy leather and rifles and machinery

with. And it was taken by me in good faith to buy the same. My

orders were to leave the gold in English banks, under my own name,

in order that my credit would be good. You remember when the

blockade tightened, I couldn't get a boat out of any Confederate

port or into one, so there the money stayed in England. What should

I have done? Drawn out all that gold from English banks, like a

simpleton, and tried to run it into Wilmington? And let the Yankees

capture it? Was it my fault that the blockade got too tight? Was

it my fault that our Cause failed? The money belonged to the

Confederacy. Well, there is no Confederacy now--though you'd never

know it, to hear some people talk. Whom shall I give the money to?

The Yankee government? I should so hate for people to think me a

thief."

He removed a leather case from his pocket, extracted a long cigar

and smelled it approvingly, meanwhile watching her with pseudo

anxiety as if he hung on her words.

Plague take him, she thought, he's always one jump ahead of me.

There is always something wrong with his arguments but I never can

put my finger on just what it is.

"You might," she said with dignity, "distribute it to those who

are in need. The Confederacy is gone but there are plenty of

Confederates and their families who are starving."

He threw back his bead and laughed rudely.

"You are never so charming or so absurd as when you are airing some

hypocrisy like that," he cried in frank enjoyment. "Always tell

the truth, Scarlett. You can't lie. The Irish are the poorest

liars in the world. Come now, be frank. You never gave a damn

about the late lamented Confederacy and you care less about the

starving Confederates. You'd scream in protest if I even suggested

giving away all the money unless I started off by giving you the

lion's share."

"I don't want your money," she began, trying to be coldly dignified.

"Oh, don't you! Your palm is itching to beat the band this minute.

If I showed you a quarter, you'd leap on it."

"If you have come here to insult me and laugh at my poverty, I will

wish you good day," she retorted, trying to rid her lap of the

heavy ledger so she might rise and make her words more impressive.

Instantly, he was on his feet bending over her, laughing as he

pushed her back into her chair.

"When will you ever get over losing your temper when you hear the

truth? You never mind speaking the truth about other people, so

why should you mind hearing it about yourself? I'm not insulting

you. I think acquisitiveness is a very fine quality."

She was not sure what acquisitiveness meant but as he praised it

she felt slightly mollified.

"I didn't come to gloat over your poverty but to wish you long life

and happiness in your marriage. By the way, what did sister Sue

think of your larceny?"

"My what?"

"Your stealing Frank from under her nose."

"I did not--"

"Well, we won't quibble about the word. What did she say?"

"She said nothing," said Scarlett. His eyes danced as they gave

her the lie.

"How unselfish of her. Now, let's hear about your poverty. Surely