Voice. "I see. He loves you for your mind alone."

How dare he pry with dirty fingers, making the one beautiful sacred

thing in her life seem vile? Coolly, determinedly, he was breaking

down the last of her reserves and the information he wanted was

forthcoming.

"Yes, he does!" she cried, pushing back the memory of Ashley's

lips.

"My dear, he doesn't even know you've got a mind. If it was your

mind that attracted him, he would not need to struggle against you,

as he must have done to keep this love so--shall we say 'holy'? He

could rest easily for, after all, a man can admire a woman's mind

and soul and still be an honorable gentleman and true to his wife.

But it must be difficult for him to reconcile the honor of the

Wilkeses with coveting your body as he does."

"You judge everybody's mind by your own vile one!"

"Oh, I've never denied coveting you, if that's what you mean. But,

thank God, I'm not bothered about matters of honor. What I want I

take if I can get it, and so I wrestle neither with angels nor

devils. What a merry hell you must have made for Ashley! Almost I

can be sorry for him."

"I--I make a hell for him?"

"Yes, you! There you are, a constant temptation to him, but like

most of his breed he prefers what passes in these parts as honor to

any amount of love. And it looks to me as if the poor devil now

had neither love nor honor to warm himself!"

"He has love! . . . I mean, he loves me!"

"Does he? Then answer me this and we are through for the day and

you can take the money and throw it in the gutter for all I care."

Rhett rose to his feet and threw his half-smoked cigar into the

spittoon. There was about his movements the same pagan freedom and

leashed power Scarlett had noted that night Atlanta fell, something

sinister and a little frightening. "If he loved you, then why in

hell did he permit you to come to Atlanta to get the tax money?

Before I'd let a woman I loved do that, I'd--"

"He didn't know! He had no idea that I--"

"Doesn't it occur to you that he should have known?" There was

barely suppressed savagery in his voice. "Loving you as you say he

does, he should have known just what you would do when you were

desperate. He should have killed you rather than let you come up

here--and to me, of all people! God in Heaven!"

"But he didn't know!"

"If he didn't guess it without being told, he'll never know

anything about you and your precious mind."

How unfair he was! As if Ashley was a mind reader! As if Ashley

could have stopped her, even had he known! But, she knew suddenly,

Ashley could have stopped her. The faintest intimation from him,

in the orchard, that some day things might be different and she

would never have thought of going to Rhett. A word of tenderness,

even a parting caress when she was getting on the train, would have

held her back. But he had only talked of honor. Yet--was Rhett

right? Should Ashley have known her mind? Swiftly she put the

disloyal thought from her. Of course, he didn't suspect. Ashley

would never suspect that she would even think of doing anything so

immoral. Ashley was too fine to have such thoughts. Rhett was

just trying to spoil her love. He was trying to tear down what was

most precious to her. Some day, she thought viciously, when the

store was on its feet and the mill doing nicely and she had money,

she would make Rhett Butler pay for the misery and humiliation he

was causing her.

He was standing over her, looking down at her, faintly amused. The

emotion which had stirred him was gone.

"What does it all matter to you anyway?" she asked. "It's my

business and Ashley's and not yours."

He shrugged.

"Only this. I have a deep and impersonal admiration for your

endurance, Scarlett, and I do not like to see your spirit crushed

beneath too many millstones. There's Tara. That's a man-sized job

in itself. There's your sick father added on. He'll never be any

help to you. And the girls and the darkies. And now you've taken

on a husband and probably Miss Pittypat, too. You've enough

burdens without Ashley Wilkes and his family on your hands."

"He's not on my hands. He helps--"

"Oh, for God's sake," he said impatiently. "Don't let's have any

more of that. He's no help. He's on your hands and he'll be on

them, or on somebody's, till he dies. Personally, I'm sick of him

as a topic of conversation. . . . How much money do you want?"

Vituperative words rushed to her lips. After all his insults,

after dragging from her those things which were most precious to

her and trampling on them, he still thought she would take his

money!

But the words were checked unspoken. How wonderful it would be to

scorn his offer and order him out of the store! But only the truly

rich and the truly secure could afford this luxury. So long as she

was poor, just so long would she have to endure such scenes as

this. But when she was rich--oh, what a beautiful warming thought

that was!--when she was rich, she wouldn't stand anything she

didn't like, do without anything she desired or even be polite to

people unless they pleased her.

I shall tell them all to go to Halifax, she thought, and Rhett

Butler will be the first one!

The pleasure in the thought brought a sparkle into her green eyes

and a half-smile to her lips. Rhett smiled too.

"You're a pretty person, Scarlett," he said. "Especially when you

are meditating devilment. And just for the sight of that dimple

I'll buy you a baker's dozen of mules if you want them."

The front door opened and the counter boy entered, picking his

teeth with a quill. Scarlett rose, pulled her shawl about her and

tied her bonnet strings firmly under her chin. Her mind was made

up.

"Are you busy this afternoon? Can you come with me now?" she

asked.

"Where?"

"I want you to drive to the mill with me. I promised Frank I

wouldn't drive out of town by myself."

"To the mill in this rain?"

"Yes, I want to buy that mill now, before you change your mind."

He laughed so loudly the boy behind the counter started and looked

at him curiously.

"Have you forgotten you are married? Mrs. Kennedy can't afford to

be seen driving out into the country with that Butler reprobate,

who isn't received in the best parlors. Have you forgotten your

reputation?"

"Reputation, fiddle-dee-dee! I want that mill before you change

your mind or Frank finds out that I'm buying it. Don't be a slow

poke, Rhett. What's a little rain? Let's hurry."

That sawmill! Frank groaned every time he thought of it, cursing

himself for ever mentioning it to her. It was bad enough for her

to sell her earrings to Captain Butler (of all people!) and buy the

mill without even consulting her own husband about it, but it was

worse still that she did not turn it over to him to operate. That

looked bad. As if she did not trust him or his judgment.

Frank, in common with all men he knew, felt that a wife should be

guided by her husband's superior knowledge, should accept his

opinions in full and have none of her own. He would have given

most women their own way. Women were such funny little creatures

and it never hurt to humor their small whims. Mild and gentle by

nature, it was not in him to deny a wife much. He would have

enjoyed gratifying the foolish notions of some soft little person

and scolding her lovingly for her stupidity and extravagance. But

the things Scarlett set her mind on were unthinkable.

That sawmill, for example. It was the shock of his life when she

told him with a sweet smile, in answer to his questions, that she