If he had married Sister Sue, she might not have caused his death

but she'd probably have made him twice as unhappy as you did. It

couldn't have happened differently."

"But I could have been nicer to him."

"You could have been--if you'd been somebody else. But you were

born to bully anyone who'll let you do it. The strong were made to

bully and the weak to knuckle under. It's all Frank's fault for

not beating you with a buggy whip. . . . I'm surprised at you,

Scarlett, for sprouting a conscience this late in life. Opportunists

like you shouldn't have them."

"What is an oppor--what did you call it?"

"A person who takes advantage of opportunities."

"Is that wrong?"

"It has always been held in disrepute--especially by those who had

the same opportunities and didn't take them."

"Oh, Rhett, you are joking and I thought you were going to be

nice!"

"I am being nice--for me. Scarlett, darling, you are tipsy.

That's what's the matter with you."

"You dare--"

"Yes, I dare. You are on the verge of what is vulgarly called a

'crying jag' and so I shall change the subject and cheer you up by

telling you some news that will amuse you. In fact, that's why I

came here this evening, to tell you my news before I went away."

"Where are you going?"

"To England and I may be gone for months. Forget your conscience,

Scarlett. I have no intention of discussing your soul's welfare

any further. Don't you want to hear my news?"

"But--" she began feebly and paused. Between the brandy which was

smoothing out the harsh contours of remorse and Rhett's mocking but

comforting words, the pale specter of Frank was receding into

shadows. Perhaps Rhett was right. Perhaps God did understand.

She recovered enough to push the idea from the top of her mind and

decide: "I'll think about it all tomorrow."

"What's your news?" she said with an effort, blowing her nose on

his handkerchief and pushing back the hair that had begun to

straggle.

"My news is this," he answered, grinning down at her. "I still

want you more than any woman I've ever seen and now that Frank's

gone, I thought you'd be interested to know it."

Scarlett jerked her hands away from his grasp and sprang to her

feet.

"I--you are the most ill-bred man in the world, coming here at this

time of all times with your filthy--I should have known you'd never

change. And Frank hardly cold! If you had any decency-- Will you

leave this--"

"Do be quiet or you'll have Miss Pittypat down here in a minute,"

he said, not rising but reaching up and taking both her fists.

"I'm afraid you miss my point."

"Miss your point? I don't miss anything." She pulled against his

grip. "Turn me loose and get out of here. I never heard of such

bad taste. I--"

"Hush," he said. "I am asking you to marry me. Would you be

convinced if I knelt down?"

She said "Oh" breathlessly and sat down hard on the sofa.

She stared at him, her mouth open, wondering if the brandy were

playing tricks on her mind, remembering senselessly his jibing:

"My dear, I'm not a marrying man." She was drunk or he was crazy.

But he did not look crazy. He looked as calm as though he were

discussing the weather, and his smooth drawl fell on her ears with

no particular emphasis.

"I always intended having you, Scarlett, since that first day I saw

you at Twelve Oaks when you threw that vase and swore and proved

that you weren't a lady. I always intended having you, one way or

another. But as you and Frank have made a little money, I know

you'll never be driven to me again with any interesting propositions

of loans and collaterals. So I see I'll have to marry you."

"Rhett Butler, is this one of your vile jokes?"

"I bare my soul and you are suspicious! No, Scarlett, this is a

bona fide honorable declaration. I admit that it's not in the best

of taste, coming at this time, but I have a very good excuse for my

lack of breeding. I'm going away tomorrow for a long time and I

fear that if I wait till I return you'll have married some one else

with a little money. So I thought, why not me and my money?

Really, Scarlett, I can't go all my life, waiting to catch you

between husbands."

He meant it. There was no doubt about it. Her mouth was dry as

she assimilated this knowledge and she swallowed and looked into

his eyes, trying to find some clue. They were full of laughter but

there was something else, deep in them, which she had never seen

before, a gleam that defied analysis. He sat easily, carelessly

but she felt that he was watching her as alertly as a cat watches a

mouse hole. There was a sense of leashed power straining beneath

his calm that made her draw back, a little frightened.

He was actually asking her to marry him; he was committing the