If he was startled at her unexpected statement he did not show it.

He lounged to a chair and sitting down, tilted it back.

"My pet, as I told you before Bonnie was born, it is immaterial to

me whether you have one child or twenty."

How perverse of him to evade the issue so neatly, as if not caring

whether children came had anything to do with their actual arrival.

"I think three are enough. I don't intend to have one every year."

"Three seems an adequate number."

"You know very well--" she began, embarrassment making her cheeks

red. "You know what I mean?"

"I do. Do you realize that I can divorce you for refusing me my

marital rights?"

"You are just low enough to think of something like that," she

cried, annoyed that nothing was going as she planned it. "If you

had any chivalry you'd--you'd be nice like-- Well, look at Ashley

Wilkes. Melanie can't have any children and he--"

"Quite the little gentleman, Ashley," said Rhett and his eyes began

to gleam oddly. "Pray go on with your discourse."

Scarlett choked, for her discourse was at its end and she had

nothing more to say. Now she saw how foolish had been her hope of

amicably settling so important a matter, especially with a selfish

swine like Rhett.

"You've been to the lumber office this afternoon, haven't you?"

"What has that to do with it?"

"You like dogs, don't you, Scarlett? Do you prefer them in kennels

or mangers?"

The allusion was lost on her as the tide of her anger and

disappointment rose.

He got lightly to his feet and coming to her put his hand under her

chin and jerked her face up to his.

"What a child you are! You have lived with three men and still

know nothing of men's natures. You seem to think they are like old

ladies past the change of life."

He pinched her chin playfully and his hand dropped away from her.

One black eyebrow went up as he bent a cool long look on her.

"Scarlett, understand this. If you and your bed still held any

charms for me, no looks and no entreaties could keep me away. And

I would have no sense of shame for anything I did, for I made a

bargain with you--a bargain which I have kept and you are now

breaking. Keep your chaste bed, my dear."

"Do you mean to tell me," cried Scarlett indignantly, "that you

don't care--"

"You have tired of me, haven't you? Well, men tire more easily

than women. Keep your sanctity, Scarlett. It will work no

hardship on me. It doesn't matter," he shrugged and grinned.

"Fortunately the world is full of beds--and most of the beds are

full of women."

"You mean you'd actually be so--"

"My dear innocent! But, of course. It's a wonder I haven't

strayed long ere this. I never held fidelity to be a Virtue."

"I shall lock my door every night!"

"Why bother? If I wanted you, no lock would keep me out."

He turned, as though the subject were closed, and left the room.

Scarlett heard him going back to the nursery where he was welcomed

by the children. She sat down abruptly. She had had her way.

This was what she wanted and Ashley wanted. But it was not making

her happy. Her vanity was sore and she was mortified at the

thought that Rhett had taken it all so lightly, that he didn't want

her, that he put her on the level of other women in other beds.

She wished she could think of some delicate way to tell Ashley that

she and Rhett were no longer actually man and wife. But she knew

now she could not. It all seemed a terrible mess now and she half

heartedly wished she had said nothing about it. She would miss the

long amusing conversations in bed with Rhett when the ember of his

cigar glowed in the dark. She would miss the comfort of his arms

when she woke terrified from the dreams that she was running

through cold mist.

Suddenly she felt very unhappy and leaning her head on the arm of

the chair, she cried.

CHAPTER LII

One rainy afternoon when Bonnie was barely past her first birthday,

Wade moped about the sitting room, occasionally going to the window

and flattening his nose on the dripping pane. He was a slender,

weedy boy, small for his eight years, quiet almost to shyness,

never speaking unless spoken to. He was bored and obviously at

loss for entertainment, for Ella was busy in the corner with her

dolls, Scarlett was at her secretary muttering to herself as she

added a long column of figures, and Rhett was lying on the floor,

swinging his watch by its chain, just out of Bonnie's reach.

After Wade had picked up several books and let them drop with bangs

and sighed deeply, Scarlett turned to him in irritation.

"Heavens, Wade! Run out and play."

"I can't. It's raining."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed. Well, do something. You make me

nervous, fidgeting about. Go tell Pork to hitch up the carriage

and take you over to play with Beau."

"He isn't home," sighed Wade. "He's at Raoul Picard's birthday

party."

Raoul was the small son of Maybelle and Rene Picard--a detestable

little brat, Scarlett thought, more like an ape than a child.

"Well, you can go to see anyone you want to. Run tell Pork."

"Nobody's at home," answered Wade. "Everybody's at the party."

The unspoken words "everybody--but me" hung in the air; but

Scarlett, her mind on her account books, paid no heed.

Rhett raised himself to a sitting posture and said: "Why aren't

you at the party too, son?"

Wade edged closer to him, scuffing one foot and looking unhappy.

"I wasn't invited, sir."

Rhett handed his watch into Bonnie's destructive grasp and rose

lightly to his feet.

"Leave those damned figures alone, Scarlett. Why wasn't Wade

invited to this party?"

"For Heaven's sake, Rhett! Don't bother me now. Ashley has gotten

these accounts in an awful snarl-- Oh, that party? Well, I think

it's nothing unusual that Wade wasn't invited and I wouldn't let

him go if he had been. Don't forget that Raoul is Mrs. Merriwether's

grandchild and Mrs. Merriwether would as soon have a free issue

nigger in her sacred parlor as one of us."

Rhett, watching Wade's face with meditative eyes, saw the boy

flinch.

"Come here, son," he said, drawing the boy to him. "Would you like

to be at that party?"

"No, sir," said Wade bravely but his eyes fell.

"Hum. Tell me, Wade, do you go to little Joe Whiting's parties or

Frank Bonnell's or--well, any of your playmates?"

"No, sir. I don't get invited to many parties."

"Wade, you are lying!" cried Scarlett, turning. "You went to three

last week, the Bart children's party and the Gelerts' and the

Hundons'."

"As choice a collection of mules in horse harness as you could

group together," said Rhett, his voice going into a soft drawl.

"Did you have a good time at those parties? Speak up."

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"I--I dunno, sir. Mammy--Mammy says they're white trash."

"I'll skin Mammy this minute!" cried Scarlett, leaping to her feet.

"And as for you, Wade, talking so about Mother's friends--"

"The boy's telling the truth and so is Mammy," said Rhett. "But,

of course, you've never been able to know the truth if you met it