Impersonal speculative way.

She followed him back to his chair, her hands twisting, and stood

before him.

"You are wrong," she began again, finding words. "Rhett, tonight,

when I knew, I ran every step of the way home to tell you. Oh,

darling, I--"

"You are tired," he said, still watching her. "You'd better go to

bed."

"But I must tell you!"

"Scarlett," he said heavily, "I don't want to hear--anything."

"But you don't know what I'm going to say!"

"My pet, it's written plainly on your face. Something, someone has

made you realize that the unfortunate Mr. Wilkes is too large a

mouthful of Dead Sea fruit for even you to chew. And that same

something has suddenly set my charms before you in a new and

attractive light," he sighed slightly. "And it's no use to talk

about it."

She drew a sharp surprised breath. Of course, he had always read

her easily. Heretofore she had resented it but now, after the

first shock at her own transparency, her heart rose with gladness

and relief. He knew, he understood and her task was miraculously

made easy. No use to talk about it! Of course he was bitter at

her long neglect, of course he was mistrustful of her sudden

turnabout. She would have to woo him with kindness, convince him

with a rich outpouring of love, and what a pleasure it would be to

do it!

"Darling, I'm going to tell you everything," she said, putting her

hands on the arm of his chair and leaning down to him. "I've been

so wrong, such a stupid fool--"

"Scarlett, don't go on with this. Don't be humble before me. I

can't bear it. Leave us some dignity, some reticence to remember

out of our marriage. Spare us this last."

She straightened up abruptly. Spare us this last? What did he

mean by "this last"? Last? This was their first, their beginning.

"But I will tell you," she began rapidly, as if fearing his hand

upon her mouth, silencing her. "Oh, Rhett, I love you so, darling!

I must have loved you for years and I was such a fool I didn't know

it. Rhett, you must believe me!"

He looked at her, standing before him, for a moment, a long look

that went to the back of her mind. She saw there was belief in his

eyes but little interest. Oh, was he going to be mean, at this of

all times? To torment her, pay her back in her own coin?

"Oh, I believe you," he said at last. "But what of Ashley Wilkes?"

"Ashley!" she said, and made an impatient gesture. "I--I don't

believe I've cared anything about him for ages. It was--well, a

sort of habit I hung onto from when I was a little girl. Rhett,

I'd never even thought I cared about him if I'd ever known what he

was really like. He's such a helpless, poor-spirited creature, for

all his prattle about truth and honor and--"

"No," said Rhett. "If you must see him as he really is, see him

straight. He's only a gentleman caught in a world he doesn't

belong in, trying to make a poor best of it by the rules of the

world that's gone."

"Oh, Rhett, don't let's talk of him! What does he matter now?

Aren't you glad to know-- I mean, now that I--"

As his tired eyes met hers, she broke off in embarrassment, shy as

a girl with her first beau. If he'd only make it easier for her!

If only he would hold out his arms, so she could crawl thankfully

into his lap and lay her head on his chest. Her lips on his could

tell him better than all her stumbling words. But as she looked at

him, she realized that he was not holding her off just to be mean.

He looked drained and as though nothing she had said was of any

moment.

"Glad?" he said. "Once I would have thanked God, fasting, to hear

you say all this. But, now, it doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? What are you talking about? Of course, it

matters! Rhett, you do care, don't you? You must care. Melly

said you did."

"Well, she was right, as far as she knew. But, Scarlett, did it

ever occur to you that even the most deathless love could wear

out?"

She looked at him speechless, her mouth a round O.

"Mine wore out," he went on, "against Ashley Wilkes and your insane

obstinacy that makes you hold on like a bulldog to anything you

think you want. . . . Mine wore out."

"But love can't wear out!"

"Yours for Ashley did."

"But I never really loved Ashley!"

"Then, you certainly gave a good imitation of it--up till tonight.

Scarlett, I'm not upbraiding you, accusing you, reproaching you.

That time has passed. So spare me your defenses and your

explanations. If you can manage to listen to me for a few minutes

without interrupting, I can explain what I mean. Though God knows,

I see no need for explanations. The truth's so plain."

She sat down, the harsh gas light falling on her white bewildered

face. She looked into the eyes she knew so well--and knew so

little--listened to his quiet voice saying words which at first

meant nothing. This was the first time he had ever talked to her

in this manner, as one human being to another, talked as other

people talked, without flippancy, mockery or riddles.

"Did it ever occur to you that I loved you as much as a man can

love a woman? Loved you for years before I finally got you?

During the war I'd go away and try to forget you, but I couldn't

and I always had to come back. After the war I risked arrest, just

to come back and find you. I cared so much I believe I would have

killed Frank Kennedy if he hadn't died when he did. I loved you

but I couldn't let you know it. You're so brutal to those who love

you, Scarlett. You take their love and hold it over their heads

like a whip."

Out of it all only the fact that he loved her meant anything. At

the faint echo of passion in his voice, pleasure and excitement

crept back into her. She sat, hardly breathing, listening,

waiting.

"I knew you didn't love me when I married you. I knew about

Ashley, you see. But, fool that I was, I thought I could make you

care. Laugh, if you like, but I wanted to take care of you, to pet

you, to give you everything you wanted. I wanted to marry you and

protect you and give you a free rein in anything that would make

you happy--just as I did Bonnie. You'd had such a struggle,

Scarlett. No one knew better than I what you'd gone through and I

wanted you to stop fighting and let me fight for you. I wanted you

to play, like a child--for you were a child, a brave, frightened,

bullheaded child. I think you are still a child. No one but a

child could be so headstrong and so insensitive."

His voice was calm and tired but there was something in the quality

of it that raised a ghost of memory in Scarlett. She had heard a