It would be a pleasure to renew acquaintances."

"My husband is in Virginia," said Melly with a proud lift of her

head. "But Charles--" Her voice broke.

"He died in camp," said Scarlett flatly. She almost snapped the

words. Would this creature never go away? Melly looked at her,

startled, and the Captain made a gesture of self-reproach.

"My dear ladies--how could I! You must forgive me. But permit a

stranger to offer the comfort of saying that to die for one's

country is to live forever."

Melanie smiled at him through sparkling tears while Scarlett felt

the fox of wrath and impotent hate gnaw at her vitals. Again he

had made a graceful remark, the kind of compliment any gentleman

would pay under such circumstances, but he did not mean a word of

It. He was jeering at her. He knew she hadn't loved Charles.

And Melly was just a big enough fool not to see through him. Oh,

please God, don't let anybody else see through him, she thought

with a start of terror. Would he tell what he knew? Of course he

wasn't a gentleman and there was no telling what men would do when

they weren't gentlemen. There was no standard to judge them by.

She looked up at him and saw that his mouth was pulled down at the

corners in mock sympathy, even while he swished the fan.

Something in his look challenged her spirit and brought her

strength back in a surge of dislike. Abruptly she snatched the

fan from his hand.

"I'm quite all right," she said tartly. "There's no need to blow

my hair out of place."

"Scarlett, darling! Captain Butler, you must forgive her. She--

she isn't herself when she hears poor Charlie's name spoken--and

perhaps, after all, we shouldn't have come here tonight. We're

still in mourning, you see, and it's quite a strain on her--all

this gaiety and music, poor child."

"I quite understand," he said with elaborate gravity, but as he

turned and gave Melanie a searching look that went to the bottom

of her sweet worried eyes, his expression changed, reluctant

respect and gentleness coming over his dark face. "I think you're

a courageous little lady, Mrs. Wilkes."

"Not a word about me!" thought Scarlett indignantly, as Melly

smiled in confusion and answered,

"Dear me, no, Captain Butler! The hospital committee just had to

have us for this booth because at the last minute-- A pillow

case? Here's a lovely one with a flag on it."

She turned to three cavalrymen who appeared at her counter. For a

moment, Melanie thought how nice Captain Butler was. Then she

wished that something more substantial than cheesecloth was

between her skirt and the spittoon that stood just outside the

booth, for the aim of the horsemen with amber streams of tobacco

juice was not so unerring as with their long horse pistols. Then

she forgot about the Captain, Scarlett and the spittoons as more

customers crowded to her.

Scarlett sat quietly on the stool fanning herself, not daring to

look up, wishing Captain Butler back on the deck of his ship where

he belonged.

"Your husband has been dead long?"

"Oh, yes, a long time. Almost a year."

"An aeon, I'm sure."

Scarlett was not sure what an aeon was, but there was no mistaking

the baiting quality of his voice, so she said nothing.

"Had you been married long? Forgive my questions but I have been

away from this section for so long."

"Two months," said Scarlett, unwillingly.

"A tragedy, no less," his easy voice continued.

Oh, damn him, she thought violently. If he was any other man in

the world I could simply freeze up and order him off. But he

knows about Ashley and he knows I didn't love Charlie. And my

hands are tied. She said nothing, still looking down at her fan.

"And this is your first social appearance?"

"I know it looks quite odd," she explained rapidly. "But the

McLure girls who were to take this booth were called away and

there was no one else, so Melanie and I--"

"No sacrifice is too great for the Cause."

Why, that was what Mrs. Elsing had said, but when she said it it

didn't sound the same way. Hot words started to her lips but she

choked them back. After all, she was here, not for the Cause, but

because she was tired of sitting home.

"I have always thought," he said reflectively, "that the system of

mourning, of immuring women in crepe for the rest of their lives

and forbidding them normal enjoyment is just as barbarous as the

Hindu suttee."

"Settee?"

He laughed and she blushed for her ignorance. She hated people

who used words unknown to her.

"In India, when a man dies he is burned, instead of buried, and

his wife always climbs on the funeral pyre and is burned with

him."

"How dreadful! Why do they do it? Don't the police do anything

about it?"

"Of course not. A wife who didn't burn herself would be a social

outcast. All the worthy Hindu matrons would talk about her for

not behaving as a well-bred lady should--precisely as those worthy

matrons in the corner would talk about you, should you appear

tonight in a red dress and lead a reel. Personally, I think

suttee much more merciful than our charming Southern custom of

burying widows alive!"

"How dare you say I'm buried alive!"

"How closely women crutch the very chains that bind them! You

think the Hindu custom barbarous--but would you have had the

courage to appear here tonight if the Confederacy hadn't needed

you?"

Arguments of this character were always confusing to Scarlett.

His were doubly confusing because she had a vague idea there was

truth in them. But now was the time to squelch him.

"Of course, I wouldn't have come. It would have been--well,

disrespectful to--it would have seemed as if I hadn't lov--"

His eyes waited on her words, cynical amusement in them, and she

could not go on. He knew she hadn't loved Charlie and he wouldn't

let her pretend to the nice polite sentiments that she should

express. What a terrible, terrible thing it was to have to do

with a man who wasn't a gentleman. A gentleman always appeared to

believe a lady even when he knew she was lying. That was Southern

chivalry. A gentleman always obeyed the rules and said the

correct things and made life easier for a lady. But this man

seemed not to care for rules and evidently enjoyed talking of

things no one ever talked about.

"I am waiting breathlessly."

"I think you are horrid," she said, helplessly, dropping her eyes.

He leaned down across the counter until his mouth was near her ear

and hissed, in a very creditable imitation of the stage villains

who appeared infrequently at the Athenaeum Hall: "Fear not, fair

lady! Your guilty secret is safe with me!"

"Oh," she whispered, feverishly, "how can you say such things!"

"I only thought to ease your mind. What would you have me say?

'Be mine, beautiful female, or I will reveal all?'"

She met his eyes unwillingly and saw they were as teasing as a

small boy's. Suddenly she laughed. It was such a silly

situation, after all. He laughed too, and so loudly that several

of the chaperons in the corner looked their way. Observing how

good a time Charles Hamilton's widow appeared to be having with a

perfect stranger, they put their heads together disapprovingly.

There was a roll of drums and many voices cried "Sh!" as Dr. Meade

mounted the platform and spread out his arms for quiet.

"We must all give grateful thanks to the charming ladies whose