It was embarrassing to be the only person present who was giving

nothing. And then she saw the bright gleam of her wide gold

wedding ring.

For a confused moment she tried to remember Charles' face--how he

had looked when he slipped it on her finger. But the memory was

blurred, blurred by the sudden feeling of irritation that memory

of him always brought to her. Charles--he was the reason why life

was over for her, why she was an old woman.

With a sudden wrench she seized the ring but it stuck. The Zouave

was moving toward Melanie.

"Wait!" cried Scarlett. "I have something for you!" The ring

came off and, as she started to throw it into the basket, heaped

up with chains, watches, rings, pins and bracelets, she caught

Rhett Butler's eye. His lips were twisted in a slight smile.

Defiantly, she tossed the ring onto the top of the pile.

"Oh, my darling!" whispered Molly, clutching her arm, her eyes

blazing with love and pride. "You brave, brave girl! Wait--

please, wait, Lieutenant Picard! I have something for you, too!"

She was tugging at her own wedding ring, the ring Scarlett knew

had never once left that finger since Ashley put it there.

Scarlett knew, as no one did, how much it meant to her. It came

off with difficulty and for a brief instant was clutched tightly

In the small palm. Then it was laid gently on the pile of

jewelry. The two girls stood looking after the Zouave who was

moving toward the group of elderly ladies in the corner, Scarlett

defiant, Melanie with a look more pitiful than tears. And neither

expression was lost on the man who stood beside them.

"If you hadn't been brave enough to do it, I would never have been

either," said Melly, putting her arm about Scarlett's waist and

giving her a gentle squeeze. For a moment Scarlett wanted to

shake her off and cry "Name of God!" at the top of her lungs, as

Gerald did when he was irritated, but she caught Rhett Butler's

eye and managed a very sour smile. It was annoying the way Melly

always misconstrued her motives--but perhaps that was far

preferable to having her suspect the truth.

"What a beautiful gesture," said Rhett Butler, softly. "It is

such sacrifices as yours that hearten our brave lads in gray."

Hot words bubbled to her lips and it was with difficulty that she

checked them. There was mockery in everything he said. She

disliked him heartily, lounging there against the booth. But

there was something stimulating about him, something warm and

Vital and electric. All that was Irish in her rose to the

challenge of his black eyes. She decided she was going to take

this man down a notch or two. His knowledge of her secret gave

him an advantage over her that was exasperating, so she would have

to change that by putting him at a disadvantage somehow. She

stifled her impulse to tell him exactly what she thought of him.

Sugar always caught more flies than vinegar, as Mammy often said,

and she was going to catch and subdue this fly, so he could never

again have her at his mercy.

"Thank you," she said sweetly, deliberately misunderstanding his

jibe. "A compliment like that coming from so famous a man as

Captain Butler is appreciated."

He threw back his head and laughed freely--yelped, was what

Scarlett thought fiercely, her face becoming pink again.

"Why don't you say what you really think?" he demanded, lowering

his voice so that in the clatter and excitement of the collection,

it came only to her ears. "Why don't you say I'm a damned rascal

and no gentleman and that I must take myself off or you'll have

one of these gallant boys in gray call me out?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to answer tartly, but she managed

by heroic control to say: "Why, Captain Butler! How you do run

on! As if everybody didn't know how famous you are and how brave

and what a--what a--

"I am disappointed in you," he said.

"Disappointed?"

"Yes. On the occasion of our first eventful meeting I thought to

myself that I had at last met a girl who was not only beautiful

but who had courage. And now I see that you are only beautiful."

"Do you mean to call me a coward?" She was ruffling like a hen.

"Exactly. You lack the courage to say what you really think.

When I first met you, I thought: There is a girl in a million.

She isn't like these other silly little fools who believe

everything their mammas tell them and act on it, no matter how

they feel. And conceal all their feelings and desires and little

heartbreaks behind a lot of sweet words. I thought: Miss O'Hara