observing with some astonishment that her knees

“I think she’ll see me,” Rhett’s voice floated up to her. 　“But she is lying down now, Captain Butler, and won’t see anyone. Poor child, she is quite prostrated. She—” 　“I think she will see me. Please tell her I am going away tomorrow and may be gone some time. It’s very important.” 　“But—” fluttered Aunt Pittypat. 　Scarlett ran out into the hall, observing with some astonishment that her knees were a little unsteady, and leaned over the banisters. 　“I’ll be down terrectly, Rhett,” she called. 　She had a glimpse of Aunt Pittypat’s plump upturned face, her eyes owlish with surprise and disapproval. Now it’ll be all over town that I conducted myself most improperly on the day of my husband’s funeral, thought Scarlett, as she hurried back to her room and began smoothing her hair. She buttoned her black basque up to the chin and pinned down the collar with Pittypat’s mourning brooch. I don’t look very pretty she thought, leaning toward the mirror, too white and scared. For a moment her hand went toward the lock box where she kept her rouge hidden but she decided against it. Poor Pittypat would be upset in earnest if she came downstairs pink and blooming. She picked up the cologne bottle and took a large mouthful, carefully rinsed her mouth and then spit into the slop jar. 　She rustled down the stairs toward the two who still stood in the hall, for Pittypat had been too upset by Scarlett’s action to ask Rhett to sit down. He was decorously clad in black, his linen frilly and starched, and his manner was all that custom demanded from an old friend paying a call of sympathy on one bereaved. In fact, it was so perfect that it verged on the burlesque, though Pittypat did not see it. He was properly apologetic for disturbing Scarlett and regretted that in his rush of closing up business before leaving town he had been unable to be present at the funeral. 　“Whatever possessed him to come?” wondered Scarlett. “He doesn’t mean a word he’s saying.” 　“I hate to intrude on you at this time but I have a matter of business to discuss that will not wait. Something that Mr. Kennedy and I were planning—” 　“I didn’t know you and Mr. Kennedy had business dealings,” said Aunt Pittypat, almost indignant that some of Frank’s activities were unknown to her. 　“Mr. Kennedy was a man of wide interests,” said Rhett respectfully. “Shall we go into the parlor?” 　“No!” cried Scarlett, glancing at the closed folding doors. She could still see the coffin in that room. She hoped she never had to enter it again. Pitty, for once, took a hint, although with none too good grace.