2012年3月16日星期五
the pale specter of Frank was
“I am being nice—for me. Scarlett, darling, you are tipsy. That’s what’s the matter with you.”
“You dare—”
“Yes, I dare. You are on the verge of what is vulgarly called a ‘crying jag’ and so I shall change the subject and cheer you up by telling you some news that will amuse you. In fact, that’s why I came here this evening, to tell you my news before I went away.”
“Where are you going?”
“To England and I may be gone for months. Forget your conscience, Scarlett. I have no intention of discussing your soul’s welfare any further. Don’t you want to hear my news?”
“But—” she began feebly and paused. Between the brandy which was smoothing out the harsh contours of remorse and Rhett’s mocking but comforting words, the pale specter of Frank was receding into shadows. Perhaps Rhett was right. Perhaps God did understand. She recovered enough to push the idea from the top of her mind and decide: “I’ll think about it all tomorrow.”
“What’s your news?” she said with an effort, blowing her nose on his handkerchief and pushing back the hair that had begun to straggle.
“My news is this,” he answered, grinning down at her. “I still want you more than any woman I’ve ever seen and now that Frank’s gone, I thought you’d be interested to know it.”
Scarlett jerked her hands away from his grasp and sprang to her feet.
“I—you are the most ill-bred man in the world, coming here at this time of all times with your filthy—I should have known you’d never change. And Frank hardly cold! If you had any decency— Will you leave this—”
“Do be quiet or you’ll have Miss Pittypat down here in a minute,” he said, not rising but reaching up and taking both her fists. “I’m afraid you miss my point.”
“Miss your point? I don’t miss anything.” She pulled against his grip. “Turn me loose and get out of here. I never heard of such bad taste. I—”
“Hush,” he said. “I am asking you to marry me. Would you be convinced if I knelt down?”
She said “Oh” breathlessly and sat down hard on the sofa.
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