It's frankness. But no, you had to come jingling your earbobs and

pouting and frisking like a prostitute with a prospective client."

He did not raise his voice at the last words or emphasize them in

any way but to Scarlett they cracked like a whiplash, and with

despair she saw the end of her hopes of getting him to propose

marriage. Had he exploded with rage and injured vanity or

upbraided her, as other men would have done, she could have handled

him. But the deadly quietness of his voice frightened her, left

her utterly at a loss as to her next move. Although he was a

prisoner and the Yankees were in the next room, it came to her

suddenly that Rhett Butler was a dangerous man to run afoul of.

"I suppose my memory is getting faulty. I should have recalled

that you are just like me and that you never do anything without an

ulterior motive. Now, let me see. What could you have had up your

sleeve, Mrs. Hamilton? It isn't possible that you were so

misguided as to think I would propose matrimony?"

Her face went crimson and she did not answer.

"But you can't have forgotten my oft-repeated remark that I am not

a marrying man?"

When she did not speak, he said with sudden violence:

"You hadn't forgotten? Answer me."

"I hadn't forgotten," she said wretchedly.

"What a gambler you are, Scarlett," he jeered. "You took a chance

that my incarceration away from female companionship would put me

in such a state I'd snap at you like a trout at a worm."

And that's what you did, thought Scarlett with inward rage, and if

it hadn't been for my hands--

"Now, we have most of the truth, everything except your reason.

See if you can tell me the truth about why you wanted to lead me

into wedlock."

There was a suave, almost teasing note in his voice and she took

heart. Perhaps everything wasn't lost, after all. Of course, she

had ruined any hope of marriage but, even in her despair, she was

glad. There was something about this immobile man which frightened

her, so that now the thought of marrying him was fearful. But

perhaps if she was clever and played on his sympathies and his

memories, she could secure a loan. She pulled her face into a

placating and childlike expression.

"Oh, Rhett, you can help me so much--if you'll just be sweet."

"There's nothing I like better than being--sweet."

"Rhett, for old friendship's sake, I want you to do me a favor."

"So, at last the horny-handed lady comes to her real mission. I

feared that 'visiting the sick and the imprisoned' was not your

proper role. What do you want? Money?"

The bluntness of his question ruined all hopes of leading up to the

matter in any circuitous and sentimental way.

"Don't be mean, Rhett," she coaxed. "I do want some money. I want

you to lend me three hundred dollars."

"The truth at last. Talking love and thinking money. How truly

feminine! Do you need the money badly?"

"Oh, ye-- Well, not so terribly but I could use it."

"Three hundred dollars. That's a vast amount of money. What do

you want it for?"

"To pay taxes on Tara."

"So you want to borrow some money. Well, since you're so

businesslike, I'll be businesslike too. What collateral will you

give me?"

"What what?"

"Collateral. Security on my investment. Of course, I don't want

to lose all that money." His voice was deceptively smooth, almost

silky, but she did not notice. Maybe everything would turn out

nicely after all.

"My earrings."

"I'm not interested in earrings."

"I'll give you a mortgage on Tara."

"Now just what would I do with a farm?"

"Well, you could--you could--it's a good plantation. And you

wouldn't lose. I'd pay you back out of next year's cotton."

"I'm not so sure." He tilted back in his chair and stuck his hands