It's your own business, Ashley, and far be it from me to tell you

how to run it. But, I must say, I do not understand your attitude

or your remarks."

Oh, if they were only alone, so she would not be forced to say

these cool things to him, these words that were making him unhappy!

"I've offended you, Scarlett, and I did not mean to. You must

believe me and forgive me. There is nothing enigmatic in what I

said. It is only that I believe that money which comes in certain

ways seldom brings happiness."

"But you're wrong!" she cried, unable to restrain herself any

longer. "Look at me! You know how my money came. You know how

things were before I made my money! You remember that winter at

Tara when it was so cold and we were cutting up the carpets for

shoes and there wasn't enough to eat and we used to wonder how we

were going to give Beau and Wade an education. You remem--"

"I remember," said Ashley tiredly, "but I'd rather forget."

"Well, you can't say any of us were happy then, can you? And look

at us now! You've a nice home and a good future. And has anyone a

prettier house than mine or nicer clothes or finer horses? Nobody

sets as fine a table as me or gives nicer receptions and my

children have everything they want. Well, how did I get the money

to make it possible? Off trees? No, sir! Convicts and saloon

rentals and--"

"And don't forget murdering that Yankee," said Rhett softly. "He

really gave you your start."

Scarlett swung on him, furious words on her lips.

"And the money has made you very, very happy, hasn't it, darling?"

he asked, poisonously sweet.

Scarlett stopped short, her mouth open, and her eyes went swiftly

to the eyes of the other three. Melanie was almost crying with

embarrassment, Ashley was suddenly bleak and withdrawn and Rhett

was watching her over his cigar with impersonal amusement. She

started to cry out: "But of course, it's made me happy!"

But somehow, she could not speak.

CHAPTER LVIII

In the time that followed her illness Scarlett noticed a change in

Rhett and she was not altogether certain that she liked it. He was

sober and quiet and preoccupied. He was at home more often for

supper now and he was kinder to the servants and more affectionate

to Wade and Ella. He never referred to anything in their past,

pleasant or otherwise, and silently seemed to dare her to bring up

such subjects. Scarlett held her peace, for it was easier to let

well enough alone, and life went on smoothly enough, on the

surface. His impersonal courtesy toward her that had begun during

her convalescence continued and he did not fling softly drawled

barbs at her or sting her with sarcasm. She realized now that

though he had infuriated her with his malicious comments and roused

her to heated rejoinders, he had done it because he cared what she

did and said. Now she wondered if he cared about anything she did.

He was polite and disinterested and she missed his interest,

perverse though it had been, missed the old days of bickering and

retort.

He was pleasant to her now, almost as though she were a stranger;

but, as his eyes had once followed her, they now followed Bonnie.