Унесенные ветром

Chapter 39

           EverybodyIrunintothisafternooninJonesborowaspromisin’tocutherdeadthenexttimetheyseenher,butmaybethey’llgetoverit.Now,promisemeyouwon’tlightintoher.Iwon’tbehavin’noquarrelin’tonightwithMr.O’Haralayin’deadintheparlor."

           HEwon’tbehavinganyquarreling!thoughtScarlett,indignantly.HetalkslikeTarawashisalready!

           AndthenshethoughtofGerald,deadintheparlor,andsuddenlyshebegantocry,cryinbitter,gulpingsobs.Willputhisarmaroundher,drewhercomfortablycloseandsaidnothing.

           Astheyjoltedslowlydownthedarkeningroad,herheadonhisshoulder,herbonnetaskew,shehadforgottentheGeraldofthelasttwoyears,thevagueoldgentlemanwhostaredatdoorswaitingforawomanwhowouldneverenter.Shewasrememberingthevital,virileoldmanwithhismaneofcrispwhitehair,hisbellowingcheerfulness,hisstampingboots,hisclumsyjokes,hisgenerosity.Sherememberedhow,asachild,hehadseemedthemostwonderfulmanintheworld,thisblusteringfatherwhocarriedherbeforehimonhissaddlewhenhejumpedfences,turnedherupandpaddledherwhenshewasnaughty,andthencriedwhenshecriedandgaveherquarterstogethertohush.SherememberedhimcominghomefromCharlestonandAtlantaladenwithgiftsthatwereneverappropriate,rememberedtoo,withafaintsmilethroughtears,howhecamehomeintheweehoursfromCourtDayatJonesboro,drunkassevenearls,jumpingfences,hisrollickingvoiceraisedin"TheWearin’o’theGreen."

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