Унесенные ветром

Chapter 63

           Helookedathersteadilywithdarkeyesthatwereheavywithfatigueandtherewasnoleapinglightinthem.Thoughherhairwastumblingabouthershoulders,herbosomheavingbreathlesslyandherskirtsmudsplatteredtotheknees,hisfacedidnotchangewithsurpriseorquestionorhislipstwistwithmockery.Hewassunkeninhischair,hissuitwrinklinguntidilyagainsthisthickeningwaist,everylineofhimproclaimingtheruinofafinebodyandthecoarseningofastrongface.Drinkanddissipationhaddonetheirworkonthecoin-cleanprofileandnowitwasnolongertheheadofayoungpaganprinceonnew-mintedgoldbutadecadent,tiredCaesaroncopperdebasedbylongusage.Helookedupatherasshestoodthere,handonheart,lookedquietly,almostinakindlyway,thatfrightenedher.

           "Comeandsitdown,"hesaid."Sheisdead?"

           Shenoddedandadvancedhesitantlytowardhim,uncertaintytakingforminhermindatthisnewexpressiononhisface.Withoutrising,hepushedbackachairwithhisfootandshesankintoit.ShewishedhehadnotspokenofMelaniesosoon.Shedidnotwanttotalkofhernow,tore-livetheagonyofthelasthour.TherewasalltherestofherlifeinwhichtospeakofMelanie.Butitseemedtohernow,drivenbyafiercedesiretocry:"Iloveyou,"thattherewasonlythisnight,thishour,inwhichtotellRhettwhatwasinhermind.ButtherewassomethinginhisfacethatstoppedherandshewassuddenlyashamedtospeakoflovewhenMelaniewashardlycold.

           "Well,Godresther,"hesaidheavily.

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