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Chapter 42

           He’ll—"

           Archieturnedtoher,hiseyemalevolent,andwhenhespoketherewascoldangerinhisrustyvoice.

           "ThedayyougitsconvictsisthedayIquitsyou,"hesaid.

           Scarlettwasstartled."Goodheavens!Why?"

           "Iknowsaboutconvictleasin’.Icallsitconvictmurderin’.Buyin’menliketheywasmules.Treatin’themworsethanmuleseverwastreated.Beatin’them,starvin’them,killin’them.Andwhocares?TheStatedon’tcare.It’sgottheleasemoney.Thefolksthatgitstheconvicts,theydon’tcare.Alltheywantistofeedthemcheapandgitalltheworktheycanoutofthem.Hell,Ma’m.IneverthoughtmuchofwomenandIthinklessofthemnow."

           "Isitanyofyourbusiness?"

           "Ireckon,"saidArchielaconicallyand,afterapause,"Iwasaconvictfornighontofortyyears."

           Scarlettgasped,and,foramoment,shrankbackagainstthecushions.ThisthenwastheanswertotheriddleofArchie,hisunwillingnesstotellhislastnameortheplaceofhisbirthoranyscrapofhispastlife,theanswertothedifficultywithwhichhespokeandhiscoldhatredoftheworld.Fortyyears!Hemusthavegoneintoprisonayoungman.Fortyyears!Whyhemusthavebeenalifeprisonerandliferswere

           "Wasitmurder?"

           "Yes,"answeredArchiebriefly,asheflappedthereins."M’wife."

           Scarlett’seyelidsbattedrapidlywithfright.

           Themouthbeneaththebeardseemedtomove,asifheweresmilinggrimlyatherfear."Iain’tgoin’tokillyou,Ma’m,ifthat’swhat’sfrettin’you.

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