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Chapter 25

           Noonewouldcareiftheydidknow,foreveryonehadtoomanytroublesofhisowntoworryabouther.Andallthiswashappeningtoher,ScarlettO’Hara,whohadneverraisedherhandeventopickupherdiscardedstockingsfromthefloorortotiethelacesofherslippersScarlett,whoselittleheadachesandtempershadbeencoddledandcateredtoallherlife.

           Asshelayprostrate,tooweaktofightoffmemoriesandworries,theyrushedatherlikebuzzardswaitingfordeath.Nolongerhadshethestrengthtosay:"I’llthinkofMotherandPaandAshleyandallthisruinlaterYes,laterwhenIcanstandit."Shecouldnotstanditnow,butshewasthinkingofthemwhethershewilleditornot.Thethoughtscircledandswoopedaboveher,diveddownanddrovetearingclawsandsharpbeaksintohermind.Foratimelesstime,shelaystill,herfaceinthedirt,thesunbeatinghotlyuponher,rememberingthingsandpeoplewhoweredead,rememberingawayoflivingthatwasgoneforeverandlookingupontheharshvistaofthedarkfuture.

           WhenshearoseatlastandsawagaintheblackruinsofTwelveOaks,herheadwasraisedhighandsomethingthatwasyouthandbeautyandpotentialtendernesshadgoneoutofherfaceforever.Whatwaspastwaspast.Thosewhoweredeadweredead.Thelazyluxuryoftheolddayswasgone,nevertoreturn.And,asScarlettsettledtheheavybasketacrossherarm,shehadsettledherownmindandherownlife.

           Therewasnogoingbackandshewasgoingforward.

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