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Chapter 33

           TheypassedbesidewhathadbeentheAtlantaHotelwhereRhettandUncleHenryhadlivedandofthateleganthostelrythereremainedonlyashell,apartoftheblackenedwalls.Thewarehouseswhichhadborderedthetraintracksforaquarterofamileandheldtonsofmilitarysupplieshadnotbeenrebuiltandtheirrectangularfoundationslookeddrearyunderthedarksky.Withoutthewallofbuildingsoneithersideandwiththecarshedgone,therailroadtracksseemedbareandexposed.Somewhereamidtheseruins,undistinguishablefromtheothers,laywhatremainedofherownwarehouseonthepropertyCharleshadlefther.UncleHenryhadpaidlastyear’staxesonitforher.She’dhavetorepaythatmoneysometime.Thatwassomethingelsetoworryabout.

           AstheyturnedthecornerintoPeachtreeStreetandshelookedtowardFivePoints,shecriedoutwithshock.DespiteallFrankhadtoldheraboutthetownburningtotheground,shehadneverreallyvisualizedcompletedestruction.Inhermindthetownshelovedsowellstillstoodfullofclose-packedbuildingsandfinehouses.ButthisPeachtreeStreetshewaslookinguponwassodenudedoflandmarksitwasasunfamiliarasifshehadneverseenitbefore.Thismuddystreetdownwhichshehaddrivenathousandtimesduringthewar,alongwhichshehadfledwithduckedheadandfear-quickenedlegswhenshellsburstoverherduringthesiege,thisstreetshehadlastseenintheheatandhurryandanguishofthedayoftheretreat,wassostrangelookingshefeltlikecrying.

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