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Chapter 37

           "Istherenothinganybodycando?"

           Frankpassedatiredhandoverhiswetbeard."Wearedoingthings."

           "What?"

           "Whytalkofthemtillwehaveaccomplishedsomething?Itmaytakeyears.PerhapsperhapstheSouthwillalwaysbelikethis."

           "Oh,no!"

           "Sugar,cometobed.Youmustbechilled.Youareshaking."

           "Whenwillitallend?"

           "Whenwecanallvoteagain,Sugar.WheneverymanwhofoughtfortheSouthcanputaballotintheboxforaSouthernerandaDemocrat."

           "Aballot?"shecrieddespairingly."Whatgood’saballotwhenthedarkieshavelosttheirmindswhentheYankeeshavepoisonedthemagainstus?"

           Frankwentontoexplaininhispatientmanner,buttheideathatballotscouldcurethetroublewastoocomplicatedforhertofollow.ShewasthinkinggratefullythatJonasWilkersonwouldneveragainbeamenaceofTaraandshewasthinkingaboutTony.

           "Oh,thepoorFontaines!"sheexclaimed."OnlyAlexleftandsomuchtodoatMimosa.Whydidn’tTonyhavesenseenoughtotodoitatnightwhennoonewouldknowwhoitwas?Asightmoregoodhe’ddohelpingwiththespringplowingthaninTexas."

           Frankputanarmabouther.Usuallyhewasgingerlywhenhedidthis,asifheanticipatedbeingimpatientlyshakenoff,buttonighttherewasafar-offlookinhiseyesandhisarmwasfirmaboutherwaist.

           "Therearethingsmoreimportantnowthanplowing,Sugar.AndscaringthedarkiesandteachingtheScallawagsalessonisoneofthem.

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