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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 121/927
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He
stopped
and
chuckled
as
he
tugged
at
his
gray
goatee
.
"
Oh
,
what
?
Do
tell
!
"
"
On
second
thought
I
believe
I
'll
keep
you
guessing
,
too
.
But
you
girls
must
stand
up
for
me
if
the
church
members
want
to
run
me
out
of
town
for
doing
it
.
However
,
it
's
for
the
hospital
.
You
'll
see
.
Nothing
like
this
has
ever
been
done
before
.
"
He
went
off
pompously
toward
a
group
of
chaperons
in
one
corner
,
and
just
as
the
two
girls
had
turned
to
each
other
to
discuss
the
possibilities
of
the
secret
,
two
old
gentlemen
bore
down
on
the
booth
,
declaring
in
loud
voices
that
they
wanted
ten
miles
of
tatting
.
Well
,
after
all
,
old
gentlemen
were
better
than
no
gentlemen
at
all
,
thought
Scarlett
,
measuring
out
the
tatting
and
submitting
demurely
to
being
chucked
under
the
chin
.
The
old
blades
charged
off
toward
the
lemonade
booth
and
others
took
their
places
at
the
counter
.
Their
booth
did
not
have
so
many
customers
as
did
the
other
booths
where
the
tootling
laugh
of
Maybelle
Merriwether
sounded
and
Fanny
Elsing
's
giggles
and
the
Whiting
girls
'
repartee
made
merriment
.
Melly
sold
useless
stuff
to
men
who
could
have
no
possible
use
for
it
as
quietly
and
serenely
as
a
shopkeeper
,
and
Scarlett
patterned
her
conduct
on
Melly
's
.
There
were
crowds
in
front
of
every
other
counter
but
theirs
,
girls
chattering
,
men
buying
.
The
few
who
came
to
them
talked
about
how
they
went
to
the
university
with
Ashley
and
what
a
fine
soldier
he
was
or
spoke
in
respectful
tones
of
Charles
and
how
great
a
loss
to
Atlanta
his
death
had
been
.
Then
the
music
broke
into
the
rollicking
strains
of
"
Johnny
Booker
,
he
'
p
dis
Nigger
!
"
and
Scarlett
thought
she
would
scream
.
She
wanted
to
dance
.
She
wanted
to
dance
.
She
looked
across
the
floor
and
tapped
her
foot
to
the
music
and
her
green
eyes
blazed
so
eagerly
that
they
fairly
snapped
.
All
the
way
across
the
floor
,
a
man
,
newly
come
and
standing
in
the
doorway
,
saw
them
,
started
in
recognition
and
watched
closely
the
slanting
eyes
in
the
sulky
,
rebellious
face
.
Then
he
grinned
to
himself
as
he
recognized
the
invitation
that
any
male
could
read
.
He
was
dressed
in
black
broadcloth
,
a
tall
man
,
towering
over
the
officers
who
stood
near
him
,
bulky
in
the
shoulders
but
tapering
to
a
small
waist
and
absurdly
small
feet
in
varnished
boots
.
His
severe
black
suit
,
with
fine
ruffled
shirt
and
trousers
smartly
strapped
beneath
high
insteps
,
was
oddly
at
variance
with
his
physique
and
face
,
for
he
was
foppishly
groomed
,
the
clothes
of
a
dandy
on
a
body
that
was
powerful
and
latently
dangerous
in
its
lazy
grace
.
His
hair
was
jet
black
,
and
his
black
mustache
was
small
and
closely
clipped
,
almost
foreign
looking
compared
with
the
dashing
,
swooping
mustaches
of
the
cavalrymen
near
by
.
He
looked
,
and
was
,
a
man
of
lusty
and
unashamed
appetites
.
He
had
an
air
of
utter
assurance
,
of
displeasing
insolence
about
him
,
and
there
was
a
twinkle
of
malice
in
his
bold
eyes
as
he
stared
at
Scarlett
,
until
finally
,
feeling
his
gaze
,
she
looked
toward
him
.
Somewhere
in
her
mind
,
the
bell
of
recognition
rang
,
but
for
the
moment
she
could
not
recall
who
he
was
.
But
he
was
the
first
man
in
months
who
had
displayed
an
interest
in
her
,
and
she
threw
him
a
gay
smile
.
She
made
a
little
curtsy
as
he
bowed
,
and
then
,
as
he
straightened
and
started
toward
her
with
a
peculiarly
lithe
Indian-like
gait
,
her
hand
went
to
her
mouth
in
horror
,
for
she
knew
who
he
was
.
Thunderstruck
,
she
stood
as
if
paralyzed
while
he
made
his
way
through
the
crowd
.
Then
she
turned
blindly
,
bent
on
flight
into
the
refreshment
rooms
,
but
her
skirt
caught
on
a
nail
of
the
booth
.
She
jerked
furiously
at
it
,
tearing
it
and
,
in
an
instant
,
he
was
beside
her
.
