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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 157/927
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"
And
last
night
was
a
scandal
,
no
less
.
"
"
Well
,
"
he
began
wheedlingly
,
"
we
'll
be
forgetting
all
that
.
And
do
you
think
a
fine
pretty
lady
like
Miss
Pittypat
would
be
having
any
brandy
in
the
house
?
The
hair
of
the
dog
--
"
Scarlett
turned
and
tiptoed
through
the
silent
hall
into
the
dining
room
to
get
the
brandy
bottle
that
she
and
Melly
privately
called
the
"
swoon
bottle
"
because
Pittypat
always
took
a
sip
from
it
when
her
fluttering
heart
made
her
faint
--
or
seem
to
faint
Triumph
was
written
on
her
face
and
no
trace
of
shame
for
her
unfilial
treatment
of
Gerald
.
Now
Ellen
would
be
soothed
with
lies
if
any
other
busybody
wrote
her
.
Now
she
could
stay
in
Atlanta
.
Now
she
could
do
almost
as
she
pleased
,
Pittypat
being
the
weak
vessel
that
she
was
.
She
unlocked
the
cellaret
and
stood
for
a
moment
with
the
bottle
and
glass
pressed
to
her
bosom
.
She
saw
a
long
vista
of
picnics
by
the
bubbling
waters
of
Peachtree
Creek
and
barbecues
at
Stone
Mountain
,
receptions
and
balls
,
afternoon
danceables
,
buggy
rides
and
Sunday-night
buffet
suppers
.
She
would
be
there
,
right
in
the
heart
of
things
,
right
in
the
center
of
a
crowd
of
men
.
And
men
fell
in
love
so
easily
,
after
you
did
little
things
for
them
at
the
hospital
.
She
would
n't
mind
the
hospital
so
much
now
.
Men
were
so
easily
stirred
when
they
had
been
ill
.
They
fell
into
a
clever
girl
's
hand
just
like
the
ripe
peaches
at
Tara
when
the
trees
were
gently
shaken
.
She
went
back
toward
her
father
with
the
reviving
liquor
,
thanking
Heaven
that
the
famous
O'Hara
head
had
not
been
able
to
survive
last
night
's
bout
and
wondering
suddenly
if
Rhett
Butler
had
had
anything
to
do
with
that
.
On
an
afternoon
of
the
following
week
,
Scarlett
came
home
from
the
hospital
weary
and
indignant
.
She
was
tired
from
standing
on
her
feet
all
morning
and
irritable
because
Mrs.
Merriwether
had
scolded
her
sharply
for
sitting
on
a
soldier
's
bed
while
she
dressed
his
wounded
arm
.
Aunt
Pitty
and
Melanie
,
bonneted
in
their
best
,
were
on
the
porch
with
Wade
and
Prissy
,
ready
for
their
weekly
round
of
calls
.
Scarlett
asked
to
be
excused
from
accompanying
them
and
went
upstairs
to
her
room
.
When
the
last
sound
of
carriage
wheels
had
died
away
and
she
knew
the
family
was
safely
out
of
sight
,
she
slipped
quietly
into
Melanie
's
room
and
turned
the
key
in
the
lock
.
It
was
a
prim
,
virginal
little
room
and
it
lay
still
and
warm
in
the
slanting
rays
of
the
four-o'clock
sun
.
The
floors
were
glistening
and
bare
except
for
a
few
bright
rag
rugs
,
and
the
white
walls
unornamented
save
for
one
corner
which
Melanie
had
fitted
up
as
a
shrine
.
Here
,
under
a
draped
Confederate
flag
,
hung
the
gold-hilted
saber
that
Melanie
's
father
had
carried
in
the
Mexican
War
,
the
same
saber
Charles
had
worn
away
to
war
.
Charles
'
sash
and
pistol
belt
hung
there
too
,
with
his
revolver
in
the
holster
.
Between
the
saber
and
the
pistol
was
a
daguerreotype
of
Charles
himself
,
very
stiff
and
proud
in
his
gray
uniform
,
his
great
brown
eyes
shining
out
of
the
frame
and
a
shy
smile
on
his
lips
.
Scarlett
did
not
even
glance
at
the
picture
but
went
unhesitatingly
across
the
room
to
the
square
rosewood
writing
box
that
stood
on
the
table
beside
the
narrow
bed
.