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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 502/927
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He
colored
with
pleasure
at
the
obvious
sincerity
of
her
words
,
hastily
squirted
a
stream
of
tobacco
juice
from
the
opposite
side
of
the
buggy
and
leaped
spryly
to
the
ground
.
He
shook
her
hand
enthusiastically
and
holding
up
the
tarpaulin
,
assisted
her
into
the
buggy
.
"
Miss
Scarlett
,
what
are
you
doing
over
in
this
section
by
yourself
?
Do
n't
you
know
it
's
dangerous
these
days
?
And
you
are
soaking
wet
.
Here
,
wrap
the
robe
around
your
feet
.
"
As
he
fussed
over
her
,
clucking
like
a
hen
,
she
gave
herself
up
to
the
luxury
of
being
taken
care
of
.
It
was
nice
to
have
a
man
fussing
and
clucking
and
scolding
,
even
if
it
was
only
that
old
maid
in
pants
,
Frank
Kennedy
.
It
was
especially
soothing
after
Rhett
's
brutal
treatment
.
And
oh
,
how
good
to
see
a
County
face
when
she
was
so
far
from
home
!
He
was
well
dressed
,
she
noticed
,
and
the
buggy
was
new
too
.
The
horse
looked
young
and
well
fed
,
but
Frank
looked
far
older
than
his
years
,
older
than
on
that
Christmas
eve
when
he
had
been
at
Tara
with
his
men
.
He
was
thin
and
sallow
faced
and
his
yellow
eyes
were
watery
and
sunken
in
creases
of
loose
flesh
.
His
ginger-colored
beard
was
scantier
than
ever
,
streaked
with
tobacco
juice
and
as
ragged
as
if
he
clawed
at
it
incessantly
.
But
he
looked
bright
and
cheerful
,
in
contrast
with
the
lines
of
sorrow
and
worry
and
weariness
which
Scarlett
saw
in
faces
everywhere
.
"
It
's
a
pleasure
to
see
you
,
"
said
Frank
warmly
.
"
I
did
n't
know
you
were
in
town
.
I
saw
Miss
Pittypat
only
last
week
and
she
did
n't
tell
me
you
were
coming
.
Did
--
er
--
ahem
--
did
anyone
else
come
up
from
Tara
with
you
?
"
He
was
thinking
of
Suellen
,
the
silly
old
fool
.
"
No
,
"
she
said
,
wrapping
the
warm
lap
robe
about
her
and
trying
to
pull
it
up
around
her
neck
.
"
I
came
alone
.
I
did
n't
give
Aunt
Pitty
any
warning
.
"
He
chirruped
to
the
horse
and
it
plodded
off
,
picking
its
way
carefully
down
the
slick
road
.
"
All
the
folks
at
Tara
well
?
"
"
Oh
,
yes
,
so-so
.
"
She
must
think
of
something
to
talk
about
,
yet
it
was
so
hard
to
talk
.
Her
mind
was
leaden
with
defeat
and
all
she
wanted
was
to
lie
back
in
this
warm
blanket
and
say
to
herself
:
"
I
wo
n't
think
of
Tara
now
.
I
'll
think
of
it
later
,
when
it
wo
n't
hurt
so
much
.
"
If
she
could
just
get
him
started
talking
on
some
subject
which
would
hold
him
all
the
way
home
,
so
she
would
have
nothing
to
do
but
murmur
"
How
nice
"
and
"
You
certainly
are
smart
"
at
intervals
.
