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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 922/927
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She
was
frightened
but
not
at
the
thought
of
hell
fire
.
She
was
thinking
:
"
But
Rhett
is
my
soul
and
I
'm
losing
him
.
And
if
I
lose
him
,
nothing
else
matters
!
No
,
not
friends
or
money
or
--
or
anything
.
If
only
I
had
him
I
would
n't
even
mind
being
poor
again
.
No
,
I
would
n't
mind
being
cold
again
or
even
hungry
.
But
he
ca
n't
mean
--
Oh
,
he
ca
n't
!
"
She
wiped
her
eyes
and
said
desperately
:
"
Rhett
,
if
you
once
loved
me
so
much
,
there
must
be
something
left
for
me
.
"
"
Out
of
it
all
I
find
only
two
things
that
remain
and
they
are
the
two
things
you
hate
the
most
--
pity
and
an
odd
feeling
of
kindness
.
"
Pity
!
Kindness
!
"
Oh
,
my
God
,
"
she
thought
despairingly
.
Anything
but
pity
and
kindness
.
Whenever
she
felt
these
two
emotions
for
anyone
,
they
went
hand
in
hand
with
contempt
.
Was
he
contemptuous
of
her
too
?
Anything
would
be
preferable
to
that
.
Even
the
cynical
coolness
of
the
war
days
,
the
drunken
madness
that
drove
him
the
night
he
carried
her
up
the
stairs
,
his
hard
fingers
bruising
her
body
,
or
the
barbed
drawling
words
that
she
now
realized
had
covered
a
bitter
love
.
Anything
except
this
impersonal
kindness
that
was
written
so
plainly
in
his
face
.
"
Then
--
then
you
mean
I
've
ruined
it
all
--
that
you
do
n't
love
me
any
more
?
"
"
That
's
right
.
"
"
But
,
"
she
said
stubbornly
,
like
a
child
who
still
feels
that
to
state
a
desire
is
to
gain
that
desire
,
"
but
I
love
you
!
"
"
That
's
your
misfortune
.
"
She
looked
up
quickly
to
see
if
there
was
a
jeer
behind
those
words
but
there
was
none
.
He
was
simply
stating
a
fact
.
But
it
was
a
fact
she
still
would
not
believe
--
could
not
believe
.
She
looked
at
him
with
slanting
eyes
that
burned
with
a
desperate
obstinacy
and
the
sudden
hard
line
of
jaw
that
sprang
out
through
her
soft
cheek
was
Gerald
's
jaw
.
