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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Унесенные ветром
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- Стр. 924/927
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She
lifted
her
chin
and
managed
to
ask
quietly
:
"
Where
will
you
go
?
"
There
was
a
faint
gleam
of
admiration
in
his
eyes
as
he
answered
.
"
Perhaps
to
England
--
or
to
Paris
.
Perhaps
to
Charleston
to
try
to
make
peace
with
my
people
.
"
"
But
you
hate
them
!
I
've
heard
you
laugh
at
them
so
often
and
--
"
He
shrugged
.
"
I
still
laugh
--
but
I
've
reached
the
end
of
roaming
,
Scarlett
.
I
'm
forty-five
--
the
age
when
a
man
begins
to
value
some
of
the
things
he
's
thrown
away
so
lightly
in
youth
,
the
clannishness
of
families
,
honor
and
security
,
roots
that
go
deep
--
Oh
,
no
!
I
'm
not
recanting
,
I
'm
not
regretting
anything
I
've
ever
done
.
I
've
had
a
hell
of
a
good
time
--
such
a
hell
of
a
good
time
that
it
's
begun
to
pall
and
now
I
want
something
different
.
No
,
I
never
intend
to
change
more
than
my
spots
.
But
I
want
the
outer
semblance
of
the
things
I
used
to
know
,
the
utter
boredom
of
respectability
--
other
people
's
respectability
,
my
pet
,
not
my
own
--
the
calm
dignity
life
can
have
when
it
's
lived
by
gentle
folks
,
the
genial
grace
of
days
that
are
gone
.
When
I
lived
those
days
I
did
n't
realize
the
slow
charm
of
them
--
"
Again
Scarlett
was
back
in
the
windy
orchard
of
Tara
and
there
was
the
same
look
in
Rhett
's
eyes
that
had
been
in
Ashley
's
eyes
that
day
.
Ashley
's
words
were
as
clear
in
her
ears
as
though
he
and
not
Rhett
were
speaking
.
Fragments
of
words
came
back
to
her
and
she
quoted
parrot-like
:
"
A
glamor
to
it
--
a
perfection
,
a
symmetry
like
Grecian
art
.
"
Rhett
said
sharply
:
"
Why
did
you
say
that
?
That
's
what
I
meant
.
"
"
It
was
something
that
--
that
Ashley
said
once
,
about
the
old
days
.
"
