"Where are you going?"
"To England and I may be gone for months. Forget your conscience, Scarlett. I have no intention of discussing your soul's welfare any further. Don't you want to hear my news?"
"But—"she began feebly and paused. Between the brandy which was smoothing out the harsh contours of remorse and Rhett's mocking but comforting words, the pale specter of Frank was receding into shadows. Perhaps Rhett was right. Perhaps God did understand. She recovered enough to push the idea from the top of her mind and decide: "I'll think about it all tomorrow."
"What's your news?" she said with an effort, blowing her nose on his handkerchief and pushing back the hair that had begun to straggle.
"My news is this," he answered, grinning down at her. "I still want you more than any woman I'
