You're one of those people the war didn't change and you go right on thinking and acting just like nothing had happened��like we were still rich as Croesus and had more food than ...

And I guess it never will.

You've been with me for months, thought Scarlett grimly, looking at her sister-in-law, and it's never occurred to you that it's charity you're living on.

That's true, that's true! said Melanie distractedly, watching the small cloud of red dust disappear down the road.

She's so proud and she'd think it was charity.

You know she wouldn't.

She wouldn't come, Melly, she amended.

She started to say this but something in Melanie's stricken face halted the words.

Scarlett certainly had no intention of feeding another mouth.

Good Lord! cried Scarlett, shocked at the matter-of-fact way in which Melanie was offering

Oh, Scarlett, have Pork saddle the horse quickly and you ride after her and tell her to come live with us!

Just think what her��what their children will be.

It's the end of the Calverts.

Oh, I'd rather see Cathleen dead! I know Cade would rather see her dead.

Oh, they don't have to marry! There's nothing shameful in being a spinster.

There isn't anybody for girls to marry and they've got to marry someone.

Melly, it's like I said the other day.

Of course it was no pleasant thought, marrying Yankee white trash, but after all a girl couldn't live alone on a plantation; she had to have a husband to help her run it.

Cathleen's plight seemed to her more startling than catastrophic.

It was annoying that Melanie always seemed to grasp more of situations than she herself did.

Fiddle-dee-dee! cried Scarlett, beginning to be irritated.

In love? Oh, Scarlett, don't even suggest such a horrid thing! Oh, poor Cathleen! Poor Cade!

Melly, is she crazy? You know she can't be in love with him.

Scarlett stared, still dazed.

Melanie looked after her, the tears streaming down her face.

Then Cathleen flapped the bridle reins sharply and the old mule moved off.

Cathleen bent down and Melanie tiptoed.

It was all very bewildering to Scarlett who was still trying to grasp the idea that Cathleen Calvert was going to marry an overseer��Cathleen, daughter of a rich planter, Cathlee ...

There were bright tears on Melanie's lashes and understanding in her eyes, and before them, Cathleen's lips curved into the crooked smile of a brave child who tries not to cry.

Melanie looked up and met Cathleen's hard eyes.

Well, I must be going.

You see, my stepmother and the children are going North for good, tomorrow.

And he is going to die in some comfort and peace if I can manage it, without worry about who will take care of me when he's gone.

There seemed to be no feeling in her voice.

He is dying, said Cathleen shortly.

How is Cade? asked Scarlett, utterly at a loss but fumbling for some words to break the awkward silence.

The white brittle mask was back again and she picked up the reins.

I only came to tell you.

Well, I must go.

Melanie dropped her hand but still did not look up.

And don't pat me! I can't stand that either.

Her head was low.

Melanie said nothing but patted the foot in its awkward home-made shoe which hung from the stirrup.

I shall die!

Scarlett could not even find voice to say Oh! but Cathleen, peering down suddenly at Melanie, said in a low savage voice: If you cry, Melly, I can't stand it.

Yes, Mr. Hilton, our overseer.

Yes, said Cathleen, shortly.

Is it someone we know, dear?

Then Melanie spoke.

They digested this in silence, looking up at her, puzzled.