“I’m nervous as a bride,” she thought. “And about Rhett!” And, at the idea she fell to giggling foolishly.
But Rhett did not appear for dinner, nor was he at his place at the supper table. The night passed, a long night during which she lay awake until dawn, her ears strained to hear his key in the latch. But he did not come. When the second day passed with no word from him, she was frantic with disappointment and fear. She went by the bank but he was not there. She went to the store and was very sharp with everyone, for every time the door opened to admit a customer she looked up with a flutter, hoping it was Rhett. She went to the lumber yard and bullied Hugh until he hid himself behind a pile of lumber. But Rhett did not seek her there.
She could not humble herself to ask friends if they had seen him. She could not make inquiries among the servants for news of him. But she felt they knew something she did not know. Negroes always knew everything. Mammy was unusually silent those two days. She watched Scarlett out of the corner of her eye and said nothing. When the second night had passed Scarlett made up her mind to go to the police. Perhaps he had had an accident, perhaps his horse had thrown him and he was lying helpless in some ditch. Perhaps—oh, horrible thought—perhaps he was dead.
The next morning when she had finished her breakfast and was in her room putting on her bonnet, she heard swift feet on the. stairs. As she sank to the bed in weak thankfulness, Rhett entered the room. He was freshly barbered, shaved and massaged and he was sober, but his eyes were bloodshot and his face puffy from drink. He waved an airy hand at her and said: “Oh, hello.”
How could a man say: “Oh, hello,” after being gone without explanation for two days? How could he be so nonchalant with the memory of such a night as they had spent? He couldn’t unless—unless—the terrible thought leaped into her mind. Unless such nights were the usual thing to him. For a moment she could not speak and all the pretty gestures and smiles she had thought to use upon him were forgotten. He did not even come to her to give her his usual offhand kiss but stood looking at her, with a grin, a smoking cigar in his hand.
“Where—where have you been?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know! I thought surely the whole town knew by now. Perhaps they all do, except you. You know the old adage: ‘The wife is always the last one to find out.’ ”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought that after the police called at Belle’s night before last—”
“Belle’s—that—that woman! You have been with—”
“Of course. Where else would I be? I hope you haven’t worried about me.”
“You went from me to—oh!”
“Come, come, Scarlett! Don’t play the deceived wife. You must have known about Belle long ago.”
“You went to her from me, after—after—”
“Oh, that.” He made a careless gesture. “I will forget my manners. My apologies for my conduct at our last meeting. I was very drunk, as you doubtless know, and quite swept off my feet by your charms—need I enumerate them?”
Suddenly she wanted to cry, to lie down on the bed and sob endlessly. He hadn’t changed, nothing had changed, and she had been a fool, a stupid, conceited, silly fool, thinking he loved her. It had all been one of his repulsive drunken jests. He had taken her and used her when he was drunk, just as he would use any woman in Belle’s house. And now he was back, insulting, sardonic, out of reach. She swallowed her tears and rallied. He must never, never know what she had thought. How he would laugh if he knew! Well, he’d never know. She looked up quickly at him and caught that old, puzzling, watchful glint in his eyes—keen, eager as though he hung on her next words, hoping they would be—what was he hoping? That she’d make a fool out of herself and bawl and give him something to laugh about? Not she! Her slanting brows rushed together in a cold frown.
“I had naturally suspected what your relations with that creature were.”
“Only suspected? Why didn’t you ask me and satisfy your curiosity? I’d have told you. I’ve been living with her ever since the day you and Ashley Wilkes decided that we should have separate bedrooms.”
“You have the gall to stand there and boast to me, your wife, that—”
“Oh, spare me your moral indignation. You never gave a damn what I did as long as I paid the bills. And you know I’ve been no angel recently. And as for you being my wife—you haven’t been much of a wife since Bonnie came, have you? You’ve been a poor investment, Scarlett. Belle’s been a better one.”
“Investment? You mean you gave her—?”
“ ‘Set her up in business’ is the correct term, I believe. Belle’s a smart woman. I wanted to see her get ahead and all she needed was money to start a house of her own. You ought to know what miracles a woman can perform when she has a bit of cash. Look at yourself.”
“You compare me—”
“Well, you are both hard-headed business women and both successful. Belle’s got the edge on you, of course, because she’s a kind-hearted, good-natured soul—”
“Will you get out of this room?”
He lounged toward the door, one eyebrow raised quizzically. How could he insult her so, she thought in rage and pain. He was going out of his way to hurt and humiliate her and she writhed as she thought how she had longed for his homecoming, while all the time he was drunk and brawling with police in a bawdy house.
“Get out of this room and don’t ever come back in it. I told you that once before and you weren’t enough of a gentleman to understand. Hereafter I will lock my door.”
“Don’t bother.”
“I will lock it After the way you acted the other night—so drunk, so disgusting—”
“Come now, darling! Not disgusting, surely!”
“Get out.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going. And I promise I’ll never bother you again. That’s final. And I just thought I’d tell you that if my infamous conduct was too much for you to bear, I’ll let you have a divorce. Just give me Bonnie and I won’t contest it.”
“I would not think of disgracing the family with a divorce.”
“You’d disgrace it quick enough if Miss Melly was dead, wouldn’t you? It makes my head spin to think how quickly you’d divorce me.”
“Will you go?”