She tried to wrench them away but he held them hard, running his thumbs over the calluses.
“These are not the hands of a lady,” he said and tossed them into her lap.
“Oh, shut up!” she cried, feeling a momentary intense relief at being able to speak her feelings. “Whose business is it what I do with my hands?”
What a fool I am, she thought vehemently. I should have borrowed or stolen Aunt Pitty’s gloves. But I didn’t realize my hands looked so bad. Of course, he would notice them. And now I’ve lost my temper and probably ruined everything. Oh, to have this happen when he was right at the point of a declaration!
“Your hands are certainly no business of mine,” said Rhett coolly and lounged back in his chair indolently, his face a smooth blank.
So he was going to be difficult. Well, she’d have to bear it meekly, much as she disliked it, if she expected to snatch victory from this debacle. Perhaps if she sweet-talked him—“I think you’re real rude to throw off on my poor hands. Just because I went riding last week without my gloves and ruined them—”
“Riding, hell!” he said in the same level voice. “You’ve been working with those hands, working like a nigger. What’s the answer? Why did you lie to me about everything being nice at Tara?”
“Now, Rhett—”
“Suppose we get down to the truth. What is the real purpose of your visit? Almost, I was persuaded by your coquettish airs that you cared something about me and were sorry for me.”
“Oh, I am sorry! Indeed—”
“No, you aren’t. They can hang me higher than Haman for all you care. It’s written as plainly on your face as hard work is written on your hands. You wanted something from me and you wanted it badly enough to put on quite a show. Why didn’t you come out in the open and tell me what it was? You’d have stood a much better chance of getting it, for if there’s one virtue I value in women it’s frankness. But no, you had to come jingling your earbobs and pouting and frisking like a prostitute with a prospective client.”
He did not raise his voice at the last words or emphasize them in any way but to Scarlett they cracked like a whiplash, and with despair she saw the end of her hopes of getting him to propose marriage. Had he exploded with rage and injured vanity or upbraided her, as other men would have done, she could have handled him. But the deadly quietness of his voice frightened her, left her utterly at a loss as to her next move. Although he was a prisoner and the Yankees were in the next room, it came to her suddenly that Rhett Butler was a dangerous man to run afoul of.
“I suppose my memory is getting faulty. I should have recalled that you are just like me and that you never do anything without an ulterior motive. Now, let me see. What could you have had up your sleeve, Mrs. Hamilton? It isn’t possible that you were so misguided as to think I would propose matrimony?”
Her face went crimson and she did not answer.
“But you can’t have forgotten my oft-repeated remark that I am not a marrying man?”
When she did not speak, he said with sudden violence:
“You hadn’t forgotten? Answer me.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” she said wretchedly.
“What a gambler you are, Scarlett,” he jeered. “You took a chance that my incarceration away from female companionship would put me in such a state I’d snap at you like a trout at a worm.”
And that’s what you did, thought Scarlett with inward rage, and if it hadn’t been for my hands—“Now, we have most of the truth, everything except your reason. See if you can tell me the truth about why you wanted to lead me into wedlock.”
There was a suave, almost teasing note in his voice and she took heart. Perhaps everything wasn’t lost, after all. Of course, she had ruined any hope of marriage but, even in her despair, she was glad. There was something about this immobile man which frightened her, so that now the thought of marrying him was fearful. But perhaps if she was clever and played on his sympathies and his memories, she could secure a loan. She pulled her face into a placating and childlike expression.
“Oh, Rhett, you can help me so much—if you’ll just be sweet.”
“There’s nothing I like better than being—sweet.”
“Rhett, for old friendship’s sake, I want you to do me a favor.”
“So, at last the horny-handed lady comes to her real mission. I feared that ‘visiting the sick and the imprisoned’ was not your proper role. What do you want? Money?”
The bluntness of his question ruined all hopes of leading up to the matter in any circuitous and sentimental way.
“Don’t be mean, Rhett,” she coaxed. “I do want some money. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars.”
“The truth at last. Talking love and thinking money. How truly feminine! Do you need the money badly?”
“Oh, ye— Well, not so terribly but I could use it”
“Three “hundred dollars. That’s a vast amount of money. What do you want it for?”
“To pay taxes on Tara.”
“So you want to borrow some money. Well, since you’re so businesslike, I’ll be businesslike too. What collateral will you give me?”
“What what?”
“Collateral. Security on my investment. Of course, I don’t want to lose all that money.” His voice was deceptively smooth, almost silky, but she did not notice. Maybe everything would turn out nicely after all.
“My earrings.”
“I’m not interested in earrings.”
“I’ll give you a mortgage on Tara.”
“Now just what would I do with a farm?”
“Well, you could—you could—it’s a good plantation. And you wouldn’t lose. I’d pay you back out of next year’s cotton.”
“I’m not so sure.” He tilted back in his chair and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Cotton prices are dropping. Times are so hard and money’s so tight.”
“Oh, Rhett, you are teasing me! You know you have millions!”
There was a warm dancing malice in his eyes as he surveyed her.
“So everything is going nicely and you don’t need the money very badly. Well, I’m glad to hear that. I like to know that all is well with old friends.”
“Oh, Rhett, for God’s sake ...” she began desperately, her courage and control breaking,“Do lower your voice. You don’t want the Yankees to hear you, I hope. Did anyone ever tell you you had eyes like a cat—a cat in the dark?”
