She opened her eyes and saw that the frightening glow had gone from his face.
But somehow she could not meet his gaze and she dropped her eyes in a rush of tingling confusion.
When he spoke his voice was very calm. "You meant it?
You don't want to take it back?"
"No."
"It's not just because I've--what is the phrase?--'swept you off your feet' by my--er--ardor?"
She could not answer for she did not know what to say, nor could she meet his eyes.
He put a hand under her chin and lifted her face.
"I told you once that I could stand anything from you except a lie. And now I want the truth.
Just why did you say Yes?"
Still the words would not come, but, a measure of poise returning, she kept her eyes demurely down and tucked the corners of her mouth into a little smile.
"Look at me.
Is it my money?"
"Why, Rhett!
What a question!"
"Look up and don't try to sweet talk me.
I'm not Charles or Frank or any of the County boys to be taken in by your fluttering lids.
Is it my money?"
"Well--yes, a part."
"A part?"
He did not seem annoyed.
He drew a swift breath and with an effort wiped from his eyes the eagerness her words had brought, an eagerness which she was too confused to see.
"Well," she floundered helplessly, "money does help, you know, Rhett, and God knows Frank didn't leave any too much.
But then-- well, Rhett, we do get on, you know.
And you are the only man I ever saw who could stand the truth from a woman, and it would be nice having a husband who didn't think me a silly fool and expect me to tell lies--and--well, I am fond of you."
"Fond of me?"
"Well," she said fretfully, "if I said I was madly in love with you, I'd be lying and what's more, you'd know it."
"Sometimes I think you carry your truth telling too far, my pet.
Don't you think, even if it was a lie, that it would be appropriate for you to say
'I love you, Rhett,' even if you didn't mean it?"
What was he driving at, she wondered, becoming more confused.
He looked so queer, eager, hurt, mocking.
He took his hands from her and shoved them deep in his trousers pockets and she saw him ball his fists.
"If it costs me a husband, I'll tell the truth," she thought grimly, her blood up as always when he baited her.
"Rhett, it would be a lie, and why should we go through all that foolishness?
I'm fond of you, like I said.
You know how it is.
You told me once that you didn't love me but that we had a lot in common.
Both rascals, was the way you--"
"Oh, God!" he whispered rapidly, turning his head away.
"To be taken in my own trap!"
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," and he looked at her and laughed, but it was not a pleasant laugh.
"Name the day, my dear," and he laughed again and bent and kissed her hands.
She was relieved to see his mood pass and good humor apparently return, so she smiled too.
He played with her hand for a moment and grinned up at her.
"Did you ever in your novel reading come across the old situation of the disinterested wife falling in love with her own husband?"
"You know I don't read novels," she said and, trying to equal his jesting mood, went on: "Besides, you once said it was the height of bad form for husbands and wives to love each other."
"I once said too God damn many things," he retorted abruptly and rose to his feet.
"Don't swear."