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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 127/927
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"
I
am
waiting
breathlessly
.
"
"
I
think
you
are
horrid
,
"
she
said
,
helplessly
,
dropping
her
eyes
.
He
leaned
down
across
the
counter
until
his
mouth
was
near
her
ear
and
hissed
,
in
a
very
creditable
imitation
of
the
stage
villains
who
appeared
infrequently
at
the
Athenaeum
Hall
:
"
Fear
not
,
fair
lady
!
Your
guilty
secret
is
safe
with
me
!
"
"
Oh
,
"
she
whispered
,
feverishly
,
"
how
can
you
say
such
things
!
"
"
I
only
thought
to
ease
your
mind
.
What
would
you
have
me
say
?
'
Be
mine
,
beautiful
female
,
or
I
will
reveal
all
?
'
"
She
met
his
eyes
unwillingly
and
saw
they
were
as
teasing
as
a
small
boy
's
.
Suddenly
she
laughed
.
It
was
such
a
silly
situation
,
after
all
.
He
laughed
too
,
and
so
loudly
that
several
of
the
chaperons
in
the
corner
looked
their
way
.
Observing
how
good
a
time
Charles
Hamilton
's
widow
appeared
to
be
having
with
a
perfect
stranger
,
they
put
their
heads
together
disapprovingly
.
There
was
a
roll
of
drums
and
many
voices
cried
"
Sh
!
"
as
Dr.
Meade
mounted
the
platform
and
spread
out
his
arms
for
quiet
.
"
We
must
all
give
grateful
thanks
to
the
charming
ladies
whose
indefatigable
and
patriotic
efforts
have
made
this
bazaar
not
only
a
pecuniary
success
,
"
he
began
,
"
but
have
transformed
this
rough
hall
into
a
bower
of
loveliness
,
a
fit
garden
for
the
charming
rosebuds
I
see
about
me
.
"
Everyone
clapped
approvingly
.
"
The
ladies
have
given
their
best
,
not
only
of
their
time
but
of
the
labor
of
their
hands
,
and
these
beautiful
objects
in
the
booths
are
doubly
beautiful
,
made
as
they
are
by
the
fair
hands
of
our
charming
Southern
women
.
"
