dumkeduty1973

@@@@@ Dance cards? They must be dance cardsScarlett had heard Mammy talk about balls in Savannah when Ellen O 'Hara was a girl, but she'd never quite believed that parties were so peaceful that a girl looked in a book to see who she was supposed to dance with Why, the Tarleton twins and the Fontaine boys would have split their britches laughing if anyone told them they had to write their names on a tiny piece of paper with a little pencil so dinky that it would break in a real man's fingers! She wasn't even sure she wanted to dance with the kind of pantywaist who'd be willing to do thatYes, she was! She was sure she'd dance with the devil himself, horns and tail and all, just to be able to danceIt seemed like ten years, not one, since the Masquerade Ball in Atlanta"I'm so happy to be here," said Scarlett to Minnie Wentworth, and her voice throbbed with sincerityShe smiled at all the other Wentworths, each in turn, and then she was through the lineShe turned toward the dancing, her feet already moving in time to the music, and she drew in her breathOh, it was so beautiful-so strange and yet so familiar, like a dream she only half-remembered The candlelit room was alive with music, with the colors and rustling of whirling skirtsAlong the walls dowagers were sitting in fragile gold-painted chairs just as they always had, whispering behind their fans to one another about the things they had always whispered about: the young people who were dancing too close together, the latest horror story of someone's daughter's prolonged childbirth, the newest scandal about their dearest friendsWaiters in full-dress suits moved from group to group of men and women who weren't dancing with silver trays of filled glasses and frosted silver julep cupsThere was a hum of blended voices, punctuated by laughter, high and deep, the age-old beloved noise of fortunate light-hearted people enjoying themselves It was as if the old world, the beautiful carefree world of her youth, still existed, as if nothing was changed, and there had never been a WarHer sharp eyes could see the scabby paint on the walls and the spur-gouges in the floor under the layers of wax, but she refused to noticeBetter to enter the illusion, to forget the War and the Yankee patrols on the street outsideThere was music and there was dancing and Rhett had promised to be niceNothing more was neededRhett was more than merely nice; he was charmingAnd no one on earth could be more charming than Rhett when he wanted to be Unfortunately he was just as charming to everyone else as he was to herShe alternated wildly between pride that every other woman envied her and raging jealousy that Rhett was paying attention to so many othersHe was attentive to her, she couldn't accuse him of neglect But he was attentive to his mother, too, and to Rosemary, and to dozens of other women who were dreary old matrons in Scarlett's opinion She told herself that she mustn't care, and after a while she did