1 Scarlett, I'm not upbraiding you, accusing you, reproaching you.
2 Scarlett would have infinitely preferred bellowing oaths and accusations.
3 There had been something helpless and pathetic in that still face which had accused her.
4 And yet he would torment and insult her and deny that such was his intent, should she accuse him.
5 Then perhaps she could forget Frank's sunken face accusing her of ruining his life and then killing him.
6 No reproach was there, no accusation and no fear--only an anxiety that she might not find strength for words.
7 But until he spoke, she would not know what to say for she did not know exactly what accusation he intended to make.
8 "I'm always your little girl," Scarlett would say and bury her head upon Ellen's breast, her guilt rising up to accuse her.
9 And thanks to the incitement of the Freedmen's Bureau, negroes could always be found who were willing to bring accusations.
10 Pittypat fluttered, too upset by the accusation to recall that Mrs. Merriwether had also been Rhett Butler's hostess on several occasions.
11 Rhett always vowed he knew nothing about them and accused her, in a very unrefined way, of having a secret admirer, usually the be-whiskered Grandpa Merriwether.
12 Now she would willingly have humbled herself and admitted that she had only hurled that accusation at him out of her misery, hoping by hurting him to alleviate her own hurt.
13 She had listened with calm contempt while these women had underrated the Confederate Army, blackguarded Jeff Davis and accused Southerners of murder and torture of their slaves.
14 But she could not accuse him now, could not rage at him, demand fidelity or try to shame him, any more than she could bring herself to apologize for accusing him of Bonnie's death.
15 But she could not accuse him now, could not rage at him, demand fidelity or try to shame him, any more than she could bring herself to apologize for accusing him of Bonnie's death.
16 He accused himself of deeds she did not understand; he mumbled the name of Belle Watling and then he shook her with his violence as he cried: "I've killed Scarlett, I've killed her."
17 To save her own reputation and his wife's happiness, India had to be sacrificed, forced into the light of a lying, half-crazed, jealous old maid--India who was absolutely justified in every suspicion she had ever harbored and every accusing word she had uttered.
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