1 Only one acre was being farmed now where once a hundred had been under the plow.
2 Gerald closed his eyes and, in the stillness of the unworked acres, he felt that he had come home.
3 She could not desert Tara; she belonged to the red acres far more than they could ever belong to her.
4 Yet the serene half-light over Tara's well-kept acres brought a measure of quiet to her disturbed mind.
5 They looked out across the endless acres of Gerald O'Hara's newly plowed cotton fields toward the red horizon.
6 Wealth came out of the curving furrows, and arrogance came too--arrogance built on green bushes and the acres of fleecy white.
7 An dey driv dey cannons an waggins cross de cotton till it plum ruint, cept a few acres over on de creek bottom dat dey din notice.
8 Old Slattery, who clung persistently to his few acres, in spite of repeated offers from Gerald and John Wilkes, was shiftless and whining.
9 She straightened her tired back and, looking over the browning autumn fields, she saw next year's crop standing sturdy and green, acre upon acre.
10 Gradually the plantation widened out, as Gerald bought more acres lying near him, and in time the white house became a reality instead of a dream.
11 Even Gerald was busy, for the first time in many years, for he could get no overseer to take Jonas Wilkerson's place and he was riding his own acres.
12 "I'll tear this house down, stone by stone, and burn it and sow every acre with salt before I see either of you put foot over this threshold," she shouted.
13 With the deep hunger of an Irishman who has been a tenant on the lands his people once had owned and hunted, he wanted to see his own acres stretching green before his eyes.
14 Tom Slattery owned no slaves, and he and his two oldest boys spasmodically worked their few acres of cotton, while the wife and younger children tended what was supposed to be a vegetable garden.
15 Through the window, in the faint light of the rising moon, Tara stretched before her, negroes gone, acres desolate, barns ruined, like a body bleeding under her eyes, like her own body, slowly bleeding.
16 There were too many Irish ancestors crowding behind Gerald's shoulders, men who had died on scant acres, fighting to the end rather than leave the homes where they had lived, plowed, loved, begotten sons.
17 Gerald was on excellent terms with all his neighbors in the County, except the MacIntoshes whose land adjoined his on the left and the Slatterys whose meager three acres stretched on his right along the swamp bottoms between the river and John Wilkes' plantation.
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