“But, Ashley, what are you afraid of?''Oh, nameless things. Things which sound very silly when they areput into words. Mostly of having life suddenly become too real, ofbeing brought into personal, too personal, contact with some of thesimple facts of life. It isn't that I mind splitting logs here inthe mud, but I do mind what it stands for. I do mind, very much,the loss of the beauty of the old life I loved. Scarlett, beforethe war, life was beautiful. There was a glamor to it, aperfection and a completeness and a symmetry to it like Grecianart. Maybe it wasn't so to everyone. I know that now. But to me,living at Twelve Oaks, there was a real beauty to living. Ibelonged in that life. I was a part of it. And now it is gone andI am out of place in this new life, and I am afraid. Now, I knowthat in the old days it was a shadow show I watched. I avoidedeverything which was not shadowy, people and situations which weretoo real, too vital. I resented their intrusion.”