近期热门的优选书刊《飘》，轻松有趣温柔的治愈你(73)

Scarlett knew that she, too, was greatly changed. Otherwise she could not have done the things she had done since she was last in Atlanta；otherwise she would not now be contemplating doing what she desperately hoped to do.But there was a difference in their hardness and hers and just what the difference was, she could not, for the moment, tell.Perhaps it was that there was nothing she would not do, and there were so many things these people would rather die than do.Perhaps it was that they were without hope but still smiling at life, bowing gracefully and passing it by.And this Scarlett could not do.
She could not ignore life. She had to live it and it was too brutal, too hostile, for her even to try to gloss over its harshness with a smile.Of the sweetness and courage and unyielding pride of her friends, Scarlett saw nothing.She saw only a silly stiff-neckedness which observed facts but smiled and refused to look them in the face.
As she stared at the dancers, flushed from the reel, she wondered if things drove them as she was driven, dead lovers, maimed husbands, children who were hungry, acres slipping away, beloved roofs that sheltered strangers. But, of course, they were driven！She knew their circumstances only a little less thoroughly than she knew her own.Their losses had been her losses, their privations her privations, their problems her same problems.Yet they had reacted differently to them.The faces she was seeing in the room were not faces；