streets naked from dawn

“You make me sick, Scarlett O’Hara, talking about being protected! You don’t care about being protected! If you did you’d never have exposed yourself as you have done all these months, prissing yourself about this town, showing yourself off to strange men, hoping they’ll admire you! What happened to you this afternoon was just what you deserved and if there was any justice you’d have gotten worse.” 　“Oh, India, hush!” cried Melanie. 　“Let her talk,” cried Scarlett “I’m enjoying it. I always knew she hated me and she was too much of a hypocrite to admit it. If she thought anyone would admire her, she’d be walking the streets naked from dawn till dark.” 　India was on her feet her lean body quivering with insult. 　“I do hate you,” she said in a clear but trembling voice. “But it hasn’t been hypocrisy that’s kept me quiet It’s something you can’t understand, not possessing any—any common courtesy, common good breeding. It’s the realization that if all of us don’t hang together and submerge our own small hates, we can’t expect to beat the Yankees. But you—you—you’ve done all you could to lower the prestige of decent people—working and bringing shame on a good husband, giving Yankees and riffraff the right to laugh at us and make insulting remarks about our lack of gentility. Yankees don’t know that you aren’t one of us and have never been. Yankees haven’t sense enough to know that you haven’t any gentility. And when you’ve ridden about the woods exposing yourself to attack, you’ve exposed every well-behaved woman in town to attack by putting temptation in the ways of darkies and mean white trash. And you’ve put our men folks’ lives in danger because they’ve got to—” 　“My God, India!” cried Melanie and even in her wrath, Scarlett was stunned to hear Melanie take the Lord’s name in vain. “You must hush! She doesn’t know and she—you must hush! You promised—” 　“Oh, girls!” pleaded Miss Pittypat, her lips trembling.