Атлант расправил плечи
Account Overdrawn
Andthenshesawthatthelastcarofthetrainwasaprivatecar,andthatthefigurestandingatitsdoor,talkingtosomestationofficial—afigurewearing,notminksandveils,butaroughsportscoatthatstressedtheincomparablegraceofaslenderbodyintheconfidentpostureofthisstation’sownerandcenter—wasDagnyTaggart.ThenLillianReardenunderstood.
"Lillian!What’sthematter?"
SheheardRearden’svoice,shefelthishandgraspingherarm,shesawhimlookingatherasonelooksattheobjectofasuddenemergency.Hewaslookingatablankfaceandanunfocusedglanceofterror.
"Whathappened?Whatareyoudoinghere?"
"I...Hello,Henry...Ijustcametomeetyou...Nospecialreason...Ijustwantedtomeetyou."Theterrorwasgonefromherface,butshespokeinastrange,flatvoice."Iwantedtoseeyou,itwasanimpulse,asuddenimpulseandIcouldn’tresistit,because—"
"Butyoulook...lookedill."
"No...No,maybeIfeltfaint,it’sstuffyhere...Icouldn’tresistcoming,becauseitmademethinkofthedayswhenyouwouldhavebeengladtoseeme...itwasamoment’sillusiontorecreateformyself..."Thewordssoundedlikeamemorizedlesson.
Sheknewthatshehadtospeak,whilehermindwasfightingtograspthefullmeaningofherdiscovery.
