Атлант расправил плечи

           Hesawaswitchmangoingbyandheasked,pointing,"Whoisthat?"

           "DagnyTaggart,"saidtheman,walkingon.

           Reardenfeltasifthewordsstruckhiminsidehisthroat.Hefeltthestartofacurrentthatcuthisbreathforamoment,thenwentslowlydownhisbody,carryinginitswakeasenseofweight,adrainedheavinessthatlefthimnocapacitybutone.Hewasaware—withanabnormalclarity—oftheplace,thewoman’sname,andeverythingitimplied,butallofithadrecededintosomeouterringandhadbecomeapressurethatlefthimaloneinthecenter,asthering’smeaningandessence—andhisonlyrealitywasthedesiretohavethiswoman,now,here,ontopoftheflatcarintheopensun—tohaveherbeforeawordwasspokenbetweenthem,asthefirstactoftheirmeeting,becauseitwouldsayeverythingandbecausetheyhadearneditlongago.

           Sheturnedherhead.Intheslowcurveofthemovement,hereyescametohisandstopped.Hefeltcertainthatshesawthenatureofhisglance,thatshewasheldbyit,yetdidnotnameittoherself.

           Hereyesmovedonandhesawherspeaktosomemanwhostoodbesidetheflatcar,takingnotes.

           Twothingsstruckhimtogether:hisreturntohisnormalreality,andtheshatteringimpactofguilt.Hefeltamoment’sapproachtothatwhichnomanmayfeelfullyandsurvive:asenseofself-hatred—themoreterriblebecausesomepartofhimrefusedtoacceptitandmadehimfeelguiltier.