Атлант расправил плечи

           Ohyes,heremembered,tolookforthetime.

           Heslumpedsidewiseoverthearmofthechairandcaughtsightofaclockonadistantbuilding:itwastwentyminutespastnoon.

           Throughtheopendoorofthebedroom,heheardBettyPopewashingherteethinthebathroombeyond.Hergirdlelayonthefloor,bythesideofachairwiththerestofherclothes;thegirdlewasafadedpink,withbrokenstrandsofrubber.

           "Hurryup,willyou?"hecalledirritably."I’vegottodress."

           Shedidnotanswer.Shehadleftthedoorofthebathroomopen;hecouldhearthesoundofgargling.

           WhydoIdothosethings?—hethought,rememberinglastnight.Butitwastoomuchtroubletolookforananswer.

           BettyPopecameintothelivingroom,draggingthefoldsofasatinnegligeeharlequin-checkeredinorangeandpurple.Shelookedawfulinanegligee,thoughtTaggart;shewaseversomuchbetterinaridinghabit,inthephotographsonthesocietypagesofthenewspapers.Shewasalankygirl,allbonesandloosejointsthatdidnotmovesmoothly.Shehadahomelyface,abadcomplexionandalookofimpertinentcondescensionderivedfromthefactthatshebelongedtooneoftheverybestfamilies.

           "Aw,hell!"shesaidatnothinginparticular,stretchingherselftolimberup."Jim,whereareyournailclippers?I’vegottotrimmytoe-nails."

           "Idon’tknow.Ihaveaheadache.Doitathome."

           "Youlookunappetizinginthemorning,"shesaidindifferently."Youlooklikeasnail."

           "Whydon’tyoushutup?"

           Shewanderedaimlesslyabouttheroom.