Атлант расправил плечи
The Face without Pain or Fear or Guilt
Heturnedbacktohisnotepad,feelingangerathimself,sensingthathehadbrokenhisownunstatedcommandment:Don’tmakeitharderforher.HeshouldnothavetoldheraboutDanConway,hethought;heshouldnothavesaidanythingtoremindthembothofthedespairtheywouldfeel,iftheyfelt.Hewonderedwhatwasthematterwithhim:hethoughtitinexcusablethatheshouldfindhisdisciplineslippingjustbecausethiswasaroom,notanoffice.
Shewentonspeaking—andhelistened,lookingdownathispad,makingabriefnotationonceinawhile.Hedidnotpermithimselftolookatheragain.
Shethrewthedoorofherclosetopen,jerkedasuitoffahangerandfoldeditrapidly,whilehervoicewentonwithunhurriedprecision.
Hedidnotlookup,hewasawareofheronlybymeansofsound:thesoundoftheswiftmovementsandofthemeasuredvoice.Heknewwhatwaswrongwithhim,hethought;hedidnotwanthertoleave,hedidnotwanttoloseheragain,aftersobriefamomentofreunion.Buttoindulgeanypersonalloneliness,atatimewhenheknewhowdesperatelytherailroadneededherinColorado,wasanactofdisloyaltyhehadnevercommittedbefore—andhefeltavague,desolatesenseofguilt.
