Атлант расправил плечи
The Face without Pain or Fear or Guilt
Ohyes,alothashappened,butwhatdifferencedoesitmakenow?
...Yes,she’sback...Whatelsedoyouwantmetosayaboutit?...Howdidyouknowshe’sback?Ohwell,Isupposethewholecompanyknewitwithinthefirsttenminutes...No,Idon’tknowwhetherI’mgladthatshe’sback...Sure,she’llsavetherailroad—foranotheryearormonth...Whatdoyouwantmetosay?...
No,shedidn’t.Shedidn’ttellmewhatshe’scountingon.Shedidn’ttellmewhatshethoughtorfelt...Well,howdoyousupposeshe’dfeel?It’shellforher—allright,forme,too!Onlymykindofhellismyownfault...No.Nothing.Ican’ttalkaboutit—talk?—Imustn’teventhinkaboutit,I’vegottostopit,stopthinkingofherand—ofher,Imean."
Heremainedsilentandhewonderedwhytheworker’seyes—theeyesthatalwaysseemedtoseeeverythingwithinhim—madehimfeeluneasytonight.Heglanceddownatthetable,andhenoticedthebuttsofmanycigarettesamongtheremnantsoffoodontheworker’splate.
"Areyouintrouble,too?"askedEddie."Oh,justthatyou’vesathereforalongtimetonight,haven’tyou?...Forme?Whyshouldyouhavewantedtowaitforme?...
