Атлант расправил плечи

           "I’llsendthedoctorover,"saidMulligan,drivingoff,whileGaltcarriedherupthepath.

           "Yourhouse?"sheasked.

           "Mine,"heanswered,kickingthedooropen.

           Hecarriedheracrossthethresholdintotheglisteningspaceofhislivingroom,whereshaftsofsunlighthitwallsofpolishedpine.Shesawafewpiecesoffurnituremadebyhand,aceilingofbarerafters,anarchwayopenuponasmallkitchenwithroughshelves,abarewoodentableandtheastonishingsightofchromiumglitteringonanelectricstove;theplacehadtheprimitivesimplicityofafrontiersman’scabin,reducedtoessentialnecessities,butreducedwithasuper-modernskill.

           Hecarriedheracrossthesunraysintoasmallguestroomandplacedherdownonabed.Shenoticedawindowopenuponalongslantofrockystepsandpinesgoingoffintothesky.Shenoticedsmallstreaksthatlookedlikeinscriptionscutintothewoodofthewalls,afewscatteredlinesthatseemedmadebydifferenthandwritings;shecouldnotdistinguishthewords.Shenoticedanotherdoor,lefthalf-open;itledtohisbedroom.

           "AmIaguesthereoraprisoner?"sheasked.

           "Thechoicewillbeyours,MissTaggart."

           "IcanmakenochoicewhenI’mdealingwithastranger."

           "Butyou’renot.Didn’tyounamearailroadlineafterme?"

           "Oh!...Yes..."Itwasthesmalljoltofanotherconnectionfallingintoplace.