Атлант расправил плечи
The Utopia of Greed
"
Itdidnotseemtoalterthenatureofhisglance;itmerelyseemedtostressitssatisfaction,asifthiswerewhathehadwishedhertosay—exceptthatshewasnotcertainwhethersatisfactionwasthenameforthethingshesawinhiseyesandfullycertainthathehadnotwishedhertosayanything.
Beyondthewindow,attheedgeofthetable,stormcloudshadwipedoutthelastremnantsoflightintheeasternsky.Shewonderedwhyshefeltasuddenreluctancetolookout,whyshefeltasifshewantedtoclingtothegoldenpatchesoflightonthewoodofthetable,onthebutteredcrustoftherolls,onthecoppercoffeepot,onGalt’shair—toclingastoasmallislandontheedgeofavoid.
Thensheheardherownvoiceaskingsuddenly,involuntarily,andsheknewthatthiswasthetreasonshehadwantedtoescape,"Doyoupermitanycommunicationwiththeoutsideworld?"
"No."
"Notany?Notevenanotewithoutreturnaddress?"
"No."
"Notevenamessage,ifnosecretofyoursweregivenaway?"
"Notfromhere.Notduringthismonth.Nottooutsidersatanytime."
Shenoticedthatshewasavoidinghiseyes,andsheforcedherselftoliftherheadandfacehim.Hisglancehadchanged;itwaswatchful,unmoving,implacablyperceptive.
