Атлант расправил плечи
The Utopia of Greed
"Whateveranyofushaspaidforthisbattle,"saidGalt,"you’retheonewho’stakenthehardestbeating,aren’tyou?"
"Who?I?"Franciscogrinnedwithshocked,incredulousamusement.
"Certainlynot!What’sthematterwithyou?"Hechuckledandadded,"Pity,John?"
"No,"saidGaltfirmly.
ShesawFranciscowatchinghimwithafaint,puzzledfrown—becauseGalthadsaidit,looking,notathim,butather.
TheemotionalsumthatstruckherasanimmediateimpressionofFrancisco’shouse,whensheentereditforthefirsttime,wasnotthesumshehadoncedrawnfromthesightofitssilent,lockedexterior.Shefelt,notasenseoftragicloneliness,butofinvigoratingbrightness.Theroomswerebareandcrudelysimple,thehouseseemedbuiltwiththeskill,thedecisivenessandtheimpatiencetypicalofFrancisco;itlookedlikeafrontiersman’sshantythrowntogethertoserveasamerespringboardforalongflightintothefuture—afuturewheresogreatafieldofactivitylaywaitingthatnotimecouldbewastedonthecomfortofitsstart.Theplacehadthebrightness,notofahome,butofafreshwoodenscaffoldingerectedtoshelterthebirthofaskyscraper.
Francisco,inshirtsleeves,stoodinthemiddleofhistwelve-footsquarelivingroom,withthelookofahostinapalace.Ofalltheplaceswhereshehadeverseenhim,thiswasthebackgroundthatseemedmostproperlyhis.
