Атлант расправил плечи
Anti-Green
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Itwastwohourslater—whenshewasaloneatherdesk,bentoversheetsofpaperthatborenothingbutfigures,yetwerelikeamotionpicturefilmunrollingtotellherthewholestoryoftherailroadinthepastfourweeks—thatthebuzzerrangandhersecretary’svoicesaid,"Mrs.Reardentoseeyou,MissTaggart."
"Mr.Rearden?"sheaskedincredulously,unabletobelieveeither.
"No.Mrs.Rearden."
Sheletamomentpass,thensaid,"Pleaseaskhertocomein."
TherewassomepeculiartouchofemphasisinLillianRearden’sbearingwhensheenteredandwalkedtowardthedesk.Sheworeatailoredsuit,withaloose,brightbowhangingcasuallysidewiseforanoteofelegantincongruity,andasmallhattiltedatanangleconsideredsmartbyvirtueofbeingconsideredamusing;herfacewasashadetoosmooth,herstepsashadetooslow,andshewalkedalmostasifshewereswingingherhips.
"Howdoyoudo,MissTaggart,"shesaidinalazilygraciousvoice,adrawing-roomvoicewhichseemedtostrike,inthatoffice,thesamestyleofincongruityashersuitandherbow.
Dagnyinclinedherheadgravely.
Lillianglancedabouttheoffice;herglancehadthesamestyleofamusementasherhat:anamusementpurportingtoexpressmaturitybytheconvictionthatlifecouldbenothingbutridiculous.
"Pleasesitdown,"saidDagny.
