Атлант расправил плечи
Anti-Green
Shelaughed—buttherewasnoonetoseeherandtohearthenatureofherlaughter.Thefiguresrushingintotheglassenclosurewerescreamingatoneanother.ChickMorrisonwasyellingunprintablecursesatBertramScudder—BertramScudderwasshoutingthathehadbeenopposedtothewholeidea,buthadbeenorderedtodoit—JamesTaggartlookedlikeananimalbaringitsteeth,whilehesnarledattwoofMorrison’syoungestassistantsandavoidedthesnarlsofanolderthird.ThemusclesofLillianRearden’sfacehadanoddslackness,likethelimbsofananimallyingintheroad,intactbutdead.ThemoraleconditionerswereshriekingwhattheyguessedtheythoughtMr.Mouchwouldthink."WhatamItosaytothem?"theprogramannouncerwascrying,pointingatthemicrophone."Mr.Morrison,there’sanaudiencewaiting,whatamItosay?"Nobodyansweredhim.Theywerenotfightingoverwhattodo,butoverwhomtoblame.
NobodysaidawordtoDagnyorglancedinherdirection.Nobodystoppedher,whenshewalkedout.
Shesteppedintothefirsttaxicabinsight,givingtheaddressofherapartment.Asthecabstarted,shenoticedthatthedialoftheradioonthedriver’spanelwaslightedandsilent,cracklingwiththebrief,tensecoughsofstatic:itwastunedtoBertramScudder’sprogram.
Shelaybackagainsttheseat,feelingnothingbutthedesolationoftheknowledgethatthesweepofheractionhad,perhaps,sweptawaythemanwhomightneverwishtoseeheragain.
