Атлант расправил плечи
Anti-Life
Whatdoyouwantofme?—sheasked,feelingasifshewererunning,butnowaywereopentoescape.Whatdoyouwantofme?—sheasked,lookingatthewholelongtortureofhermarriagethathadnotlastedthefullspanofoneyear.
"Whatdoyouwantofme?"sheaskedaloud—andsawthatshewassittingatthetableinherdiningroom,lookingatJim,athisfeverishface,andatadryingstainofwateronthetable.
Shedidnotknowhowlongaspanofsilencehadstretchedbetweenthem,shewasstartledbyherownvoiceandbythe--questionshehadnotintendedtoutter.Shedidnotexpecthimtounderstandit,hehadneverseemedtounderstandmuchsimplerqueries—andsheshookherhead,strugglingtorecapturetherealityofthepresent.
Shewasstartledtoseehimlookingatherwithatouchofderision,asifheweremockingherestimateofhisunderstanding.
"Love,"heanswered.
Shefeltherselfsaggingwithhopelessness,inthefaceofthatanswerwhichwasatoncesosimpleandsomeaningless.
"Youdon’tloveme,"hesaidaccusingly.Shedidnotanswer."Youdon’tlovemeoryouwouldn’tasksuchaquestion."
"Ididloveyouonce,"shesaiddully,"butitwasn’twhatyouwanted.Ilovedyouforyourcourage,yourambition,yourability.Butitwasn’treal,anyofit."
Hislowerlipswelledalittleinafaint,contemptuousthrust."Whatashabbyideaoflove!"hesaid.