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“This is John Galt speaking”
"You’retheonlyonewhocan!He’syourlover,isn’the?...Oh,don’tlooklikethat!It’snotimeforsqueamishness!
It’snotimeforanythingexceptthatwe’vegottohavehim!Youmustknowwhereheis!Youcanfindhim!Youmustreachhimandbringhimback!"
Thewayshenowlookedathimwasworsethanhersmile—shelookedasifshewereseeinghimnakedandwouldnotendurethesightmuchlonger."Ican’tbringhimback,"shesaid,notraisinghervoice.
"AndIwouldn’t,ifIcould.Nowgetoutofhere."
"Butthenationalcatastrophe—"
"Getout."
Shedidnotnoticehisexit.Shestoodaloneinthemiddleofherlivingroom,herheaddropping,hershoulderssagging,whileshewassmiling,asmileofpain,oftenderness,ofgreetingtoHankRearden.Shewondereddimlywhysheshouldfeelsogladthathehadfoundliberation,socertainthathewasright,andyetrefuseherselfthesamedeliverance.Twosentenceswerebeatinginhermind;onewasthetriumphantsweepof:He’sfree,he’soutoftheirreach!—theotherwaslikeaprayerofdedication:There’sstillachancetowin,butletmebetheonlyvictim...
Itwasstrange—shethought,inthedaysthatfollowed,lookingatthemenaroundher—thatcatastrophehadmadethemawareofHankReardenwithanintensitythathisachievementshadnotaroused,asifthepathsoftheirconsciousnesswereopentodisaster,butnottovalue.
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