Атлант расправил плечи
The Egoist
Sheheardtheslidingwailofatugboatsomewhereontheriver.Thensheknewthatshehadmissedsomespanoftime,becausehernextawarenesswasnotlikeamomentofawakening,butlikeamomentofbirth:asiftwosoundswerepullingheroutofavoid,thesoundofastepbehindthedoorandthesoundofalockbeingturned—butshewasnotpresentuntilthemomentwhensuddenlytherewasnodoorbeforeherandthefigurestandingonthethresholdwasJohnGalt,standingcasuallyinhisowndoorway,dressedinslacksandshirt,theangleofhiswaistlineslantingfaintlyagainstthelightbehindhim.
Sheknewthathiseyesweregraspingthismoment,thensweepingoveritspastanditsfuture,thatalightningprocessofcalculationwasbringingitintohisconsciouscontrol—andbythetimeafoldofhisshirtmovedwiththemotionofhisbreath,heknewthesum—andthesumwasasmileofradiantgreeting.
Shewasnowunabletomove.Heseizedherarm,hejerkedherinsidetheroom,shefelttheclingingpressureofhismouth,shefelttheslendernessofhisbodythroughthesuddenlyalienstiffnessofhercoat.
Shesawthelaughterinhiseyes,shefeltthetouchofhismouthagainandagain,shewassagginginhisarms,shewasbreathingingasps,asifshehadnotbreathedforfiveflightsofstairs,herfacewaspressedtotheanglebetweenhisneckandshoulder,toholdhim,toholdhimwithherarms,herhandsandtheskinofhercheek.
"John...you’realive...
