Атлант расправил плечи
The Non-commercial
Hoursofit,hethought,hourstospendwatchingtheeyesoftheguestsgettingheavywithboredomiftheyweresoberorglazingintoanimbecilestareiftheyweren‘t,andpretendthathenoticedneither,andstraintothinkofsomethingtosaytothem,whenhehadnothingtosay-whileheneededhoursofinquirytofindasuccessorforthesuperintendentofhisrollingmillswhohadresignedsuddenly,withoutexplanation—hehadtodoitatonce—menofthatsortweresohardtofind—andifanythinghappenedtobreaktheflowoftherollingmills—itwastheTaggartrailthatwasbeingrolled....Herememberedthesilentreproach,thelookofaccusation,long-bearingpatienceandscorn,whichhealwayssawintheeyesofhisfamilywhentheycaughtsomeevidenceofhispassionforhisbusiness—andthefutilityofhissilence,ofhishopethattheywouldnotthinkReardenSteelmeantasmuchtohimasitdid—likeadrunkardpretendingindifferencetoliquor,amongpeoplewhowatchhimwiththescornfulamusementoftheirfullknowledgeofhisshamefulweakness...."Iheardyoulastnightcominghomeattwointhemorning,wherewereyou?"hismothersayingtohimatthedinnertable,andLilliananswering,"Why,atthemills,ofcourse,"asanotherwifewouldsay,"Atthecornersaloon."...OrLillianaskinghim,thehintofawisehalf-smileonherface,"WhatwereyoudoinginNewYorkyesterday?""Itwasabanquetwiththeboys.""Business?""Yes."
