Атлант расправил плечи

           HankReardenstoodatawindowinadimrecessattheendofthedrawingroom.Hehopednoonewouldnoticehimforafewminutes.Hehadjustescapedfromamiddle-agedwomanwhohadbeentellinghimaboutherpsychicexperiences.Hestood,lookingout.Farinthedistance,theredglowofReardenSteelmovedinthesky.Hewatcheditforamoment’srelief.

           Heturnedtolookatthedrawingroom.Hehadneverlikedhishouse;ithadbeenLillian’schoice.Buttonight,theshiftingcolorsoftheeveningdressesdrownedouttheappearanceoftheroomandgaveitanairofbrilliantgaiety.Helikedtoseepeoplebeinggay,eventhoughhedidnotunderstandthisparticularmannerofenjoyment.

           Helookedattheflowers,atthesparksoflightonthecrystalglasses,atthenakedarmsandshouldersofwomen.Therewasacoldwindoutside,sweepingemptystretchesofland.Hesawthethinbranchesofatreebeingtwisted,likearmswavinginanappealforhelp.Thetreestoodagainsttheglowofthemills.

           Hecouldnotnamehissuddenemotion.Hehadnowordstostateitscause,itsquality,itsmeaning.Somepartofitwasjoy,butitwassolemnliketheactofbaringone’shead—hedidnotknowtowhom.

           Whenhesteppedbackintothecrowd,hewassmiling.Butthesmilevanishedabruptly;hesawtheentranceofanewguest:itwasDagnyTaggart.

           Lillianmovedforwardtomeether,studyingherwithcuriosity.Theyhadmetbefore,oninfrequentoccasions,andshefounditstrangetoseeDagnyTaggartwearinganeveninggown.