Атлант расправил плечи
The Exploiters and the Exploited
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"Yes,isn’tit?"
"GoingtodriveitbacktoNewYork?"
"No.I’mhavingitshipped.Iflewmyplanedownhere."
"Oh,youdid?IdrovedownfromCheyenne—Ihadtoseetheline—butI’manxioustogethomeasfastaspossible.Wouldyoutakemealong?CanIflybackwithyou?"
Hedidnotansweratonce.Shenoticedtheemptymomentofapause."I’msorry,"hesaid;shewonderedwhethersheimaginedthenoteofabruptnessinhisvoice."I’mnotflyingbacktoNewYork.I’mgoingtoMinnesota."
"Ohwell,thenI’lltrytogetonanairliner,ifIcanfindonetoday."
Shewatchedhiscarvanishdownthewindingroad.Shedrovetotheairportanhourlater.Theplacewasasmallfieldatthebottomofabreakinthedesolatechainofmountains.Therewerepatchesofsnowonthehard,pittedearth.Thepoleofabeaconstoodatoneside,trailingwirestotheground;theotherpoleshadbeenknockeddownbyastorm.
Alonelyattendantcametomeether."No,MissTaggart,"hesaidregretfully,"noplanestilldayaftertomorrow.There’sonlyonetranscontinentallinereverytwodays,youknow,andtheonethatwasduetodayhasbeengrounded,downinArizona.Enginetrouble,asusual."Headded,"It’sapityyoudidn’tgethereabitsooner.Mr.ReardentookoffforNewYork,inhisprivateplane,justalittlewhileago.
