Атлант расправил плечи
The Exploiters and the Exploited
Jimlayonthecouch,withatowelwrappedforascarfaroundhisneck.Shesawastale,filledashtrayonachairbesidehim,abottleofwhisky,awiltedpapercup,andtwo-day-oldnewspapersscatteredaboutthefloor.Aportraitoftheirgrandfatherhungoverthefireplace,fullfigure,witharailroadbridgeinthefadingbackground.
"Ihavenotimeforarguments,Jim."
"Itwasyouridea!Ihopeyou’lladmittotheBoardthatitwasyouridea.That’swhatyourgoddamnReardenMetalhasdonetous!IfwehadwaitedforOrrenBoyle..."Hisunshavedfacewaspulledbyatwistedscrambleofemotions:panic,hatred,atouchoftriumph,thereliefofscreamingatavictim—andthefaint,cautious,begginglookthatseesahopeofhelp.
Hehadstoppedtentatively,butshedidnotanswer.Shestoodwatchinghim,herhandsinthepocketsofhercoat.
"There’snothingwecandonow!"hemoaned."ItriedtocallWashington,togetthemtoseizethePhoenix-Durangoandturnitovertous,onthegroundofemergency,buttheywon’tevendiscussit!Toomanypeopleobjecting,theysay,afraidofsomefoolprecedentoranother!...
