Атлант расправил плечи
The John Galt line
Hepaced,movingoutofhersight,comingbackagain.Shesat,watching—ontheglisteningpavementofadarkalley—theshadowofanunknowntorment.
Theshadowmovedawayoncemore.Shewaited.Itdidnotreturn.
Thensheleapedtoherfeet.Shehadwantedtoseetheoutcomeofthebattle;nowthathehadwonit—orlost—shewasstruckbythesudden,urgentneedtoknowhisidentityandmotive.Sheranthroughthedarkanteroom,shethrewthedooropenandlookedout.
Thealleywasempty.Thepavementwenttaperingoffintothedistance,likeabandofwetmirrorunderafewspacedlights.Therewasnooneinsight.Shesawthedarkholeofabrokenwindowinanabandonedshop.Beyondit,therewerethedoorsofafewroominghouses.Acrossthealley,streaksofrainglitteredunderalightthathungovertheblackgapofanopendoorleadingdowntotheundergroundtunnelsofTaggartTranscontinental.
Reardensignedthepapers,pushedthemacrossthedeskandlookedaway,thinkingthathewouldneverhavetothinkofthemagain,wishinghewerecarriedtothetimewhenthismomentwouldbefarbehindhim.
PaulLarkinreachedforthepapershesitantly;helookedingratiatinglyhelpless,"It’sonlyalegaltechnicality,Hank,"hesaid."YouknowthatI’llalwaysconsidertheseoreminesasyours.
