Атлант расправил плечи
The Sacred and the Profane
Taggart,whatelseistheretolookupto?"
Ascreechingsound,neitherquitebellnorbuzzer,rangoutsuddenlyandwentonringingwithnerve-gratinginsistence.
Shejerkedherhead,asifawakeningatthescreamofanalarmclock,thensighed."That’sclosingtime,Mr.Taggart,"shesaidregretfully.
"Gogetyourhat—I’llwaitforyououtside,"hesaid.
Shestaredathim,asifamongalloflife’spossibilitiesthiswasoneshehadneverheldasconceivable.
"Nokidding?"shewhispered.
"Nokidding."
Shewhirledaroundandranlikeastreaktothedooroftheemployees’quarters,forgettinghercounter,herdutiesandallfeminineconcernaboutnevershowingeagernessinacceptingaman’sinvitation.
Hestoodlookingafterherforamoment,hiseyesnarrowed.Hedidnotnametohimselfthenatureofhisownfeeling—nevertoidentifyhisemotionswastheonlysteadfastruleofhislife;hemerelyfeltit—andthisparticularfeelingwaspleasurable,whichwastheonlyidentificationhecaredtoknow.Butthefeelingwastheproductofathoughthewouldnotutter.
