Атлант расправил плечи
The Sacred and the Profane
Youthinkit’sgreat?Well,it’snotanykindofsuperiorability,butjustahidethatyoucouldn’tpierceifyoupouredatonofhisownsteeloverhishead!Therearemanypeopleofmuchgreaterabilityintheworld,butyoudon’treadaboutthemintheheadlinesandyoudon’truntogapeatthematgradecrossings—becausetheycan’tinventnon-collapsiblebridgesatatimewhenthesufferingofmankindweighsontheirspirit!"
Shewaslookingathimsilently,respectfully,herjoyouseagernesstoneddown,hereyessubdued.Hefeltbetter.
Hepickeduphisdrink,tookagulp,andchuckledabruptlyatasuddenrecollection.
"Itwasfunny,though,"hesaid,histoneeasier,livelier,thetoneofaconfidencetoapal."YoushouldhaveseenOrrenBoyleyesterday,whenthefirstflashcamethroughontheradiofromWyattJunction!Heturnedgreen—butImean,green,thecolorofafishthat’sbeenlyingaroundtoolong!Doyouknowwhathedidlastnight,bywayoftakingthebadnews?HiredhimselfasuiteattheValhallaHotel—andyouknowwhatthatis—andthelastIheard,hewasstilltheretoday,drinkinghimselfunderthetableandthebeds,withafewchoicefriendsofhisandhalfthefemalepopulationofupperAmsterdamAvenue!"
"WhoisMr.Boyle?"sheasked,stupefied.
"Oh,afatslobthat’sinclinedtooverreachhimself.Asmartguywhogetstoosmartattimes.Youshouldhaveseenhisfaceyesterday!Igotakickoutofthat.
