Атлант расправил плечи

           Sheglancedupathimoncemore,asifitwereperhapsforthelasttime,thensaidearnestly,hervoicelow,"Mr.Taggart,I’mverygratefultoyou,becauseyou...Imean,anyothermanwouldhavetriedto...Imean,that’sallhe’dwant,butyou’resomuchbetterthanthat,oh,somuchbetter!"

           Heleanedclosertoherwithafaint,interestedsmile."Wouldyouhave?"heasked.

           Shedrewbackfromhim,insuddenterroratherownwords."Oh,Ididn’tmeanitthatway!"shegasped."OhGod,Iwasn’thintingor...or..."Sheblushedfuriously,whirledaroundandran,vanishingupthelong,steepstairsoftheroominghouse.

           Hestoodonthesidewalk,feelinganodd,heavy,foggysenseofsatisfaction:feelingasifhehadcommittedanactofvirtue—andasifhehadtakenhisrevengeuponeverypersonwhohadstoodcheeringalongthethree-hundred-miletrackoftheJohnGaltLine.

           WhentheirtrainreachedPhiladelphia,Reardenleftherwithoutaword,asifthenightsoftheirreturnjourneydeservednoacknowledgmentinthedaylightrealityofcrowdedstationplatformsandmovingengines,therealityherespected.ShewentontoNewYork,alone.Butlatethatevening,thedoorbellofherapartmentrangandDagnyknewthatshehadexpectedit.

           Hesaidnothingwhenheentered,helookedather,makinghissilentpresencemoreintimateagreetingthanwords.