Атлант расправил плечи
The Sacred and the Profane
Sheansweredevenly,buthesawadangerousflickerinhereyes,asofawarningthatsheunderstoodhimtoowell."Therewasonlyoneother,Hank."
"When?"
"WhenIwasseventeen."
"Diditlast?"
"Forsomeyears."
"Whowashe?"
Shedrewback,lyingagainsthisarm;heleanedcloser,hisfacetaut;sheheldhiseyes."Iwon’tansweryou."
"Didyoulovehim?"
"Iwon’tanswer."
"Didyoulikesleepingwithhim?"
"Yes!"
Thelaughterinhereyesmadeitsoundlikeaslapacrosshisface,thelaughterofherknowledgethatthiswastheanswerhedreadedandwanted.
Hetwistedherarmsbehindher,holdingherhelpless,herbreastspressedagainsthim;shefeltthepainrippingthroughhershoulders,sheheardtheangerinhiswordsandthehuskinessofpleasureinhisvoice:"Whowashe?"
Shedidnotanswer,shelookedathim,hereyesdarkandoddlybrilliant,andhesawthattheshapeofhermouth,distortedbypain,wastheshapeofamockingsmile.
Hefeltitchangetoashapeofsurrender,underthetouchofhislips.
