Атлант расправил плечи
The Sacred and the Profane
"I’mstillwaitingfortheeveningwhenIwon’tfindyouin,"heanswered,"Thenyou’llhavetophonetheofficesofTaggartTranscontinental."
"Anyevening?Nowhereelse?"
"Jealous,Hank?"
"No.Curiouswhatitwouldfeellike,tobe."
Hestoodlookingatheracrosstheroom,refusingtolethimselfapproachher,deliberatelyprolongingthepleasureofknowingthathecoulddoitwheneverhewished.Sheworethetightgrayskirtofanofficesuitandablouseoftransparentwhiteclothtailoredlikeaman’sshirt;theblouseflaredoutaboveherwaistline,stressingthetrimflatnessofherhips;againsttheglowofalampbehindher,hecouldseetheslendersilhouetteofherbodywithintheflaringcircleoftheblouse.
"Howwasthebanquet?"sheasked.
"Fine.IescapedassoonasIcould.Whydidn’tyoucome?Youwereinvited."
"Ididn’twanttoseeyouinpublic."
Heglancedather,asifstressingthathenotedthefullmeaningofheranswer;thenthelinesofhisfacemovedtothehintofanamusedsmile."Youmissedalot.TheNationalCouncilofMetalIndustrieswon’tputitselfagainthroughtheordealofhavingmeforguestofhonor.
Notiftheycanhelpit."
"Whathappened?"
"Nothing.Justalotofspeeches.
