Атлант расправил плечи

           Hethoughtthatinthedarknessofthisnightothersignswerelightedoverthecountry:ReardenOre—ReardenCoal—ReardenLimestone.Hethoughtofthedaysbehindhim.Hewisheditwerepossibletolightaneonsignabovethem,saying:ReardenLife.

           Heturnedsharplyandwalkedon.Astheroadcameclosertohishouse,henoticedthathisstepswereslowingdownandthatsomethingwasebbingawayfromhismood.Hefeltadimreluctancetoenterhishome,whichhedidnotwanttofeel.No,hethought,nottonight;they’llunderstandit,tonight.Buthedidnotknow,hehadneverdefined,whatitwasthathewantedthemtounderstand.

           Hesawlightsinthewindowsofthelivingroom,whenheapproachedhishouse.Thehousestoodonahill,risingbeforehimlikeabigwhitebulk;itlookednaked,withafewsemi-colonialpillarsforreluctantornament;ithadthecheerlesslookofanuditynotworthrevealing.

           Hewasnotcertainwhetherhiswifenoticedhimwhenheenteredthelivingroom.Shesatbythefireplace,talking,thecurveofherarmfloatingingracefulemphasisofherwords.Heheardasmallbreakinhervoice,andthoughtthatshehadseenhim,butshedidnotlookupandhersentencewentonsmoothly;hecouldnotbecertain.

           "—butit’sjustthatamanofcultureisboredwiththeallegedwondersofpurelymaterialingenuity,"shewassaying."Hesimplyrefusestogetexcitedaboutplumbing."

           Thensheturnedherhead,lookedatReardenintheshadowsacrossthelongroom,andherarmsspreadgracefully,liketwoswannecksbyhersides.