Атлант расправил плечи

           Thenhestartedrunningafteragirlofsixteen,anicegirlwhowouldn’thaveanythingtodowithhim.

           Shemarriedaboyshewasengagedto.EricStarnesgotintotheirhouseontheweddingday,andwhentheycamebackfromchurchaftertheceremony,theyfoundhimintheirbedroom,dead,messydead,hiswristsslashed...NowIsaytheremightbeforgivenessforamanwhokillshimselfquietly.Whocanpassjudgmentonanotherman’ssufferingandonthelimitofwhathecanbear?Butthemanwhokillshimself,makingashowofhisdeathinordertohurtsomebody,themanwhogiveshislifeformalice—there’snoforgivenessforhim,noexcuse,he’srottenclearthrough,andwhathedeservesisthatpeoplespitathismemory,insteadoffeelingsorryforhimandhurt,ashewantedthemtobe...Well,thatwasEricStarnes.Icantellyouwheretofindtheothertwo,ifyouwish."

           ShefoundGeraldStarnesinthewardofaflophouse.Helayhalftwistedonacot.Hishairwasstillblack,butthewhitestubbleofhischinwaslikeamistofdeadweedsoveravacantface.Hewassoggydrunk.Apointlesschucklekeptbreakinghisvoicewhenhespoke,thesoundofastatic,unfocusedmalevolence,"Itwentbust,thegreatfactory.That’swhathappenedtoit.Justwentupandbust.Doesthatbotheryou,madam?Thefactorywasrotten.Everybodyisrotten.I’msupposedtobegsomebody’spardon,butIwon’t.Idon’tgiveadamn.