Атлант расправил плечи

           "

           "Ishestillalive?"

           "Icantellyounothing."

           "Whatisyourname?"

           "HughAkston."

           Throughtheblanksecondsofrecapturinghermind,shekepttellingherself:You’rehysterical...don’tbepreposterous...it’sjustacoincidenceofnames—whilesheknew,incertaintyandnumb,inexplicableterror,thatthiswastheHughAkston.

           "HughAkston?"shestammered."Thephilosopher?...Thelastoftheadvocatesofreason?"

           "Why,yes,"heansweredpleasantly."Orthefirstoftheirreturn."

           Hedidnotseemstartledbyhershock,butheseemedtofinditunnecessary.Hismannerwassimple,almostfriendly,asifhefeltnoneedtohidehisidentityandnoresentmentatitsbeingdiscovered.

           "Ididn’tthinkthatanyyoungpersonwouldrecognizemynameorattachanysignificancetoit,nowadays,"hesaid.

           "But...butwhatareyoudoinghere?"Herarmsweptattheroom."Thisdoesn’tmakesense!"

           "Areyousure?"

           "Whatisit?Astunt?Anexperiment?Asecretmission?Areyoustudyingsomethingforsomespecialpurpose?"

           "No,MissTaggart.I’mearningmyliving."Thewordsandthevoicehadthegenuinesimplicityoftruth.

           "Dr.Akston,I...it’sinconceivable,it’s...You’re...you’reaphilosopher...thegreatestphilosopherliving...