Атлант расправил плечи

           "

           Hedidnotanswerforamoment,andthenheasked,"WhatwouldyousayifIaskedyoutomarryme?"

           Shelookedathim,shelookedaroundthem—therewasafilthymattresshangingonsomebody’swindowsill,apawnshopacrossthestreet,agarbagepailatthestoopbesidethem—onedidnotasksuchaquestioninsuchaplace,shedidnotknowwhatitmeant,andsheanswered,"IguessI...Ihaven’tanysenseofhumor."

           "Thisisaproposal,mydear."

           Thenthiswasthewaytheyreachedtheirfirstkiss—withtearsrunningdownherface,tearsunshedattheparty,tearsofshock,ofhappiness,ofthinkingthatthisshouldbehappiness,andofalow,desolatevoicetellingherthatthiswasnotthewayshewouldhavewantedittohappen.

           Shehadnotthoughtaboutthenewspapers,untilthedaywhenJimtoldhertocometohisapartmentandshefounditcrowdedwithpeoplewhohadnotebooks,camerasandflashbulbs.Whenshesawherpictureinthepapersforthefirsttime—apictureofthemtogether,Jim’sarmaroundher—shegiggledwithdelightandwonderedproudlywhethereverypersoninthecityhadseenit.Afterawhile,thedelightvanished.

           Theykeptphotographingheratthedime-storecounter,inthesubway,onthestoopofthetenementhouse,inhermiserableroom.ShewouldhavetakenmoneyfromJimnowandruntohideinsomeobscurehotelfortheweeksoftheirengagement—buthedidnotofferit.