Атлант расправил плечи
The Aristocracy of pull
"That,mydear,isthenon-materialtiaraIwanted!"
Theremnantofasmilestayedonherfaceasshemovedthroughthecrowd,afluidsmilethatransoftlyintothelookoftensionandboredomwornbyallthefacesaroundher.Shemovedatrandom,enjoyingthesenseofbeingseen,hereggshellsatingownshimmeringlikeheavycreamwiththemotionofhertallfigure.
Itwasthegreen-bluesparkthatcaughtherattention:itflashedforaninstantunderthelights,onthewristofathin,nakedarm.Thenshesawtheslenderbody,thegraydress,thefragile,nakedshoulders.Shestopped.Shelookedatthebracelet,frowning.
Dagnyturnedatherapproach.AmongthemanythingsthatLillianresented,theimpersonalpolitenessofDagny’sfacewastheonesheresentedmost.
"Whatdoyouthinkofyourbrother’smarriage,MissTaggart?"sheaskedcasually,smiling.
"Ihavenoopinionaboutit."
"Doyoumeantosaythatyoudon’tfinditworthyofanythought?"
"Ifyouwishtobeexact—yes,that’swhatImean."
"Oh,butdon’tyouseeanyhumansignificanceinit?"
"No."
"Don’tyouthinkthatapersonsuchasyourbrother’sbridedoesdeservesomeinterest?"
"Why,no."
"Ienvyyou,MissTaggart.IenvyyourOlympiandetachment.
