Атлант расправил плечи
The Top and the Bottom
Therewasasmallbarinadarkcorneroftheroom,whereanold,wizenedbartenderstoodforlongstretchesoftimewithoutmoving.Whencalledupon,hemovedwithcontemptuousslowness.Hisjobwasthatofservanttomen’srelaxationandpleasure,buthismannerwasthatofanembitteredquackministeringtosomeguiltydisease.
Thefourmensatinsilenceuntilthewaiterreturnedwiththeirdrinks.Theglassesheplacedonthetablewerefourspotsoffaintblueglitterinthesemi-darkness,likefourfeeblejetsofgasflame.Taggartreachedforhisglassandsmiledsuddenly.
"Let’sdrinktothesacrificestohistoricalnecessity,"hesaid,lookingatLarkin.
Therewasamoment’spause;inalightedroom,itwouldhavebeenthecontestoftwomenholdingeachother’seyes;here,theyweremerelylookingateachother’seyesockets.ThenLarkinpickeduphisglass.
"It’smyparty,boys,"saidTaggart,astheydrank.
Nobodyfoundanythingelsetosay,untilBoylespokeupwithindifferentcuriosity."Say,Jim,Imeanttoaskyou,whatinhell’sthematterwithyourtrainservicedownontheSanSebastiánLine?"
"Why,whatdoyoumean?Whatisthematterwithit?"
"Well,Idon’tknow,butrunningjustonepassengertrainadayis—"
"Onetrain?"
"—isprettymeaslyservice,itseemstome,andwhatatrain!Youmusthaveinheritedthosecoachesfromyourgreat-grandfather,andhemusthaveusedthemprettyhard.
