Атлант расправил плечи

           Theapartmentwasdarkwhenheentered,butthedoortoherbedroomwashalf-openandheheardhervoicesaying,"Hello,Hank."

           Hewalkedin,asking,"Wereyouasleep?"

           "No."

           Heswitchedonthelight.Shelayinbed,herheadproppedbythepillow,herhairfallingsmoothlytohershoulders,asifshehadnotmovedforalongtime;butherfacewasuntroubled.Shelookedlikeaschoolgirl,withthetailoredcollarofapalebluenightgownlyingseverelyhighatthebaseofherthroat;thenightgown’sfrontwasadeliberatecontrasttotheseverity,aspreadofpaleblueembroiderythatlookedluxuriouslyadultandfeminine.

           Hesatdownontheedgeofthebed—andshesmiled,noticingthatthesternformalityofhisfulldressclothesmadehisactionsosimply,naturallyintimate.Hesmiledinanswer.Hehadcome,preparedtorejecttheforgivenessshehadgrantedhimattheparty,asonerejectsafavorfromtoogenerousanadversary.Instead,hereachedoutsuddenlyandmovedhishandoverherforehead,downthelineofherhair,inagestureofprotectivetenderness,inthesuddenfeelingofhowdelicatelychildlikeshewas,thisadversarywhohadbornetheconstantchallengeofhisstrength,butwhoshouldhavehadhisprotection.

           "You’recarryingtoomuch,"hesaid,"andit’sIwhomakeitharderforyou..."

           "No,Hank,youdon’tandyouknowit.