Атлант расправил плечи
White Blackmail
Whyhadhewishedit?Forwhoseeyestosee?
Hethought—inbitterastonishmentandforthefirsttime—thatthejoyouspridehehadoncefelt,hadcomefromhisrespectformen,forthevalueoftheiradmirationandtheirjudgment.Hedidnotfeelitanylonger.Therewerenomen,hethought,towhosesighthecouldwishtoofferthatsign.
Heturnedbrusquelyawayfromthewindow.Heseizedhisovercoatwiththeharshsweepofagestureintendedtojolthimbackintothedisciplineofaction.Heslammedthetwofoldsoftheovercoatabouthisbody,hejerkedthebelttight,thenhastenedtoturnoffthelightswithrapidsnapsofhishandonhiswayoutoftheoffice.
Hethrewthedooropen—andstopped.Asinglelampwasburninginacornerofthedimmedanteroom.Themanwhosatontheedgeofadesk,inaposeofcasual,patientwaiting,wasFranciscod’Anconia.
ReardenstoodstillandcaughtabriefinstantwhenFrancisco,notmoving,lookedathimwiththehintofanamusedsmilethatwaslikeawinkbetweenconspiratorsatasecrettheybothunderstood,butwouldnotacknowledge.Itwasonlyaninstant,almosttoobrieftograsp,becauseitseemedtohimthatFranciscoroseatonceathisentrance,withamovementofcourteousdeference.Themovementsuggestedastrictformality,thedenialofanyattemptatpresumption—butitstressedtheintimacyofthefactthatheutterednowordofgreetingorexplanation.
