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- Айн Рэнд
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- Атлант расправил плечи
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- Стр. 1104/1581
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The
slight
movement
of
her
shoulder
leaning
back
,
the
pause
,
then
the
lower
,
huskier
tone
of
her
voice
,
left
a
hint
of
smiling
triumph
to
trail
behind
her
words
:
"
When
did
you
see
me
for
the
first
time
?
"
"
Ten
years
ago
,
"
he
answered
,
looking
straight
at
her
,
letting
her
see
that
he
was
answering
the
full
,
unnamed
meaning
of
her
question
.
"
Where
?
"
The
word
was
almost
a
command
.
He
hesitated
,
then
she
saw
a
faint
smile
that
touched
only
his
lips
,
not
his
eyes
,
the
kind
of
smile
with
which
one
contemplates
—
with
longing
,
bitterness
and
pride
—
a
possession
purchased
at
an
excruciating
cost
;
his
eyes
seemed
directed
,
not
at
her
,
but
at
the
girl
of
that
time
.
"
Underground
,
in
the
Taggart
Terminal
,
"
he
answered
.
She
became
suddenly
conscious
of
her
posture
:
she
had
let
her
shoulder
blades
slide
down
against
the
chair
,
carelessly
,
half
-
lying
,
one
leg
stretched
forward
—
and
with
her
sternly
tailored
,
transparent
blouse
,
her
wide
peasant
skirt
hand
-
printed
in
violent
colors
,
her
thin
stocking
and
high
-
heeled
pump
,
she
did
not
look
like
a
railroad
executive
—
the
consciousness
of
it
struck
her
in
answer
to
his
eyes
that
seemed
to
be
seeing
the
unattainable
—
she
looked
like
that
which
she
was
:
his
servant
girl
.
She
knew
the
moment
when
some
faintest
stress
of
the
brilliance
in
his
dark
green
eyes
removed
the
veil
of
distance
,
replacing
the
vision
of
the
past
by
the
act
of
seeing
her
immediate
person
.
She
met
his
eyes
with
that
insolent
glance
which
is
a
smile
without
movement
of
facial
muscles
.
He
turned
away
,
but
as
he
moved
across
the
room
his
steps
were
as
eloquent
as
the
sound
of
a
voice
.
She
knew
that
he
wanted
to
leave
the
room
,
as
he
always
left
it
,
he
had
never
stayed
for
longer
than
a
brief
good
night
when
he
came
home
.
She
watched
the
course
of
his
struggle
,
whether
by
means
of
his
steps
,
begun
in
one
direction
and
swerving
in
another
,
or
by
means
of
her
certainty
that
her
body
had
become
an
instrument
for
the
direct
perception
of
his
,
like
a
screen
reflecting
both
movements
and
motives
—
she
could
not
tell
.
She
knew
only
that
he
who
had
never
started
or
lost
a
battle
against
himself
,
now
had
no
power
to
leave
this
room
.
His
manner
seemed
to
show
no
sign
of
strain
.
He
took
off
his
coat
,
throwing
it
aside
,
remaining
in
shirt
sleeves
,
and
sat
down
,
facing
her
,
at
the
window
across
the
room
.
But
he
sat
down
on
the
arm
of
a
chair
,
as
if
he
were
neither
leaving
nor
staying
.
