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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 1220/1581
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"
I
embarrassed
you
?
Tonight
?
"
"
You
did
!
"
"
How
?
"
"
If
you
don
’
t
understand
it
,
I
can
’
t
explain
,
"
he
said
in
the
tone
of
a
mystic
who
implies
that
a
lack
of
understanding
is
the
confession
of
a
shameful
inferiority
.
"
I
don
’
t
understand
it
,
"
she
said
firmly
.
He
walked
out
of
the
room
,
slamming
the
door
.
She
felt
that
the
inexplicable
was
not
a
mere
blank
,
this
time
:
it
had
a
tinge
of
evil
.
From
that
night
on
,
a
small
,
hard
point
of
fear
remained
within
her
,
like
the
spot
of
a
distant
headlight
advancing
upon
her
down
an
invisible
track
.
Knowledge
did
not
seem
to
bring
her
a
clearer
vision
of
Jim
’
s
world
,
but
to
make
the
mystery
greater
.
She
could
not
believe
that
she
was
supposed
to
feel
respect
for
the
dreary
senselessness
of
the
art
shows
which
his
friends
attended
,
of
the
novels
they
read
,
of
the
political
magazines
they
discussed
—
the
art
shows
,
where
she
saw
the
kind
of
drawings
she
had
seen
chalked
on
any
pavement
of
her
childhood
’
s
slums
—
the
novels
,
that
purported
to
prove
the
futility
of
science
,
industry
,
civilization
and
love
,
using
language
that
her
father
would
not
have
used
in
his
drunkenest
moments
—
the
magazines
,
that
propounded
cowardly
generalities
,
less
clear
and
more
stale
than
the
sermons
for
which
she
had
condemned
the
preacher
of
the
slum
mission
as
a
mealy
-
mouthed
old
fraud
.
She
could
not
believe
that
these
things
were
the
culture
she
had
so
reverently
looked
up
to
and
so
eagerly
waited
to
discover
.
She
felt
as
if
she
had
climbed
a
mountain
toward
a
jagged
shape
that
had
looked
like
a
castle
and
had
found
it
to
be
the
crumbling
ruin
of
a
gutted
warehouse
.
"
Jim
,
"
she
said
once
,
after
an
evening
spent
among
the
men
who
were
called
the
intellectual
leaders
of
the
country
,
"
Dr
.
Simon
Pritchett
is
a
phony
—
a
mean
,
scared
old
phony
.
"
