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There
had
been
times
when
an
unsummoned
vision
a
sight
of
the
valley
had
seemed
to
rise
before
her
,
not
as
a
sudden
appearance
,
but
as
a
constant
,
hidden
presence
that
suddenly
chose
to
assume
an
insistent
reality
.
She
had
faced
it
,
through
moments
of
blinded
stillness
,
in
a
contest
between
an
unmoving
decision
and
an
unyielding
pain
,
a
pain
to
be
fought
by
acknowledgment
,
by
saying
:
All
right
,
even
this
.
There
had
been
mornings
when
,
awakening
with
rays
of
sunlight
on
her
face
,
she
had
thought
that
she
must
hurry
to
Hammond
s
Market
to
get
fresh
eggs
for
breakfast
;
then
,
recapturing
full
consciousness
,
seeing
the
haze
of
New
York
beyond
the
window
of
her
bedroom
,
she
had
felt
a
tearing
stab
,
like
a
touch
of
death
,
the
touch
of
rejecting
reality
.
You
knew
it
she
had
told
herself
severely
you
knew
what
it
would
be
like
when
you
made
your
choice
.
And
dragging
her
body
,
like
an
unwilling
weight
,
out
of
bed
to
face
an
unwelcome
day
,
she
would
whisper
:
All
right
,
even
this
.
The
worst
of
the
torture
had
been
the
moments
when
,
walking
down
the
street
,
she
had
caught
a
sudden
glimpse
of
chestnut
-
gold
,
a
glowing
streak
of
hair
among
the
heads
of
strangers
,
and
had
felt
as
if
the
city
had
vanished
,
as
if
nothing
but
the
violent
stillness
within
her
were
delaying
the
moment
when
she
would
rush
to
him
and
seize
him
;
but
that
next
moment
had
come
as
the
sight
of
some
meaningless
face
and
she
had
stood
,
not
wishing
to
live
through
the
following
step
,
not
wishing
to
generate
the
energy
of
living
.
She
had
tried
to
avoid
such
moments
;
she
had
tried
to
forbid
herself
to
look
;
she
had
walked
,
keeping
her
eyes
on
the
pavements
.
She
had
failed
:
by
some
will
of
their
own
,
her
eyes
had
kept
leaping
to
every
streak
of
gold
.
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She
had
kept
the
blinds
raised
on
the
windows
of
her
office
,
remembering
his
promise
,
thinking
only
:
If
you
are
watching
me
,
wherever
you
are
.
.
.
There
were
no
buildings
close
to
the
height
of
her
office
,
but
she
had
looked
at
the
distant
towers
,
wondering
which
window
was
his
observation
post
,
wondering
whether
some
invention
of
his
own
,
some
device
of
rays
and
lenses
,
permitted
him
to
observe
her
every
movement
from
some
skyscraper
a
block
or
a
mile
away
.
She
had
sat
at
her
desk
,
at
her
uncurtained
windows
,
thinking
:
Just
to
know
that
you
re
seeing
me
,
even
if
I
m
never
to
see
you
again
.
And
remembering
it
,
now
,
in
the
darkness
of
her
room
,
she
leaped
to
her
feet
and
snapped
on
the
light
.
Then
she
dropped
her
head
for
an
instant
,
smiling
in
mirthless
amusement
at
herself
.
She
wondered
whether
her
lighted
windows
,
in
the
black
immensity
of
the
city
,
were
a
flare
of
distress
,
calling
for
his
help
or
a
lighthouse
still
protecting
the
rest
of
the
world
.
The
doorbell
rang
.
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When
she
opened
the
door
,
she
saw
the
silhouette
of
a
girl
with
a
faintly
familiar
face
and
it
took
her
a
moment
of
startled
astonishment
to
realize
that
it
was
Cherryl
Taggart
.
Except
for
a
formal
exchange
of
greetings
on
a
few
chance
encounters
in
the
halls
of
the
Taggart
Building
,
they
had
not
seen
each
other
since
the
wedding
.
Cherryl
s
face
was
composed
and
unsmiling
.
"
Would
you
permit
me
to
speak
to
you
"
she
hesitated
and
ended
on
"
Miss
Taggart
?
"
"
Of
course
,
"
said
Dagny
gravely
.
"
Come
in
.
"