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But
those
who
feel
it
,
feel
nothing
for
any
quality
of
human
greatness
,
for
any
person
or
action
that
deserves
admiration
,
approval
,
esteem
.
These
are
the
things
I
feel
.
You
’
ll
find
that
it
’
s
one
or
the
other
.
Those
who
grant
sympathy
to
guilt
,
grant
none
to
innocence
.
Ask
yourself
which
,
of
the
two
,
are
the
unfeeling
persons
.
And
then
you
’
ll
see
what
motive
is
the
opposite
of
charity
.
"
"
What
?
"
she
whispered
.
"
Justice
,
Cherryl
.
"
Cherryl
shuddered
suddenly
and
dropped
her
head
.
"
Oh
God
!
"
she
moaned
.
"
If
you
knew
what
hell
Jim
has
been
giving
me
because
I
believed
just
what
you
said
!
"
She
raised
her
face
in
the
sweep
of
another
shudder
,
as
if
the
things
she
had
tried
to
control
had
broken
through
;
the
look
in
her
eyes
was
terror
.
"
Dagny
,
"
she
whispered
,
"
Dagny
,
I
’
m
afraid
of
them
.
.
.
of
Jim
and
all
the
others
.
.
.
not
afraid
of
something
they
’
ll
do
.
.
.
if
it
were
that
,
I
could
escape
.
.
.
but
afraid
,
as
if
there
’
s
no
way
out
.
.
.
afraid
of
what
they
are
and
.
.
.
and
that
they
exist
.
"
Dagny
came
forward
swiftly
to
sit
on
the
arm
of
her
chair
and
seize
her
shoulder
in
a
steadying
grasp
.
"
Quiet
,
kid
,
"
she
said
.
"
You
’
re
wrong
.
You
must
never
feel
afraid
of
people
in
that
way
.
You
must
never
think
that
their
existence
is
a
reflection
on
yours
—
yet
that
’
s
what
you
’
re
thinking
.
"
"
Yes
.
.
.
Yes
,
I
feel
that
there
’
s
no
chance
for
me
to
exist
,
if
they
do
.
.
.
no
chance
,
no
room
,
no
world
I
can
cope
with
.
.
.
I
don
’
t
want
to
feel
it
,
I
keep
pushing
it
back
,
but
it
’
s
coming
closer
and
I
know
I
have
no
place
to
run
.
.
.
I
can
’
t
explain
what
it
feels
like
,
I
can
’
t
catch
hold
of
it
—
and
that
’
s
part
of
the
terror
,
that
you
can
’
t
catch
hold
of
anything
—
it
’
s
as
if
the
whole
world
were
suddenly
destroyed
,
but
not
by
an
explosion
—
an
explosion
is
something
hard
and
solid
—
but
destroyed
by
.
.
.
by
some
horrible
kind
of
softening
.
.
.
as
if
nothing
were
solid
,
nothing
held
any
shape
at
all
,
and
you
could
poke
your
finger
through
stone
walls
and
the
stone
would
give
,
like
jelly
,
and
mountains
would
slither
,
and
buildings
would
switch
their
shapes
like
clouds
—
and
that
would
be
the
end
of
the
world
,
not
fire
and
brimstone
,
but
goo
.
"
"
Cherryl
.
.
.
Cherryl
,
you
poor
kid
,
there
have
been
centuries
of
philosophers
plotting
to
turn
the
world
into
just
that
—
to
destroy
people
’
s
minds
by
making
them
believe
that
that
’
s
what
they
’
re
seeing
.
But
you
don
’
t
have
to
accept
it
.
You
don
’
t
have
to
see
through
the
eyes
of
others
,
hold
onto
yours
,
stand
on
your
own
judgment
,
you
know
that
what
is
,
is
—
say
it
aloud
,
like
the
holiest
of
prayers
,
and
don
’
t
let
anyone
tell
you
otherwise
.
"
