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- Айн Рэнд
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- Атлант расправил плечи
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- Стр. 1402/1581
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He
frowned
,
considering
it
for
a
moment
,
with
a
look
of
annoyance
more
than
anxiety
.
"
Oh
,
all
right
,
if
you
wish
,
"
he
snapped
,
shrugging
.
She
came
to
the
broadcasting
studio
with
James
Taggart
as
a
policeman
at
one
side
of
her
and
Eddie
Willers
as
a
bodyguard
at
the
other
.
Taggart
’
s
face
was
resentful
and
tense
,
Eddie
’
s
—
resigned
,
yet
wondering
and
curious
.
A
stage
set
of
pasteboard
walls
had
been
erected
in
a
corner
of
the
vast
,
dim
space
,
representing
a
stiffly
traditional
suggestion
of
a
cross
between
a
stately
drawing
room
and
a
modest
study
.
A
semicircle
of
empty
armchairs
filled
the
set
,
suggesting
a
grouping
from
a
family
album
,
with
microphones
dangling
like
bait
at
the
end
of
long
poles
extended
for
fishing
among
the
chairs
.
The
best
leadership
of
the
country
,
that
stood
about
in
nervous
clusters
,
had
the
look
of
a
remnant
sale
in
a
bankrupt
store
:
she
saw
Wesley
Mouch
,
Eugene
Lawson
,
Chick
Morrison
,
Tinky
Holloway
,
Dr
.
Floyd
Ferris
,
Dr
.
Simon
Pritchett
,
Ma
Chalmers
,
Fred
Kinnan
,
and
a
seedy
handful
of
businessmen
among
whom
the
half
-
scared
,
half
-
flattered
figure
of
Mr
.
Mowen
of
the
Amalgamated
Switch
and
Signal
Company
was
,
incredibly
,
intended
to
represent
an
industrial
tycoon
.
But
the
figure
that
gave
her
an
instant
’
s
shock
was
Dr
.
Robert
Stadler
.
She
had
not
known
that
a
face
could
age
so
greatly
within
the
brief
space
of
one
year
:
the
look
of
timeless
energy
,
of
boyish
eagerness
,
was
gone
,
and
nothing
remained
of
the
face
except
the
lines
of
contemptuous
bitterness
.
He
stood
alone
,
apart
from
the
others
,
and
she
saw
the
moment
when
his
eyes
saw
her
enter
;
he
looked
like
a
man
in
a
whorehouse
who
had
accepted
the
nature
of
his
surroundings
until
suddenly
caught
there
by
his
wife
:
it
was
a
look
of
guilt
in
the
process
of
becoming
hatred
.
Then
she
saw
Robert
Stadler
,
the
scientist
,
turn
away
as
if
he
had
not
seen
her
—
as
if
his
refusal
to
see
could
wipe
a
fact
out
of
existence
.
Mr
.
Thompson
was
pacing
among
the
groups
,
snapping
at
random
bystanders
,
in
the
restless
manner
of
a
man
of
action
who
feels
contempt
for
the
duty
of
making
speeches
.
He
was
clutching
a
sheaf
of
typewritten
pages
,
as
if
it
were
a
bundle
of
old
clothing
about
to
be
discarded
.
James
Taggart
caught
him
in
mid
-
step
,
to
say
uncertainly
and
loudly
,
"
Mr
.
Thompson
,
may
I
present
my
sister
,
Miss
Dagny
Taggart
?
"
"
So
nice
of
you
to
come
,
Miss
Taggart
,
"
said
Mr
.
Thompson
,
shaking
her
hand
as
if
she
were
another
voter
from
back
home
whose
name
he
had
never
heard
before
;
then
he
marched
briskly
off
.
"
Where
’
s
the
conference
,
Jim
?
"
she
asked
,
and
glanced
at
the
clock
:
it
was
a
huge
white
dial
with
a
black
hand
slicing
the
minutes
,
like
a
knife
moving
toward
the
hour
of
eight
.
