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Were
she
able
to
feel
—
she
thought
as
she
walked
through
the
concourse
of
the
Terminal
—
she
would
know
that
the
heavy
indifference
she
now
felt
for
her
railroad
was
hatred
.
She
could
not
get
rid
of
the
feeling
that
she
was
running
nothing
but
freight
trains
:
the
passengers
,
to
her
,
were
not
living
or
human
.
It
seemed
senseless
to
waste
such
enormous
effort
on
preventing
catastrophes
,
on
protecting
the
safety
of
trains
carrying
nothing
but
inanimate
objects
.
She
looked
at
the
faces
in
the
Terminaclass
=
"
underline
"
if
he
were
to
die
,
she
thought
,
to
be
murdered
by
the
rulers
of
their
system
,
that
these
might
continue
to
eat
,
sleep
and
travel
—
would
she
work
to
provide
them
with
trains
?
If
she
were
to
scream
for
their
help
,
would
one
of
them
rise
to
his
defense
?
Did
they
want
him
to
live
,
they
who
had
heard
him
?
The
check
for
five
hundred
thousand
dollars
was
delivered
to
her
office
,
that
afternoon
;
it
was
delivered
with
a
bouquet
of
flowers
from
Mr
.
Thompson
.
She
looked
at
the
check
and
let
it
flutter
down
to
her
desk
:
it
meant
nothing
and
made
her
feel
nothing
,
not
even
a
suggestion
of
guilt
.
It
was
a
scrap
of
paper
,
of
no
greater
significance
than
the
ones
in
the
office
wastebasket
.
Whether
it
could
buy
a
diamond
necklace
or
the
city
dump
or
the
last
of
her
food
,
made
no
difference
.
It
would
never
be
spent
.
It
was
not
a
token
of
value
and
nothing
it
purchased
could
be
a
value
.
But
this
—
she
thought
—
this
inanimate
indifference
was
the
permanent
state
of
the
people
around
her
,
of
men
who
had
no
purpose
and
no
passion
.
This
was
the
state
of
a
non
-
valuing
soul
;
those
who
chose
it
—
she
wondered
—
did
they
want
to
live
?
The
lights
were
out
of
order
in
the
hall
of
the
apartment
house
,
when
she
came
home
that
evening
,
numb
with
exhaustion
—
and
she
did
not
notice
the
envelope
at
her
feet
until
she
switched
on
the
light
in
her
foyer
.
It
was
a
blank
,
sealed
envelope
that
had
been
slipped
under
her
door
.
She
picked
it
up
—
and
then
,
within
a
moment
,
she
was
laughing
soundlessly
,
half
-
kneeling
,
half
-
sitting
on
the
floor
,
not
to
move
off
that
spot
,
not
to
do
anything
but
stare
at
the
note
written
by
a
hand
she
knew
,
the
hand
that
had
written
its
last
message
on
the
calendar
above
the
city
.
The
note
said
:
Dagny
:
Sit
tight
.
Watch
them
.
When
he
’
ll
need
our
help
,
call
me
at
OR
6
-
5693
.
F
.
The
newspapers
of
the
following
morning
admonished
the
public
not
to
believe
the
rumors
that
there
was
any
trouble
in
the
Southern
states
.
The
confidential
reports
,
sent
to
Mr
.
Thompson
,
stated
that
armed
fighting
had
broken
out
between
Georgia
and
Alabama
,
for
the
possession
of
a
factory
manufacturing
electrical
equipment
—
a
factory
cut
off
by
the
fighting
and
by
blasted
railroad
tracks
from
any
source
of
raw
materials
.
"
Have
you
read
the
confidential
reports
I
sent
you
?
"
moaned
Mr
.
Thompson
,
that
evening
,
facing
Galt
once
more
.
He
was
accompanied
by
James
Taggart
,
who
had
volunteered
to
meet
the
prisoner
for
the
first
time
.
Galt
sat
on
a
straight
-
backed
chair
,
his
legs
crossed
,
smoking
a
cigarette
.
He
seemed
erect
and
relaxed
,
together
.
They
could
not
decipher
the
expression
on
his
face
,
except
that
it
showed
no
sign
of
apprehension
.
