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It
was
his
hand
that
opened
the
door
,
but
the
sudden
contrast
of
light
and
sound
made
it
seem
as
if
the
door
were
flung
open
by
an
explosion
:
the
light
came
from
three
hundred
bulbs
in
the
blazing
chandeliers
of
the
grand
ballroom
of
the
Wayne
-
Falkland
Hotel
;
the
sound
was
the
applause
of
five
hundred
people
.
Chick
Morrison
led
the
way
to
the
speakers
’
table
raised
on
a
platform
above
the
tables
filling
the
room
.
The
people
seemed
to
know
,
without
announcement
,
that
of
the
two
figures
following
him
,
it
was
the
tall
,
slender
man
with
the
gold
-
copper
hair
that
they
were
applauding
.
His
face
had
the
same
quality
as
the
voice
they
had
heard
on
the
radio
:
calm
,
confident
—
and
out
of
reach
.
The
seat
reserved
for
Galt
was
the
place
of
honor
in
the
center
of
the
long
table
,
with
Mr
.
Thompson
waiting
for
him
at
his
right
and
the
muscular
man
slipping
skillfully
into
the
seat
at
his
left
,
not
relinquishing
his
arm
or
the
pressure
of
the
muzzle
.
The
jewels
on
the
naked
shoulders
of
women
carried
the
glitter
of
the
chandeliers
to
the
shadows
of
the
tables
crowded
against
the
distant
walls
;
the
severe
black
-
and
white
of
the
men
’
s
figures
rescued
the
room
’
s
style
of
solemnly
regal
luxury
from
the
discordant
slashes
made
by
news
cameras
,
microphones
and
a
dormant
array
of
television
equipment
.
The
crowd
was
on
its
feet
,
applauding
.
Mr
.
Thompson
was
smiling
and
watching
Galt
’
s
face
,
with
the
eager
,
anxious
look
of
an
adult
waiting
for
a
child
’
s
reaction
to
a
spectacularly
generous
gift
.
Galt
sat
facing
the
ovation
,
neither
ignoring
it
nor
responding
.
"
The
applause
you
are
hearing
,
"
a
radio
announcer
was
yelling
into
a
microphone
in
a
corner
of
the
room
,
"
is
in
greeting
to
John
Galt
,
who
has
just
taken
his
place
at
the
speakers
’
table
!
Yes
,
my
friends
,
John
Galt
in
person
—
as
those
of
you
who
can
find
a
television
set
will
have
a
chance
to
see
for
yourself
in
a
short
while
!
"
I
must
remember
where
I
am
—
thought
Dagny
,
clenching
her
fists
under
the
tablecloth
,
in
the
obscurity
of
a
side
table
.
It
was
hard
to
maintain
a
sense
of
double
reality
in
the
presence
of
Galt
,
thirty
feet
away
from
her
.
She
felt
that
no
danger
or
pain
could
exist
in
the
world
so
long
as
she
could
see
his
face
—
and
,
simultaneously
,
an
icy
terror
,
when
she
looked
at
those
who
held
him
in
their
power
,
when
she
remembered
the
blind
irrationality
of
the
event
they
were
staging
.
She
fought
to
keep
her
facial
muscles
rigid
,
not
to
betray
herself
by
a
smile
of
happiness
or
by
a
scream
of
panic
.
She
wondered
how
his
eyes
had
been
able
to
find
her
in
that
crowd
.
She
had
seen
the
brief
pause
of
his
glance
,
which
no
one
else
could
notice
;
the
glance
had
been
more
than
a
kiss
,
it
had
been
a
handshake
of
approval
and
support
.
He
did
not
glance
again
in
her
direction
.
She
could
not
force
herself
to
look
away
.
It
was
startling
to
see
him
in
evening
clothes
and
more
startling
still
that
he
wore
them
so
naturally
;
he
made
them
look
like
a
work
uniform
of
honor
;
his
figure
suggested
the
kind
of
banquet
,
in
the
days
of
a
distant
past
,
where
he
would
have
been
receiving
an
industrial
award
.
Celebrations
—
she
remembered
her
own
words
,
with
a
stab
of
longing
—
should
be
only
for
those
who
have
something
to
celebrate
.
