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- Стр. 161/1581
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Days
later
,
sitting
at
her
desk
at
Rockdale
Station
,
feeling
light
heartedly
at
home
,
Dagny
thought
of
the
party
and
shrugged
in
contemptuous
reproach
at
her
own
disappointment
.
She
looked
up
:
it
was
spring
and
there
were
leaves
on
the
tree
branches
in
the
darkness
outside
;
the
air
was
still
and
warm
.
She
asked
herself
what
she
had
expected
from
that
party
.
She
did
not
know
.
But
she
felt
it
again
,
here
,
now
,
as
she
sat
slouched
over
a
battered
desk
,
looking
out
into
the
darkness
:
a
sense
of
expectation
without
object
,
rising
through
her
body
,
slowly
,
like
a
warm
liquid
.
She
slumped
forward
across
the
desk
,
lazily
,
feeling
neither
exhaustion
nor
desire
to
work
.
When
Francisco
came
,
that
summer
,
she
told
him
about
the
party
and
about
her
disappointment
.
He
listened
silently
,
looking
at
her
for
the
first
time
with
that
glance
of
unmoving
mockery
which
he
reserved
for
others
,
a
glance
that
seemed
to
see
too
much
.
She
felt
as
if
he
heard
,
in
her
words
,
more
than
she
knew
she
told
him
.
She
saw
the
same
glance
in
his
eyes
on
the
evening
when
she
left
him
too
early
.
They
were
alone
,
sitting
on
the
shore
of
the
river
.
She
had
another
hour
before
she
was
due
at
Rockdale
.
There
were
long
,
thin
strips
of
fire
in
the
sky
,
and
red
sparks
floating
lazily
on
the
water
.
He
had
been
silent
for
a
long
time
,
when
she
rose
abruptly
and
told
him
that
she
had
to
go
.
He
did
not
try
to
stop
her
;
he
leaned
back
,
his
elbows
in
the
grass
,
and
looked
at
her
without
moving
;
his
glance
seemed
to
say
that
he
knew
her
motive
.
Hurrying
angrily
up
the
slope
to
the
house
,
she
wondered
what
had
made
her
leave
;
she
did
not
know
;
it
had
been
a
sudden
restlessness
that
came
from
a
feeling
she
did
not
identify
till
now
:
a
feeling
of
expectation
.
Each
night
,
she
drove
the
five
miles
from
the
country
house
to
Rockdale
.
She
came
back
at
dawn
,
slept
a
few
hours
and
got
up
with
the
rest
of
the
household
.
She
felt
no
desire
to
sleep
.
Undressing
for
bed
in
the
first
rays
of
the
sun
,
she
felt
a
tense
,
joyous
,
causeless
impatience
to
face
the
day
that
was
starting
.
She
saw
Francisco
’
s
mocking
glance
again
,
across
the
net
of
a
tennis
court
.
She
did
not
remember
the
beginning
of
that
game
;
they
had
often
played
tennis
together
and
he
had
always
won
.
She
did
not
know
at
what
moment
she
decided
that
she
would
win
,
this
time
.
When
she
became
aware
of
it
,
it
was
no
longer
a
decision
or
a
wish
,
but
a
quiet
fury
rising
within
her
.
She
did
not
know
why
she
had
to
win
;
she
did
not
know
why
it
seemed
so
crucially
,
urgently
necessary
;
she
knew
only
that
she
had
to
and
that
she
would
.
It
seemed
easy
to
play
;
it
was
as
if
her
will
had
vanished
and
someone
’
s
power
were
playing
for
her
.
She
watched
Francisco
’
s
figure
-
a
tall
,
swift
figure
,
the
suntan
of
his
arms
stressed
by
his
short
white
shirt
sleeves
.
She
felt
an
arrogant
pleasure
in
seeing
the
skill
of
his
movements
,
because
this
was
the
thing
which
she
would
beat
,
so
that
his
every
expert
gesture
became
her
victory
,
and
the
brilliant
competence
of
his
body
became
the
triumph
of
hers
.
She
felt
the
rising
pain
of
exhaustion
—
not
knowing
that
it
was
pain
,
feeling
it
only
in
sudden
stabs
that
made
her
aware
of
some
part
of
her
body
for
an
instant
,
to
be
forgotten
in
the
next
:
her
arm
socket
—
her
shoulder
blades
—
her
hips
,
with
the
white
shorts
sticking
to
her
skin
-
the
muscles
of
her
legs
,
when
she
leaped
to
meet
the
ball
,
but
did
not
remember
whether
she
came
down
to
touch
the
ground
again
—
her
eyelids
,
when
the
sky
went
dark
red
and
the
ball
came
at
her
through
the
darkness
like
a
whirling
white
name
—
the
thin
,
hot
wire
that
shot
from
her
ankle
,
up
her
back
,
and
went
on
shooting
straight
across
the
air
,
driving
the
ball
at
Francisco
’
s
figure
.
.
.
.
She
felt
an
exultant
pleasure
—
because
every
stab
of
pain
begun
in
her
body
had
to
end
in
his
,
because
he
was
being
exhausted
as
she
was
—
what
she
did
to
herself
,
she
was
doing
it
also
to
him
—
this
was
what
he
felt
—
this
was
what
she
drove
him
to
—
it
was
not
her
pain
that
she
felt
or
her
body
,
but
his
.
In
the
moments
when
she
saw
his
face
,
she
saw
that
he
was
laughing
.
He
was
looking
at
her
as
if
he
understood
.
