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- Айн Рэнд
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- Атлант расправил плечи
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- Стр. 249/1581
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Why
had
she
married
him
?
—
he
thought
.
That
bright
,
crisp
voice
was
not
talking
at
random
.
She
knew
why
he
had
come
here
.
She
knew
what
it
would
do
to
him
to
see
her
pick
up
a
silver
buffer
and
go
on
talking
gaily
,
polishing
her
fingernails
.
She
was
talking
about
the
party
.
But
she
did
not
mention
Bertram
Scudder
-
—
or
Dagny
Taggart
.
What
had
she
sought
in
marrying
him
?
He
felt
the
presence
of
some
cold
,
driving
purpose
within
her
—
but
found
nothing
to
condemn
.
She
had
never
tried
to
use
him
.
She
made
no
demands
on
him
.
She
found
no
satisfaction
in
the
prestige
of
industrial
power
—
she
spurned
it
—
she
preferred
her
own
circle
of
friends
.
She
was
not
after
money
—
she
spent
little
—
she
was
indifferent
to
the
kind
of
extravagance
he
could
have
afforded
.
He
had
no
right
to
accuse
her
,
he
thought
,
or
ever
to
break
the
bond
.
She
was
a
woman
of
honor
in
their
marriage
.
She
wanted
nothing
material
from
him
.
He
turned
and
looked
at
her
wearily
.
"
Next
time
you
give
a
party
,
"
he
said
,
"
stick
to
your
own
crowd
.
Don
’
t
invite
what
you
think
are
my
friends
.
I
don
’
t
care
to
meet
them
socially
.
"
She
laughed
,
startled
and
pleased
.
"
I
don
’
t
blame
you
,
darling
,
"
she
said
.
He
walked
out
,
adding
nothing
else
.
What
did
she
want
from
him
?
—
he
thought
.
What
was
she
after
?
In
the
universe
as
he
knew
it
,
there
was
no
answer
.
The
rails
rose
through
the
rocks
to
the
oil
derricks
and
the
oil
derricks
rose
to
the
sky
.
Dagny
stood
on
the
bridge
,
looking
up
at
the
crest
of
the
hill
where
the
sun
hit
a
spot
of
metal
on
the
top
of
the
highest
rigging
.
It
looked
like
a
white
torch
lighted
over
the
snow
on
the
ridges
of
Wyatt
Oil
.
By
spring
,
she
thought
,
the
track
would
meet
the
line
growing
toward
it
from
Cheyenne
.
She
let
her
eyes
follow
the
green
-
blue
rails
that
started
from
the
derricks
,
came
down
,
went
across
the
bridge
and
past
her
.
She
turned
her
head
to
follow
them
through
the
miles
of
clear
air
,
as
they
went
on
in
great
curves
hung
on
the
sides
of
the
mountains
,
far
to
the
end
of
the
new
track
,
where
a
locomotive
crane
,
like
an
arm
of
naked
bones
and
nerves
,
moved
tensely
against
the
sky
.
A
tractor
went
past
her
,
loaded
with
green
-
blue
bolts
.
The
sound
of
drills
came
as
a
steady
shudder
from
far
below
,
where
men
swung
on
metal
cables
,
cutting
the
straight
stone
drop
of
the
canyon
wall
to
reinforce
the
abutments
of
the
bridge
.
Down
the
track
,
she
could
see
men
working
,
their
arms
stiff
with
the
tension
of
their
muscles
as
they
gripped
the
handles
of
electric
tie
tampers
.
