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- Стр. 399/1581
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She
saw
him
smile
for
the
first
time
,
a
slow
,
mocking
,
sensual
smile
that
stressed
the
purpose
of
his
action
.
He
was
holding
her
half
-
stretched
across
the
bed
,
he
was
tearing
her
clothes
off
while
her
face
was
pressed
against
him
,
her
mouth
,
moving
down
the
line
of
his
neck
,
down
his
shoulder
.
She
knew
that
every
gesture
of
her
desire
for
him
struck
him
like
a
blow
,
that
there
was
some
shudder
of
incredulous
anger
within
him
—
yet
that
no
gesture
would
satisfy
his
greed
for
every
evidence
of
her
desire
.
He
stood
looking
down
at
her
naked
body
,
he
leaned
over
,
she
heard
his
voice
—
it
was
more
a
statement
of
contemptuous
triumph
than
a
question
:
"
You
want
it
?
"
Her
answer
was
more
a
gasp
than
a
word
,
her
eyes
closed
,
her
mouth
open
:
"
Yes
.
"
She
knew
that
what
she
felt
with
the
skin
of
her
arms
was
the
cloth
of
his
shirt
,
she
knew
that
the
lips
she
felt
on
her
mouth
were
his
,
but
in
the
rest
of
her
there
was
no
distinction
between
his
being
and
her
own
,
as
there
was
no
division
between
body
and
spirit
.
Through
all
the
steps
of
the
years
behind
them
,
the
steps
down
a
course
chosen
in
the
courage
of
a
single
loyalty
:
their
love
of
existence
—
chosen
in
the
knowledge
that
nothing
will
be
given
,
that
one
must
make
one
’
s
own
desire
and
every
shape
of
its
fulfillment
—
through
the
steps
of
shaping
metal
,
rails
and
motors
—
they
had
moved
by
the
power
of
the
thought
that
one
remakes
the
earth
for
one
’
s
enjoyment
,
that
man
’
s
spirit
gives
meaning
to
insentient
matter
by
molding
it
to
serve
one
’
s
chosen
goal
The
course
led
them
to
the
moment
when
,
in
answer
to
the
highest
of
one
’
s
values
,
in
an
admiration
not
to
be
expressed
by
any
other
form
of
tribute
,
one
’
s
spirit
makes
one
’
s
body
become
the
tribute
,
recasting
it
—
as
proof
,
as
sanction
,
as
reward
—
into
a
single
sensation
of
such
intensity
of
joy
that
no
other
sanction
of
one
’
s
existence
is
necessary
.
He
heard
the
moan
of
her
breath
,
she
felt
the
shudder
of
his
body
,
in
the
same
instant
.
She
looked
at
the
glowing
bands
on
the
skin
of
her
arm
,
spaced
like
bracelets
from
her
wrist
to
her
shoulder
.
They
were
strips
of
sunlight
from
the
Venetian
blinds
on
the
window
of
an
unfamiliar
room
.
She
saw
a
bruise
above
her
elbow
,
with
dark
beads
that
had
been
blood
.
Her
arm
lay
on
the
blanket
that
covered
her
body
.
She
was
aware
of
her
legs
and
hips
,
but
the
rest
of
her
body
was
only
a
sense
of
lightness
,
as
if
it
were
stretched
restfully
across
the
air
in
a
place
that
looked
like
a
cage
made
of
sunrays
.
Turning
to
look
at
him
,
she
thought
:
From
his
aloofness
,
from
his
manner
of
glass
-
enclosed
formality
,
from
his
pride
in
never
being
made
to
feel
anything
—
to
this
,
to
Hank
Rearden
in
bed
beside
her
,
after
hours
of
a
violence
which
they
could
not
name
now
,
not
in
words
or
in
daylight
—
but
which
was
in
their
eyes
,
as
they
looked
at
each
other
,
which
they
wanted
to
name
,
to
stress
,
to
throw
at
each
other
’
s
face
.
He
saw
the
face
of
a
young
girl
,
her
lips
suggesting
a
smile
,
as
if
her
natural
state
of
relaxation
were
a
state
of
radiance
,
a
lock
of
hair
falling
across
her
cheek
to
the
curve
of
a
naked
shoulder
,
her
eyes
looking
at
him
as
if
she
were
ready
to
accept
anything
he
might
wish
to
say
,
as
she
had
been
ready
to
accept
anything
he
had
wished
to
do
.
He
reached
over
and
moved
the
lock
of
hair
from
her
cheek
,
cautiously
,
as
if
it
were
fragile
.
He
held
it
back
with
his
fingertips
and
looked
at
her
face
.
Then
his
fingers
closed
suddenly
in
her
hair
and
he
raised
the
lock
to
his
lips
.
The
way
he
pressed
his
mouth
to
it
was
tenderness
,
but
the
way
his
fingers
held
it
was
despair
.
