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It
seemed
to
him
as
if
a
few
rays
from
it
reached
into
his
present
:
not
rays
,
more
like
pinpoint
spotlights
that
gave
an
occasional
moment
’
s
glitter
to
his
job
,
to
his
lonely
apartment
,
to
the
quiet
,
scrupulous
progression
of
his
existence
.
He
thought
of
a
summer
day
when
he
was
ten
years
old
.
That
day
in
a
clearing
of
the
woods
,
the
one
precious
companion
of
his
childhood
told
him
what
they
would
do
when
they
grew
up
.
The
words
were
harsh
and
glowing
,
like
the
sunlight
.
He
listened
in
admiration
and
in
wonder
.
When
he
was
asked
what
he
would
want
to
do
,
he
answered
at
once
,
"
Whatever
is
right
,
"
and
added
,
"
You
ought
to
do
something
great
.
.
.
I
mean
,
the
two
of
us
together
.
"
"
What
?
"
she
asked
.
He
said
,
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
That
’
s
what
we
ought
to
find
out
.
Not
just
what
you
said
.
Not
just
business
and
earning
a
living
.
Things
like
winning
battles
,
or
saving
people
out
of
fires
,
or
climbing
mountains
.
"
"
What
for
?
"
she
asked
.
He
said
,
"
The
minister
said
last
Sunday
that
we
must
always
reach
for
the
best
within
us
.
What
do
you
suppose
is
the
best
within
us
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
"
"
We
’
ll
have
to
find
out
.
"
She
did
not
answer
;
she
was
looking
away
,
up
the
railroad
track
.
Eddie
Willers
smiled
.
He
had
said
,
"
Whatever
is
right
,
"
twenty
-
two
years
ago
.
He
had
kept
that
statement
unchallenged
ever
since
;
the
other
questions
had
faded
in
his
mind
;
he
had
been
too
busy
to
ask
them
.
But
he
still
thought
it
self
-
evident
that
one
had
to
do
what
was
right
;
he
had
never
learned
how
people
could
want
to
do
otherwise
;
he
had
learned
only
that
they
did
.
It
still
seemed
simple
and
incomprehensible
to
him
:
simple
that
things
should
be
right
,
and
incomprehensible
that
they
weren
’
t
.
He
knew
that
they
weren
’
t
.
He
thought
of
that
,
as
he
turned
a
corner
and
came
to
the
great
building
of
Taggart
Transcontinental
.
The
building
stood
over
the
street
as
its
tallest
and
proudest
structure
.
Eddie
Willers
always
smiled
at
his
first
sight
of
it
.
Its
long
bands
of
windows
were
unbroken
,
in
contrast
to
those
of
its
neighbors
.
Its
rising
lines
cut
the
sky
,
with
no
crumbling
corners
or
worn
edges
.
It
seemed
to
stand
above
the
years
,
untouched
.
It
would
always
stand
there
,
thought
Eddie
Willers
.
Whenever
he
entered
the
Taggart
Building
,
he
felt
relief
and
a
sense
of
security
.
This
was
a
place
of
competence
and
power
.
The
floors
of
its
hallways
were
mirrors
made
of
marble
.
The
frosted
rectangles
of
its
electric
fixtures
were
chips
of
solid
light
.
Behind
sheets
of
glass
,
rows
of
girls
sat
at
typewriters
,
the
clicking
of
their
keys
like
the
sound
of
speeding
train
wheels
.
And
like
an
answering
echo
,
a
faint
shudder
went
through
the
walls
at
times
,
rising
from
under
the
building
,
from
the
tunnels
of
the
great
terminal
where
trains
started
out
to
cross
a
continent
and
stopped
after
crossing
it
again
,
as
they
had
started
and
stopped
for
generation
after
generation
.
Taggart
Transcontinental
,
thought
Eddie
Willers
,
From
Ocean
to
Ocean
—
the
proud
slogan
of
his
childhood
,
so
much
more
shining
and
holy
than
any
commandment
of
the
Bible
.
From
Ocean
to
Ocean
,
forever
—
thought
Eddie
Willers
,
in
the
manner
of
a
rededication
,
as
he
walked
through
the
spotless
halls
into
the
heart
of
the
building
,
into
the
office
of
James
Taggart
,
President
of
Taggart
Transcontinental
.
James
Taggart
sat
at
his
desk
.
He
looked
like
a
man
approaching
fifty
,
who
had
crossed
into
age
from
adolescence
,
without
the
intermediate
stage
of
youth
.
He
had
a
small
,
petulant
mouth
,
and
thin
hair
clinging
to
a
bald
forehead
.
His
posture
had
a
limp
,
decentralized
sloppiness
,
as
if
in
defiance
of
his
tall
,
slender
body
,
a
body
with
an
elegance
of
line
intended
for
the
confident
poise
of
an
aristocrat
,
but
transformed
into
the
gawkiness
of
a
lout
.
The
flesh
of
his
face
was
pale
and
soft
.
His
eyes
were
pale
and
veiled
,
with
a
glance
that
moved
slowly
,
never
quite
stopping
,
gliding
off
and
past
things
in
eternal
resentment
of
their
existence
.
He
looked
obstinate
and
drained
.
He
was
thirty
-
nine
years
old
.
He
lifted
his
head
with
irritation
,
at
the
sound
of
the
opening
door
.
"
Don
’
t
bother
me
,
don
’
t
bother
me
,
don
’
t
bother
me
,
"
said
James
Taggart
.
