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"
Well
,
things
are
being
done
,
"
he
said
.
"
Steps
are
being
taken
.
Constructive
steps
.
The
Legislature
has
passed
a
Bill
giving
wider
powers
to
the
Bureau
of
Economic
Planning
and
National
Resources
.
They
’
ve
appointed
a
very
able
man
as
Top
Co
-
ordinator
.
Can
’
t
say
I
’
ve
heard
of
him
before
,
but
the
newspapers
said
he
’
s
a
man
to
be
watched
.
His
name
is
Wesley
Mouch
.
"
Dagny
stood
at
the
window
of
her
living
room
,
looking
at
the
city
.
It
was
late
and
the
lights
were
like
the
last
sparks
left
glittering
on
the
black
remnants
of
a
bonfire
.
She
felt
at
peace
,
and
she
wished
she
could
hold
her
mind
still
to
let
her
own
emotions
catch
up
with
her
,
to
look
at
every
moment
of
the
month
that
had
rushed
past
her
.
She
had
had
no
time
to
feel
that
she
was
back
in
her
own
office
at
Taggart
Transcontinental
;
there
had
been
so
much
to
do
that
she
forgot
it
was
a
return
from
exile
.
She
had
not
noticed
what
Jim
had
said
on
her
return
or
whether
he
had
said
anything
.
There
had
been
only
one
person
whose
reaction
she
had
wanted
to
know
;
she
had
telephoned
the
Wayne
-
Falkland
Hotel
;
but
Senor
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
,
she
was
told
,
had
gone
back
to
Buenos
Aires
.
She
remembered
the
moment
when
she
signed
her
name
at
the
bottom
of
a
long
legal
page
;
it
was
the
moment
that
ended
the
John
Galt
Line
.
Now
it
was
the
Rio
Norte
Line
of
Taggart
Transcontinental
again
—
except
that
the
men
of
the
train
crews
refused
to
give
up
its
name
.
She
,
too
,
found
it
hard
to
give
up
;
she
forced
herself
not
to
call
it
"
the
John
Galt
,
"
and
wondered
why
that
required
an
effort
,
and
why
she
felt
a
faint
wrench
of
sadness
.
One
evening
,
on
a
sudden
impulse
,
she
had
turned
the
corner
of
the
Taggart
Building
,
for
a
last
look
at
the
office
of
John
Galt
,
Inc
.
,
in
the
alley
;
she
did
not
know
what
she
wanted
—
just
to
see
it
,
she
thought
.
A
plank
barrier
had
been
raised
along
the
sidewalk
:
the
old
building
was
being
demolished
;
it
had
given
up
,
at
last
.
She
had
climbed
over
the
planks
and
,
by
the
light
of
the
street
lamp
that
had
once
thrown
a
stranger
’
s
shadow
across
the
pavement
,
she
had
looked
in
through
the
window
of
her
former
office
.
Nothing
was
left
of
the
ground
floor
;
the
partitions
had
been
torn
down
,
there
were
broken
pipes
hanging
from
the
ceiling
and
a
pile
of
rubble
on
the
floor
.
There
was
nothing
to
see
.
She
had
asked
Rearden
whether
he
had
come
there
one
night
last
spring
and
stood
outside
her
window
,
fighting
his
desire
to
enter
.
But
she
had
known
,
even
before
he
answered
,
that
he
had
not
.
She
did
not
tell
him
why
she
asked
it
.
She
did
not
know
why
that
memory
still
disturbed
her
at
times
.
Beyond
the
window
of
her
living
room
,
the
lighted
rectangle
of
the
calendar
hung
like
a
small
shipping
tag
in
the
black
sky
.
It
read
:
September
2
.
She
smiled
defiantly
,
remembering
the
race
she
had
run
against
its
changing
pages
;
there
were
no
deadlines
now
,
she
thought
,
no
barriers
,
no
threats
,
no
limits
.
