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"
How
do
you
feel
,
Mrs
.
Taggart
?
"
She
heard
the
question
from
somewhere
in
the
circle
of
reporters
.
It
was
like
the
jolt
of
returning
to
consciousness
:
two
words
suddenly
made
everything
real
to
her
.
She
smiled
and
whispered
,
choking
,
"
I
.
.
.
I
’
m
very
happy
.
.
.
"
At
opposite
ends
of
the
ballroom
,
Orren
Boyle
,
who
seemed
too
stout
for
his
full
-
dress
clothes
,
and
Bertram
Scudder
,
who
seemed
too
meager
for
his
,
surveyed
the
crowd
of
guests
with
the
same
thought
,
though
neither
of
them
admitted
that
he
was
thinking
it
.
Orren
Boyle
half
-
told
himself
that
he
was
looking
for
the
faces
of
friends
,
and
Bertram
Scudder
suggested
to
himself
that
he
was
gathering
material
for
an
article
.
But
both
,
unknown
to
each
other
,
were
drawing
a
mental
chart
of
the
faces
they
saw
,
classifying
them
under
two
headings
which
,
if
named
,
would
have
read
:
"
Favor
"
and
"
Fear
.
"
There
were
men
whose
presence
signified
a
special
protection
extended
to
James
Taggart
,
and
men
whose
presence
confessed
a
desire
to
avoid
his
hostility
—
those
who
represented
a
hand
lowered
to
pull
him
up
,
and
those
who
represented
a
back
bent
to
let
him
climb
.
By
the
unwritten
code
of
the
day
,
nobody
received
or
accepted
an
invitation
from
a
man
of
public
prominence
except
in
token
of
one
or
the
other
of
these
motives
.
Those
in
the
first
group
were
,
for
the
most
part
,
youthful
;
they
had
come
from
Washington
.
Those
in
the
second
group
were
older
;
they
were
businessmen
.
Orren
Boyle
and
Bertram
Scudder
were
men
who
used
words
as
a
public
instrument
,
to
be
avoided
in
the
privacy
of
one
’
s
own
mind
.
Words
were
a
commitment
,
carrying
implications
which
they
did
not
wish
to
face
.
They
needed
no
words
for
their
chart
;
the
classification
was
done
by
physical
means
:
a
respectful
movement
of
their
eyebrows
,
equivalent
to
the
emotion
of
the
word
"
So
!
"
for
the
first
group
—
and
a
sarcastic
movement
of
their
lips
,
equivalent
to
the
emotion
of
"
Well
,
well
!
"
for
the
second
.
One
face
blew
up
the
smooth
working
of
their
calculating
mechanisms
for
a
moment
:
when
they
saw
the
cold
blue
eyes
and
blond
hair
of
Hank
Rearden
,
their
muscles
tore
at
the
register
of
the
second
group
in
the
equivalent
of
"
Oh
,
boy
!
"
The
sum
of
the
chart
was
an
estimate
of
James
Taggart
’
s
power
.
It
added
up
to
an
impressive
total
.
They
knew
that
James
Taggart
was
fully
aware
of
it
,
when
they
saw
him
moving
among
his
guests
.
He
walked
briskly
,
in
a
Morse
code
pattern
of
short
dashes
and
brief
stops
,
with
a
manner
of
faint
irritation
,
as
if
conscious
of
the
number
of
people
whom
his
displeasure
might
worry
.
The
hint
of
a
smile
on
his
face
had
a
flavor
of
gloating
—
as
if
he
knew
that
the
act
of
coming
to
honor
him
was
an
act
that
disgraced
the
men
who
had
come
;
as
if
he
knew
and
enjoyed
it
.
