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After
a
while
,
he
noticed
the
women
around
him
;
they
all
seemed
to
resemble
Lillian
,
with
the
same
look
of
static
grooming
,
with
thin
eyebrows
plucked
to
a
static
lift
and
eyes
frozen
in
static
amusement
.
He
noticed
that
they
were
trying
to
flirt
with
him
,
and
that
Lillian
watched
it
as
if
she
were
enjoying
the
hopelessness
of
their
attempts
.
This
,
then
—
he
thought
—
was
the
happiness
of
feminine
vanity
which
she
had
begged
him
to
give
her
,
these
were
the
standards
which
he
did
not
live
by
,
but
had
to
consider
.
He
turned
for
escape
to
a
group
of
men
.
He
could
not
find
a
single
straight
statement
in
the
conversation
of
the
men
;
whatever
subject
they
seemed
to
be
talking
about
never
seemed
to
be
the
subject
they
were
actually
discussing
.
He
listened
like
a
foreigner
who
recognized
some
of
the
words
,
but
could
not
connect
them
into
sentences
.
A
young
man
,
with
a
look
of
alcoholic
insolence
,
staggered
past
the
group
and
snapped
,
chuckling
,
"
Learned
your
lesson
,
Rearden
?
"
He
did
not
know
what
the
young
rat
had
meant
;
everybody
else
seemed
to
know
it
;
they
looked
shocked
and
secretly
pleased
.
Lillian
drifted
away
from
him
,
as
if
letting
him
understand
that
she
did
not
insist
upon
his
literal
attendance
.
He
retreated
to
a
corner
of
the
room
where
no
one
would
see
him
or
notice
the
direction
of
his
eyes
.
Then
he
permitted
himself
to
look
at
Dagny
.
He
watched
the
gray
dress
,
the
shifting
movement
of
the
soft
cloth
when
she
walked
,
the
momentary
pauses
sculptured
by
the
cloth
,
the
shadows
and
the
light
.
He
saw
it
as
a
bluish
-
gray
smoke
held
shaped
for
an
instant
into
a
long
curve
that
slanted
forward
to
her
knee
and
back
to
the
tip
of
her
sandal
.
He
knew
every
facet
the
light
would
shape
if
the
smoke
were
ripped
away
.
He
felt
a
murky
,
twisting
pain
:
it
was
jealousy
of
every
man
who
spoke
to
her
.
He
had
never
felt
it
before
;
but
he
felt
it
here
,
where
everyone
had
the
right
to
approach
her
,
except
himself
.
Then
,
as
if
a
single
,
sudden
blow
to
his
brain
blasted
a
moment
’
s
shift
of
perspective
,
he
felt
an
immense
astonishment
at
what
he
was
doing
here
and
why
.
He
lost
,
for
that
moment
,
all
the
days
and
dogmas
of
his
past
;
his
concepts
,
his
problems
,
his
pain
were
wiped
out
;
he
knew
only
—
as
from
a
great
,
clear
distance
—
that
man
exists
for
the
achievement
of
his
desires
,
and
he
wondered
why
he
stood
here
,
he
wondered
who
had
the
right
to
demand
that
he
waste
a
single
irreplaceable
hour
of
his
life
,
when
his
only
desire
was
to
seize
the
slender
figure
in
gray
and
hold
her
through
the
length
of
whatever
time
there
was
left
for
him
to
exist
.
In
the
next
moment
,
he
felt
the
shudder
of
recapturing
his
mind
.
He
felt
the
tight
,
contemptuous
movement
of
his
lips
pressed
together
in
token
of
the
words
he
cried
to
himself
:
You
made
a
contract
once
,
now
stick
to
it
.
And
then
he
thought
suddenly
that
in
business
transactions
the
courts
of
law
did
not
recognize
a
contract
wherein
no
valuable
consideration
had
been
given
by
one
party
to
the
other
.
He
wondered
what
made
him
think
of
it
.
The
thought
seemed
irrelevant
.
He
did
not
pursue
it
.
James
Taggart
saw
Lillian
Rearden
drift
casually
toward
him
at
the
one
moment
when
he
chanced
to
be
alone
in
the
dim
corner
between
a
potted
palm
and
a
window
.
He
stopped
and
waited
to
let
her
approach
.
