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Somewhere
outside
of
him
and
apart
,
as
if
he
were
reading
it
in
a
brain
not
his
own
,
he
observed
the
thought
that
there
was
some
flaw
in
the
scheme
of
the
punishment
she
wanted
him
to
bear
,
something
wrong
by
its
own
terms
,
aside
from
its
propriety
or
justice
,
some
practical
miscalculation
that
would
demolish
it
all
if
discovered
.
He
did
not
attempt
to
discover
it
.
The
thought
went
by
as
a
moment
’
s
notation
,
made
in
cold
curiosity
,
to
be
brought
back
in
some
distant
future
.
There
was
nothing
within
him
now
with
which
to
feel
interest
or
to
respond
.
His
own
brain
was
numb
with
the
effort
to
hold
the
last
of
his
sense
of
justice
against
so
overwhelming
a
tide
of
revulsion
that
it
swamped
Lillian
out
of
human
form
,
past
all
his
pleas
to
himself
that
he
had
no
right
to
feel
it
.
If
she
was
loathsome
,
he
thought
,
it
was
he
who
had
brought
her
to
it
;
this
was
her
way
of
taking
pain
—
no
one
could
prescribe
the
form
of
a
human
being
’
s
attempt
to
bear
suffering
—
no
one
could
blame
—
above
all
,
not
he
,
who
had
caused
it
.
But
he
saw
no
evidence
of
pain
in
her
manner
.
Then
perhaps
the
ugliness
was
the
only
means
she
could
summon
to
hide
it
,
he
thought
.
Then
he
thought
of
nothing
except
of
withstanding
the
revulsion
,
for
the
length
of
the
next
moment
and
of
the
next
.
When
she
stopped
speaking
,
he
asked
,
"
Have
you
finished
?
"
"
Yes
,
I
believe
so
.
"
"
Then
you
had
better
take
the
train
home
now
.
"
When
he
undertook
the
motions
necessary
to
remove
his
evening
clothes
,
he
discovered
that
his
muscles
felt
as
if
he
were
at
the
end
of
a
long
day
of
physical
labor
.
His
starched
shirt
was
limp
with
sweat
.
There
was
neither
thought
nor
feeling
left
in
him
,
nothing
but
a
sense
that
merged
the
remnants
of
both
,
the
sense
of
congratulation
upon
the
greatest
victory
he
had
ever
demanded
of
himself
:
that
Lillian
had
walked
out
of
the
hotel
suite
alive
.
Entering
Rearden
’
s
office
,
Dr
.
Floyd
Ferris
wore
the
expression
of
a
man
so
certain
of
the
success
of
his
quest
that
he
could
afford
a
benevolent
smile
.
He
spoke
with
a
smooth
,
cheerful
assurance
;
Rearden
had
the
impression
that
it
was
the
assurance
of
a
cardsharp
who
has
spent
a
prodigious
effort
in
memorizing
every
possible
variation
of
the
pattern
,
and
is
now
safe
in
the
knowledge
that
every
card
in
the
deck
is
marked
.
"
Well
,
Mr
.
Rearden
,
"
he
said
,
by
way
of
greeting
,
"
I
didn
’
t
know
that
even
a
hardened
hound
of
public
functions
and
shaker
of
famous
hands
,
like
myself
,
could
still
get
a
thrill
out
of
meeting
an
eminent
man
,
but
that
’
s
what
I
feel
right
now
,
believe
it
or
not
.
"
"
How
do
you
do
,
"
said
Rearden
.
