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Could
he
continue
to
let
the
innocent
bear
punishment
?
Could
he
let
her
take
the
stand
he
should
have
taken
?
Could
he
now
defy
the
enemy
’
s
code
,
when
the
disgrace
would
be
hers
,
not
his
—
when
the
muck
would
be
thrown
at
her
,
not
at
him
—
when
she
would
have
to
fight
,
while
he
’
d
be
spared
?
Could
he
let
her
existence
be
turned
into
a
hell
he
would
have
no
way
of
sharing
?
He
sat
still
,
looking
up
at
her
,
I
love
you
,
he
said
to
the
girl
on
the
flatcar
,
silently
pronouncing
the
words
that
had
been
the
meaning
of
that
moment
four
years
ago
,
feeling
the
solemn
happiness
that
belonged
with
the
words
,
even
though
this
was
how
he
had
to
say
it
to
her
for
the
first
time
.
He
looked
down
at
the
Gift
Certificate
.
Dagny
,
he
thought
,
you
would
not
let
me
do
it
if
you
knew
,
you
will
hate
me
for
it
if
you
learn
—
but
I
cannot
let
you
pay
my
debts
.
The
fault
was
mine
and
I
will
not
shift
to
you
the
punishment
which
is
mine
to
take
.
Even
if
I
have
nothing
else
now
left
to
me
,
I
have
this
much
:
that
I
see
the
truth
,
that
I
am
free
of
their
guilt
,
that
I
can
now
stand
guiltless
in
my
own
eyes
,
that
I
know
I
am
right
,
right
fully
and
for
the
first
time
—
and
that
I
will
remain
faithful
to
the
one
commandment
of
my
code
which
I
have
never
broken
:
to
be
a
man
who
pays
his
own
way
.
I
love
you
,
he
said
to
the
girl
on
the
flatcar
,
feeling
as
if
the
light
of
that
summer
’
s
sun
were
touching
his
forehead
,
as
if
he
,
too
,
were
standing
under
an
open
sky
over
an
unobstructed
earth
,
with
nothing
left
to
him
except
himself
"
Well
,
Mr
.
Rearden
?
Are
you
going
to
sign
?
"
asked
Dr
.
Ferris
.
Rearden
’
s
eyes
moved
to
him
.
He
had
forgotten
that
Ferris
was
there
,
he
did
not
know
whether
Ferris
had
been
speaking
,
arguing
or
waiting
in
silence
.
"
Oh
,
that
?
"
said
Rearden
.
He
picked
up
a
pen
and
with
no
second
glance
,
with
the
easy
gesture
of
a
millionaire
signing
a
check
,
he
signed
his
name
at
the
foot
of
the
Statue
of
Liberty
and
pushed
the
Gift
Certificate
across
the
desk
.
"
Where
have
you
been
all
this
time
?
"
Eddie
Willers
asked
the
worker
in
the
underground
cafeteria
,
and
added
,
with
a
smile
that
was
an
appeal
,
an
apology
and
a
confession
of
despair
,
"
Oh
,
I
know
it
’
s
I
who
’
ve
stayed
away
from
here
for
weeks
.
"
The
smile
looked
like
the
effort
of
a
crippled
child
groping
for
a
gesture
that
he
could
not
perform
any
longer
.
"
I
did
come
here
once
,
about
two
weeks
ago
,
but
you
weren
’
t
here
that
night
.
I
was
afraid
you
’
d
gone
.
.
.
so
many
people
are
vanishing
without
notice
.
I
hear
there
’
s
hundreds
of
them
roving
around
the
country
.
The
police
have
been
arresting
them
for
leaving
their
jobs
—
they
’
re
called
deserters
—
but
there
’
s
too
many
of
them
and
no
food
to
feed
them
in
jail
,
so
nobody
gives
a
damn
any
more
,
one
way
or
another
.
I
hear
the
deserters
are
just
wandering
about
,
doing
odd
jobs
or
worse
—
who
’
s
got
any
odd
jobs
to
offer
these
days
?
.
.
.
It
’
s
our
best
men
that
we
’
re
losing
,
the
kind
who
’
ve
been
with
the
company
for
twenty
years
or
more
.
Why
did
they
have
to
chain
them
to
their
jobs
?
Those
men
never
intended
to
quit
—
but
now
they
’
re
quitting
at
the
slightest
disagreement
,
just
dropping
their
tools
and
walking
off
,
any
hour
of
the
day
or
night
,
leaving
us
in
all
sorts
of
jams
—
the
men
who
used
to
leap
out
of
bed
and
come
running
if
the
railroad
needed
them
.
.
.
You
should
see
the
kind
of
human
driftwood
we
’
re
getting
to
fill
the
vacancies
.
Some
of
them
mean
well
,
but
they
’
re
scared
of
their
own
shadows
.
