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15
,
was
an
heir
who
had
inherited
his
fortune
,
and
who
had
kept
repeating
,
"
Why
should
Rearden
be
the
only
one
permitted
to
manufacture
Rearden
Metal
?
"
The
man
in
Bedroom
A
,
Car
No
.
16
,
was
a
humanitarian
who
had
said
,
"
The
men
of
ability
?
I
do
not
care
what
or
if
they
are
made
to
suffer
.
They
must
be
penalized
in
order
to
support
the
incompetent
.
Frankly
,
I
do
not
care
whether
this
is
just
or
not
.
I
take
pride
in
not
caring
to
grant
any
justice
to
the
able
,
where
mercy
to
the
needy
is
concerned
.
"
These
passengers
were
awake
;
there
was
not
a
man
aboard
the
train
who
did
not
share
one
or
more
of
their
ideas
.
As
the
train
went
into
the
tunnel
,
the
flame
of
Wyatt
’
s
Torch
was
the
last
thing
they
saw
on
earth
.
The
sun
touched
the
tree
tops
on
the
slope
of
the
hill
,
and
they
looked
a
bluish
-
silver
,
catching
the
color
of
the
sky
.
Dagny
stood
at
the
door
of
the
cabin
,
with
the
first
sunrays
on
her
forehead
and
miles
of
forest
spread
under
her
feet
.
The
leaves
went
down
from
silver
to
green
to
the
smoky
blue
of
the
shadows
on
the
road
below
.
The
light
trickled
down
through
the
branches
and
shot
upward
in
sudden
spurts
when
it
hit
a
clump
of
ferns
that
became
a
fountain
of
green
rays
.
It
gave
her
pleasure
to
watch
the
motion
of
the
light
over
a
stillness
where
nothing
else
could
move
.
She
had
marked
the
date
,
as
she
did
each
morning
,
on
the
sheet
of
paper
she
had
tacked
to
the
wall
of
her
room
.
The
progression
of
the
dates
on
that
paper
was
the
only
movement
in
the
stillness
of
her
days
,
like
the
record
kept
by
a
prisoner
on
a
desert
island
.
This
morning
’
s
date
was
May
28
.
She
had
intended
the
dates
to
lead
to
a
purpose
,
but
she
could
not
say
whether
she
had
reached
it
or
not
.
She
had
come
here
with
three
assignments
given
,
as
orders
,
to
herself
:
rest
—
learn
to
live
without
the
railroad
—
get
the
pain
out
of
the
way
.
Get
it
out
of
the
way
,
were
the
words
she
used
.
She
felt
as
if
she
were
tied
to
some
wounded
stranger
who
could
be
stricken
at
any
moment
by
an
attack
that
would
drown
her
in
his
screams
.
She
felt
no
pity
for
the
stranger
,
only
a
contemptuous
impatience
;
she
had
to
fight
him
and
destroy
him
,
then
her
way
would
be
clear
to
decide
what
she
wished
to
do
;
but
the
stranger
was
not
easy
to
fight
.
The
assignment
to
rest
had
been
easier
.
She
found
that
she
liked
the
solitude
;
she
awakened
in
the
morning
with
a
feeling
of
confident
benevolence
,
the
sense
that
she
could
venture
forth
and
be
willing
to
deal
with
whatever
she
found
.
In
the
city
,
she
had
lived
in
chronic
tension
to
withstand
the
shock
of
anger
,
indignation
,
disgust
,
contempt
.
The
only
danger
to
threaten
her
here
was
the
simple
pain
of
some
physical
accident
;
it
seemed
innocent
and
easy
by
comparison
,
The
cabin
was
far
from
any
traveled
road
;
it
had
remained
as
her
father
had
left
it
.
She
cooked
her
meals
on
a
wood
-
burning
stove
and
gathered
the
wood
on
the
hillsides
.
She
cleared
the
brush
from
under
her
walls
,
she
reshingled
the
roof
,
she
repainted
the
door
and
the
frames
of
the
windows
.
Rains
,
weeds
and
brush
had
swallowed
the
steps
of
what
had
once
been
a
terraced
path
rising
up
the
hill
from
the
road
to
the
cabin
.
She
rebuilt
it
,
clearing
the
terraces
,
re
-
laying
the
stones
,
bracing
the
banks
of
soft
earth
with
walls
of
boulders
.
It
gave
her
pleasure
to
devise
complex
systems
of
levers
and
pulleys
out
of
old
scraps
of
iron
and
rope
,
then
to
move
weights
of
rock
that
were
much
beyond
her
physical
power
.
She
planted
a
few
seeds
of
nasturtiums
and
morning
glories
,
to
see
one
spreading
slowly
over
the
ground
and
the
other
climbing
up
the
tree
trunks
,
to
see
them
grow
,
to
see
progression
and
movement
.
The
work
gave
her
the
calm
she
needed
;
she
had
not
noticed
how
she
began
it
or
why
;
she
had
started
without
conscious
intention
,
but
she
saw
it
growing
under
her
hands
,
pulling
her
forward
,
giving
her
a
healing
sense
of
peace
.
Then
she
understood
that
what
she
needed
was
the
motion
to
a
purpose
,
no
matter
how
small
or
in
what
form
,
the
sense
of
an
activity
going
step
by
step
to
some
chosen
end
across
a
span
of
time
.
The
work
of
cooking
a
meal
was
like
a
closed
circle
,
completed
and
gone
,
leading
nowhere
.
But
the
work
of
building
a
path
was
a
living
sum
,
so
that
no
day
was
left
to
die
behind
her
,
but
each
day
contained
all
those
that
preceded
it
,
each
day
acquired
its
immortality
on
every
succeeding
tomorrow
.
A
circle
,
she
thought
,
is
the
movement
proper
to
physical
nature
,
they
say
that
there
’
s
nothing
but
circular
motion
in
the
inanimate
universe
around
us
,
but
the
straight
line
is
the
badge
of
man
,
the
straight
line
of
a
geometrical
abstraction
that
makes
roads
,
rails
and
bridges
,
the
straight
line
that
cuts
the
curving
aimlessness
of
nature
by
a
purposeful
motion
from
a
start
to
an
end
.
