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"
Well
,
hadn
’
t
I
?
Wasn
’
t
it
the
worst
of
what
I
did
to
you
—
that
I
left
you
looking
at
a
cheap
playboy
who
was
not
the
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
you
had
known
?
"
"
Yes
.
.
.
"
she
whispered
,
"
only
the
worst
was
that
I
couldn
’
t
believe
it
.
.
.
I
never
did
.
.
.
It
was
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
that
I
kept
seeing
every
time
I
saw
you
.
.
.
"
"
I
know
.
And
I
know
what
it
did
to
you
.
I
tried
to
help
you
understand
,
but
it
was
too
soon
to
tell
you
.
Dagny
,
if
I
had
told
you
—
that
night
or
the
day
when
you
came
to
damn
me
for
the
San
Sebastian
Mines
—
that
I
was
not
an
aimless
loafer
,
that
I
was
out
to
speed
up
the
destruction
of
everything
we
had
held
sacred
together
,
the
destruction
of
d
’
Anconia
Copper
,
of
Taggart
Transcontinental
,
of
Wyatt
Oil
,
of
Rearden
Steel
—
would
you
have
found
it
easier
to
take
?
"
"
Harder
,
"
she
whispered
.
"
I
’
m
not
sure
I
can
take
it
,
even
now
.
Neither
your
kind
of
renunciation
nor
my
own
.
.
.
But
,
Francisco
"
—
she
threw
her
head
back
suddenly
to
look
up
at
him
—
"
if
this
was
your
secret
,
then
of
all
the
hell
you
had
to
take
,
I
was
—
"
"
Oh
yes
,
my
darling
,
yes
,
you
were
the
worst
of
it
!
"
It
was
a
desperate
cry
,
its
sound
of
laughter
and
of
release
confessing
all
the
agony
he
wanted
to
sweep
away
.
He
seized
her
hand
,
he
pressed
his
mouth
to
it
,
then
his
face
,
not
to
let
her
see
the
reflection
of
what
his
years
had
been
like
.
"
If
it
’
s
any
kind
of
atonement
,
which
it
isn
’
t
.
.
.
whatever
I
made
you
suffer
,
that
’
s
how
I
paid
for
it
.
.
.
by
knowing
what
I
was
doing
to
you
and
having
to
do
it
.
.
.
and
waiting
,
waiting
to
.
.
.
But
it
’
s
over
.
"
He
raised
his
head
,
smiling
,
he
looked
down
at
her
and
she
saw
a
look
of
protective
tenderness
come
into
his
face
,
which
told
her
of
the
despair
he
saw
in
hers
.
"
Dagny
,
don
’
t
think
of
that
.
I
won
’
t
claim
any
suffering
of
mine
as
my
excuse
.
Whatever
my
reason
,
I
knew
what
I
was
doing
and
I
’
ve
hurt
you
terribly
.
I
’
ll
need
years
to
make
up
for
it
.
Forget
what
"
—
she
knew
that
he
meant
:
what
his
embrace
had
confessed
—
"
what
I
haven
’
t
said
.
Of
all
the
things
I
have
to
tell
you
,
that
is
the
one
I
’
ll
say
last
.
"
But
his
eyes
,
his
smile
,
the
grasp
of
his
fingers
on
her
wrist
were
saying
it
against
his
will
.
"
You
’
ve
borne
too
much
,
and
there
’
s
a
great
deal
that
you
have
to
learn
to
understand
in
order
to
lose
every
scar
of
the
torture
you
never
should
have
had
to
bear
.
All
that
matters
now
is
that
you
’
re
free
to
recover
.
We
’
re
free
,
both
of
us
,
we
’
re
free
of
the
looters
,
we
’
re
out
of
their
reach
.
"
She
said
,
her
voice
quietly
desolate
,
"
That
’
s
what
I
came
here
for
—
to
try
to
understand
.
But
I
can
’
t
.
It
seems
monstrously
wrong
to
surrender
the
world
to
the
looters
,
and
monstrously
wrong
to
live
under
their
rule
.
I
can
neither
give
up
nor
go
back
.
I
can
neither
exist
without
work
nor
work
as
a
serf
.
I
had
always
thought
that
any
sort
of
battle
was
proper
,
anything
,
except
renunciation
.
I
’
m
not
sure
we
’
re
right
to
quit
,
you
and
I
,
when
we
should
have
fought
them
.
But
there
is
no
way
to
fight
.
It
’
s
surrender
,
if
we
leave
—
and
surrender
,
if
we
remain
.
I
don
’
t
know
what
is
right
any
longer
.
"
