Atlas Shrugged [512]
"If you change your mind," said Francisco, "I'll hire you on the spot--or Midas will give you a loan in five minutes to finance that railroad, if you want to own it yourself."
She shook her head. "I can't . . ." she whispered, "not yet . . ."
She raised her eyes, knowing that they knew the nature of her despair and that it was useless to hide her struggle. "I've tried it once,"
she said. "I've tried to give it up . . . I know what it will mean . . .
I'll think of it with every crosstie I'll see laid here, with every spike driven . . . I'll think of that other tunnel and . . . and of Nat Taggart's bridge. . . . Oh, if only I didn't have to hear about it! If only I could stay here and never know what they're doing to the railroad, and never learn when it goes!"
"You'll have to hear about it," said Galt; it was that ruthless tone, peculiarly his, which sounded implacable by being simple, devoid of any emotional value, save the quality of respect for facts. "You'll hear the whole course of the last agony of Taggart Transcontinental.
You'll hear about every wreck. You'll hear about every discontinued train. You'll hear about every abandoned line. You'll hear about the collapse of the Taggart Bridge. Nobody stays in this valley except by a full, conscious choice based on a full, conscious knowledge of every fact involved in his decision. Nobody stays here by faking reality in any manner whatever."
She looked at him, her head lifted, knowing what chance he was rejecting. She thought that no man of the outer world would have said this to her at this moment-she thought of the world's code that worshipped white lies as an act of mercy-she felt a stab of revulsion against that code, suddenly seeing its full ugliness for the first time-
she felt an enormous pride for the tight, clean face of the man before her-he saw the shape of her mouth drawn firm in self-control, yet softened by some tremulous emotion, while she answered quietly, "Thank you. You're right."
"You don't have to answer me now," he said. "You'll tell me when you've decided. There's still a week left."
"Yes," she said calmly, "just one more week."
He turned, picked up her crumpled sketch, folded it neatly and slipped it into his pocket.
"Dagny," said Francisco, "when you weigh your decision, consider the first time you quit, if you wish, but consider everything about it.
In this valley, you won't have to torture yourself by shingling roofs and building paths that lead nowhere."
"Tell me," she asked suddenly, "how did you find out where I was, that time?'1
He smiled. "It was John who told me. The destroyer, remember?
You wondered why the destroyer had not sent anyone after you. But he had. It was he who sent me there."
"He sent you?"
"Yes."
"What did he say to you?"
"Nothing much. Why?"
"What did he say? Do you remember the exact words?"
"Yes, I do remember. He said, 'If you want your chance, take it.
You've earned it.' I remember, because-" He turned to Galt with the untroubled frown of a slight, casual puzzle. "John, I never quite understood why you said it. Why that? Why-my chance?"
"Do you mind if I don't answer you now?"
"No, but-"
Someone hailed him from the ledges of the mine, and he went off swiftly, as if the subject required no further attention.
She was conscious of the long span of moments she took while turning her head to Galt. She knew that she would find him looking at her. She could read nothing in his eyes, except a hint of derision, as if he knew what answer she was seeking and that she would not find it in his face.
"You gave him a chance that you wanted?"
"I could have no chance till he'd had every chance possible to him."
"How did you know what he had earned?"
"I had been questioning him about you for ten years, every time I could, in every way, from every angle. No, he did not tell me-it was the way he spoke of you that did. He didn't want to speak, but he spoke too eagerly, eagerly and reluctantly together-and then I knew that it had not been just a childhood friendship. I knew how much he had given up for the