Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand [582]
“It is.”
“I concede that you’re in a position to do anything. That’s why I had to see you.” She added a small, gruntlike sound of amusement, to dilute her statement’s frankness.
“Good,” he said, his voice comfortable and noncommittal.
“I had to come here, because I thought it best, in this particular matter, not to be seen together in public.”
“That is always wise.”
“I seem to remember having been useful to you in the past.”
“In the past—yes.”
“I am sure that I can count on you.”
“Of course—only isn’t that an old-fashioned, unphilosophical remark ? How can we ever be sure of anything?”
“Jim,” she snapped suddenly, “you’ve got to help me!”
“My dear, I’m at your disposal, I’d do anything to help you,” he answered, the rules of their language requiring that any open statement be answered by a blatant lie. Lillian was slipping, he thought—and he experienced the pleasure of dealing with an inadequate adversary.
She was neglecting, he noted, even the perfection of her particular trademark: her grooming. A few strands were escaping from the drilled waves of her hair—her nails, matching her gown, were the deep shade of coagulated blood, which made it easy to notice the chipped polish at their tips—and against the broad, smooth, creamy expanse of her skin in the low, square cut of her gown, he observed the tiny glitter of a safety pin holding the strap of her slip.
“You’ve got to prevent it!” she said, in the belligerent tone of a plea disguised as a command. “You’ve got to stop it!”
“Really? What?”
“My divorce.”
“Oh ... !” His features dropped into sudden earnestness.
“You know that he’s going to divorce me, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard some rumors about it.”
“It’s set for next month. And when I say set, that’s just what I mean. Oh, it’s cost him plenty—but he’s bought the judge, the clerks, the bailiffs, their backers, their backers’ backers, a few legislators, half a dozen administrators—he’s bought the whole legal process, like a private thoroughfare, and there’s no single crossroad left for me to squeeze through to stop it!”
“I see.”
“You know, of course, what made him start divorce proceedings?”
“I can guess.”
“And I did it as a favor to you!” Her voice was growing anxiously shrill. “I told you about your sister in order to let you get that Gift Certificate for your friends, which—”
“I swear I don’t know who let it out!” he cried hastily. “Only a very few at the top knew that you’d been our informer, and I’m sure nobody would dare mention—”
“Oh, I’m sure nobody did. He’d have the brains to guess it, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Well, then you knew that you were taking a chance.”
“I didn’t think he’d go that far. I didn’t think he’d ever divorce me. I didn.‘t—”
He chuckled suddenly, with a glance of astonishing perceptiveness. “You didn’t think that guilt is a rope that wears thin, did you, Lillian?”
She looked at him, startled, then answered stonily, “I don’t think it does.”
“It does, my dear—for men such as your husband.”
“I don’t want him to divorce me!” It was a sudden scream. “I don’t want to let him go free! I won’t permit it! I won’t let the whole of my life be a total failure!” She stopped abruptly, as if she had admitted too much.
He was chuckling softly, nodding his head with a slow movement that had an air of intelligence, almost of dignity, by signifying a complete understanding.
“I mean ... after all, he’s my husband,” she said defensively.
“Yes, Lillian, yes, I know.”
“Do you know what he’s planning? He’s going to get the decree and he’s going to cut me off without a penny—no settlement, no alimony, nothing! He’s going to have the last word. Don’t you see? If he gets away with it, then ... then the Gift Certificate was no victory for me at all!”
“Yes, my dear, I see.”
“And besides ... It’s preposterous that I should have to think of it, but what am I going to live on? The little money I had of my own is worth nothing nowadays. It’s mainly stock in factories of my father’s time, that have closed long ago. What