Who is John Galt?"

The light was ebbing, and Eddie Willers could not distinguish the bum's face. The bum had said it simply,

without expression. But from the sunset far at the end of the street, yellow glints caught his eyes, and the

eyes looked straight at Eddie Willers, mocking and still—as if the question had been addressed to the

causeless uneasiness within him.

"Why did you say that?" asked Eddie Willers, his voice tense.

The bum leaned against the side of the doorway; a wedge of broken glass behind him reflected the metal

yellow of the sky.

"Why does it bother you?" he asked.

"It doesn't," snapped Eddie Willers.