Rearden’s imperturbible glance of curiosity drove him to heedlessness.
The spark vanished, but he went rushing heedlessly on.
His voice had a shrill note of nervousness, as if he were swaying dangerously between caution and some blindly heedless impulse.
It was the contempt that pleased him; it was the strange, heedless, unfamiliar pleasure of knowing that this woman saw him as he was, yet remained held by his presence, remained and leaned back in her chair, as if declaring her bondage.
He felt a sightless, heedless fury, part-horror, part-pleasure-the horror of committing an act he would never dare confess to anyonethe pleasure of committing it in blasphemous defiance of those to whom he would not dare confess it.