It seemed to her only that she kept seeing a figure with a raised arm holding a light, and it looked at times like the Statue of Liberty and then it looked like a man with sun-streaked hair, holding a lantern against a midnight sky, a red lantern that stopped the movement of the world. “Don’t take it to heart, lady, whatever it is,” said the bum, in a tone of exhausted compassion. “Nothing’s to be done about it, anyway. . . . What’s the use, lady? Who is John Galt?”
