The butler entered, carrying a tray of cocktails. Holding her glass, she watchedRoark take his off the tray. She thought: At this moment the glass stem betweenhis fingers feels just like the one between mine; we have this much incommon....Wynand stood, holding a glass, looking at Roark with a strange kind ofincredulous wonder, not like a host, like an owner who cannot quite believe hisownership of his prize possession....She thought: I’m not insane. I’m onlyhysterical, but it’s quite all right, I’m saying something, I don’t know what itis, but it must be all right, they are both listening and answering, Gail issmiling, I must be saying the proper things....Dinner was announced and she rose obediently; she led the way to the diningroom, like a graceful animal given poise by conditioned reflexes. She sat at thehead of the table, between the two men facing each other at her sides. Shewatched the silverware in Roark’s fingers, the pieces of polished metal with theinitials "D W." She thought: I have done this so many times--I am the graciousMrs. Gail Wynand--there were Senators, judges, presidents of insurancecompanies, sitting at dinner in that place at my right--and this is what I wasbeing trained for, this is why Gail has been rising through tortured years tothe position of entertaining Senators and judges at dinner--for the purpose ofreaching an evening when the guest facing him would be Howard Roark.Wynand spoke about the newspaper business; he showed no reluctance to discuss itwith Roark, and she pronounced a few sentences when it seemed necessary. Hervoice had a luminous simplicity; she was being carried along, unresisting, anypersonal reaction would be superfluous, even pain or fear. She thought, if inthe flow of conversation Wynand’s next sentence should be: "You’ve slept withhim," she would answer: "Yes, Gail, of course," just as simply. But Wynandseldom looked at her; when he did, she knew by his face that hers was normal.