“What are you after?”
“Don’t you have enough?”
“In his lifetime, every one of my ancestors raised the production of d’Anconia Copper by about ten per cent. I intend to raise it by one hundred.”
“What for?” Jim asked, in sarcastic imitation of Francisco’s voice.
“When I die, I hope to go to heaven- whatever the hell that is- and I want to be able to afford the price of admission.”
“Virtue is the price of admission,” Jim said haughtily.
“That’s what I mean, James. So I want to be prepared to claim the greatest virtue of all- that I was a man who made money.”
“Any grafter can make money.”
“James, you ought to discover some day that words have an exact meaning.”
Francisco smiled; it was a smile of radiant mockery. Watching them, Dagny thought suddenly of the difference between Francisco and her brother Jim. Both of them smiled derisively. But Francisco seemed to laugh at things because he saw something much greater. Jim laughed as if he wanted to let nothing remain great.