Here's another Rand strip, this time from THE FOUNTAINHEAD, the earlier of Rand's major novel efforts. I know you detest Rand and think I'm deluded to like her work, but my towering genius and all-encompassing competence and adventurer skills could not care less about what you think. Well anyway, this one is not from "Atlas Shrugged." It is from the story of flame-haired architect hero Howard Roark, whose buildings you can still see shining against many American cities. Wait, he wasn't real? And the buildings were designed by Germans and Chinese? No way.
So this little sequence doesn't even have Roark in it. It takes place on the private yacht of newspaper magnate Gail Wynand, where he is dining with his new bride Dominique Francon, who was Roark's lover in the past. English was not Rand's original language and sometimes you can really tell this. In the first panel Dominique says, "This ship is becoming to you." Huh? I think what she really means is, "This ship makes you look good especially since you have so much money and power." He replies, "...Is the art gallery?" As in, with a slight note of uncertainty, what about all the fancy fine art I have collected, doesn't that show that not only am I rich and powerful, but I'm classy and have good taste? She doesn't buy it, which is pretty nervy for a new cultural trophy bride, and she says, "Yes, only that's less excusable." Which means, no matter how many Paul Klee's or Picassos you have, you are still a hustler who clawed his way up from the slums. Then, realizing that maybe Dominique is going to be a bit of a problem, he lights one up and says, "I don't want you to make excuses for me." In other words, I don't give a f**k what you say to me, as long as you keep writing those puffy arts-and-culture columns (she works for his papers, you see) and you make public appearances looking like a gorgeous piece of ass that is mine (a la Donald Trump, who Rand might have just adored.).
Ink on illustration board, about 9" x 3 1/2", early 1980s.