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He asks how she got here, and seems amused to hear her story of how she crashed the gates of Galt’s Gulch while “trying to land on a prehistorical mirage”.

Bridging that gap is Draut's main task, and as the college educated daughter of a factory worker who grew up to do her labor at a liberal think tank, she has her feet in both the world of her subjects and the world of her audience.

Near the end, in one of the most moving passages of a book that has several of them, she recounts how America did right by her.

She was setting the table, when she saw the figure of a man hurrying up the path to the house, a swift, agile figure that leaped over boulders with the casual ease of a flight. He looked at her as if he had not expected to find a woman in this house.

He wore a dark blue sweater and slacks, he had gold hair and a face of such shocking perfection of beauty that she stood still, staring at him, not in admiration, at first, but in simple disbelief.

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