sometimes I feel Wynand's patronage

[atlashead]

He had a studio, a huge, sloppy place in an old building. She noticed the change since her last visit. The room had an air of laughter, like a breath held too long and released. She saw second-hand furniture, an Oriental rug of rare texture and sensuous color, jade ash trays, pieces of sculpture that came from historical excavations, anything he had wished to seize, helped by the sudden fortune of Wynand’s patronage. The walls looked strangely bare above the gay clutter. He had bought no paintings. A single sketch hung over his studio--Roark’s original drawing of the Stoddard Temple.
For instance, my dogtags, or an album I did, or the sculpture I did.  Wealth is a beautiful thing