-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Айн Рэнд
-
- Атлант расправил плечи
-
- Стр. 1116/1581
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
I
hope
that
I
shall
never
have
to
see
again
a
change
of
that
kind
in
a
man
’
s
face
.
He
saw
me
approaching
—
and
he
did
not
know
,
but
I
knew
,
what
made
him
whirl
upon
me
and
cry
,
‘
I
’
m
so
sick
of
all
of
you
Impractical
idealists
!
’
I
turned
away
.
I
knew
that
I
had
heard
a
man
pronounce
a
death
sentence
upon
himself
.
.
.
Miss
Taggart
,
do
you
remember
the
question
you
asked
me
about
my
three
pupils
?
"
"
Yes
,
"
she
whispered
.
"
I
could
gather
,
from
your
question
,
the
nature
of
what
Robert
Stadler
had
said
to
you
about
them
.
Tell
me
,
why
did
he
speak
of
them
at
all
?
"
He
saw
the
faint
movement
of
her
bitter
smile
.
"
He
told
me
their
story
as
a
justification
for
his
belief
in
the
futility
of
human
intelligence
.
and
Feed
—
words
raised
like
flags
to
the
empty
darkness
of
the
sky
,
the
motionless
forms
of
movement
,
of
effort
,
of
courage
,
of
hope
,
the
monuments
to
how
much
had
been
achieved
on
the
edge
of
nature
’
s
void
by
men
who
had
once
been
free
to
achieve
—
she
saw
the
homes
built
in
scattered
privacy
,
the
small
shops
,
the
wide
streets
with
electric
lighting
,
like
a
few
luminous
strokes
criss
-
crossed
on
the
black
sheet
of
the
wastelands
—
she
saw
the
ghosts
between
,
the
remnants
of
towns
,
the
skeletons
of
factories
with
crumbling
smokestacks
,
the
corpses
of
shops
with
broken
panes
,
the
slanting
poles
with
shreds
of
wire
—
she
saw
a
sudden
blaze
,
the
rare
sight
of
a
gas
station
,
a
glittering
white
island
of
glass
and
metal
under
the
huge
black
weight
of
space
and
sky
—
she
saw
an
ice
-
cream
cone
made
of
radiant
tubing
,
hanging
above
the
corner
of
a
street
,
and
a
battered
car
being
parked
below
,
with
a
young
boy
at
the
wheel
and
a
girl
stepping
out
,
her
white
dress
blowing
in
the
summer
wind
—
she
shuddered
for
the
two
of
them
,
thinking
:
I
can
’
t
look
at
you
,
I
who
know
what
it
has
taken
to
give
you
your
youth
,
to
give
you
this
evening
,
this
car
and
the
ice
-
cream
cone
you
’
re
going
to
buy
for
a
quarter
—
she
saw
,
on
the
edge
beyond
a
town
,
a
building
glowing
with
tiers
of
pale
blue
light
,
the
industrial
light
she
loved
,
with
the
silhouettes
of
machines
in
its
windows
and
a
billboard
in
the
darkness
above
its
roof
—
and
suddenly
her
head
fell
on
her
arm
,
and
she
sat
shaking
,
crying
soundlessly
to
the
night
,
to
herself
,
to
whatever
was
human
in
any
living
being
:
Don
’
t
let
it
go
!
.
.
.
Don
’
t
let
it
go
!
.
.
.
She
jumped
to
her
feet
and
snapped
on
the
light
.
She
stood
still
,
fighting
to
regain
control
,
knowing
that
such
moments
were
her
greatest
danger
.
The
lights
of
the
town
were
past
,
her
window
was
now
an
empty
rectangle
,
and
she
heard
,
in
the
silence
,
the
progression
of
the
fourth
knocks
,
the
steps
of
the
enemy
moving
on
,
not
to
be
hastened
or
stopped
.
In
desperate
need
of
the
sight
of
some
living
activity
,
she
decided
she
would
not
order
dinner
in
her
car
,
but
would
go
to
the
diner
.
As
if
stressing
and
mocking
her
loneliness
,
a
voice
came
back
to
her
mind
:
"
But
you
would
not
run
trains
if
they
were
empty
.
"
Forget
it
!
—
she
told
herself
angrily
,
walking
hastily
to
the
door
of
her
car
.
She
was
astonished
,
approaching
her
vestibule
,
to
hear
the
sound
of
voices
close
by
.
As
she
pulled
the
door
open
,
she
heard
a
shout
:
"
Get
off
,
God
damn
you
!
"
An
aging
tramp
had
taken
refuge
in
the
corner
of
her
vestibule
.
