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- Айн Рэнд
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- Атлант расправил плечи
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- Стр. 1343/1581
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On
the
morning
of
November
4
,
Hank
Rearden
was
awakened
by
the
ringing
of
the
telephone
.
He
opened
his
eyes
to
the
sight
of
a
clear
,
pale
sky
,
the
sky
of
early
dawn
,
in
the
window
of
his
bedroom
,
a
sky
the
delicate
color
of
aquamarine
,
with
the
first
rays
of
an
invisible
sun
giving
a
shade
of
porcelain
pink
to
Philadelphia
’
s
ancient
roof
tops
.
For
a
moment
,
while
his
consciousness
had
a
purity
to
equal
the
sky
’
s
,
while
he
was
aware
of
nothing
but
himself
and
had
not
yet
reharnessed
his
soul
to
the
burden
of
alien
memories
,
he
lay
still
,
held
by
the
sight
and
by
the
enchantment
of
a
world
to
match
it
,
a
world
where
the
style
of
existence
would
be
a
continuous
morning
.
The
telephone
threw
him
back
into
exile
:
it
was
screaming
at
spaced
intervals
,
like
a
nagging
,
chronic
cry
for
help
,
the
kind
of
cry
that
did
not
belong
in
his
world
.
He
lifted
the
receiver
,
frowning
.
"
Hello
?
"
"
Good
morning
,
Henry
,
"
said
a
quavering
voice
;
it
was
his
mother
.
"
Mother
—
at
this
hour
?
"
he
asked
dryly
.
"
Oh
,
you
’
re
always
up
at
dawn
,
and
I
wanted
to
catch
you
before
you
went
to
the
office
.
"
"
Yes
?
What
is
it
?
"
"
I
’
ve
got
to
see
you
,
Henry
.
I
’
ve
got
to
speak
to
you
.
Today
.
Sometime
today
.
It
’
s
important
.
"
"
Has
anything
happened
?
"
