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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 221/1581
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"
Henry
entertaining
thoughts
of
infidelity
?
You
flatter
him
,
Philip
.
You
overestimate
his
courage
.
"
She
smiled
at
Rearden
,
coldly
,
for
a
brief
,
stressed
moment
,
then
moved
away
.
Rearden
looked
at
his
brother
.
"
What
in
hell
do
you
think
you
’
re
doing
?
"
"
Oh
,
stop
playing
the
Puritan
!
Can
’
t
you
take
a
joke
?
"
Moving
aimlessly
through
the
crowd
,
Dagny
wondered
why
she
had
accepted
the
invitation
to
this
party
.
The
answer
astonished
her
:
it
was
because
she
had
wanted
to
see
Hank
Rearden
.
Watching
him
in
the
crowd
,
she
realized
the
contrast
for
the
first
time
.
The
faces
of
the
others
looked
like
aggregates
of
interchangeable
features
,
every
face
oozing
to
blend
into
the
anonymity
of
resembling
all
,
and
all
looking
as
if
they
were
melting
.
Rearden
’
s
face
,
with
the
sharp
planes
,
the
pale
blue
eyes
,
the
ash
-
blond
hair
,
had
the
firmness
of
ice
;
the
uncompromising
clarity
of
its
lines
made
it
look
,
among
the
others
,
as
if
he
were
moving
through
a
fog
,
hit
by
a
ray
of
light
.
Her
eyes
kept
returning
to
him
involuntarily
.
She
never
caught
him
glancing
in
her
direction
.
She
could
not
believe
that
he
was
avoiding
her
intentionally
;
there
could
be
no
possible
reason
for
it
;
yet
she
felt
certain
that
he
was
.
She
wanted
to
approach
him
and
convince
herself
that
she
was
mistaken
.
Something
stopped
her
;
she
could
not
understand
her
own
reluctance
.
Rearden
bore
patiently
a
conversation
with
his
mother
and
two
ladies
whom
she
wished
him
to
entertain
with
stories
of
his
youth
and
his
struggle
.
He
complied
,
telling
himself
that
she
was
proud
of
him
in
her
own
way
.
But
he
felt
as
if
something
in
her
manner
kept
suggesting
that
she
had
nursed
him
through
his
struggle
and
that
she
was
the
source
of
his
success
.
He
was
glad
when
she
let
him
go
.
Then
he
escaped
once
more
to
the
recess
of
the
window
.
He
stood
there
for
a
while
,
leaning
on
a
sense
of
privacy
as
if
it
were
a
physical
support
.
"
Mr
.
Rearden
,
"
said
a
strangely
quiet
voice
beside
him
,
"
permit
me
to
introduce
myself
.
My
name
is
d
‘
Anconia
.
"
Rearden
turned
,
startled
;
d
‘
Anconia
’
s
manner
and
voice
had
a
quality
he
had
seldom
encountered
before
:
a
tone
of
authentic
respect
.
