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Отмена
He
took
a
gulp
of
his
drink
and
put
the
glass
down
with
irritation
:
he
did
not
feel
like
drinking
,
either
.
He
paced
the
room
sullenly
,
knowing
that
her
eyes
followed
him
,
enjoying
the
knowledge
,
enjoying
the
sense
of
tremendous
significance
which
his
movements
,
his
cuff
links
,
his
shoelaces
,
his
lampshades
and
ashtrays
acquired
in
that
gentle
,
unquestioning
glance
.
"
Mr
.
Taggart
,
what
is
it
that
makes
you
so
unhappy
?
"
"
Why
should
you
care
whether
I
am
or
not
?
"
Отключить рекламу
"
Because
.
.
.
well
,
if
you
haven
t
the
right
to
be
happy
and
proud
,
who
has
?
"
"
That
s
what
I
want
to
know
who
has
?
"
He
turned
to
her
abruptly
,
the
words
exploding
as
if
a
safety
fuse
had
blown
.
"
He
didn
t
invent
iron
ore
and
blast
furnaces
,
did
he
?
"
"
Who
?
"
Отключить рекламу
"
Rearden
.
He
didn
t
invent
smelting
and
chemistry
and
air
compression
.
He
couldn
t
have
invented
his
Metal
but
for
thousands
and
thousands
of
other
people
.
His
Metal
!
Why
does
he
think
it
s
his
?
Why
does
he
think
it
s
his
invention
?
Everybody
uses
the
work
of
everybody
else
.
Nobody
ever
invents
anything
.
"
She
said
,
puzzled
,
"
But
the
iron
ore
and
all
those
other
things
were
there
all
the
time
.
Why
didn
t
anybody
else
make
that
Metal
,
but
Mr
.
Rearden
did
?
"