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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 58/1581
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He
had
offered
his
mother
unlimited
means
to
live
as
and
where
she
pleased
;
he
wondered
why
she
had
insisted
that
she
wanted
to
live
with
him
.
His
success
,
he
had
thought
,
meant
something
to
her
,
and
if
it
did
,
then
it
was
a
bond
between
them
,
the
only
kind
of
bond
he
recognized
;
if
she
wanted
a
place
in
the
home
of
her
successful
son
,
he
would
not
deny
it
to
her
.
"
It
’
s
no
use
hoping
to
make
a
saint
out
of
Henry
,
Mother
,
"
said
Philip
.
"
He
wasn
’
t
meant
to
be
one
.
"
"
Oh
but
,
Philip
,
you
’
re
wrong
!
"
said
Lillian
.
"
You
’
re
so
wrong
!
Henry
has
all
the
makings
of
a
saint
.
That
’
s
the
trouble
.
"
What
did
they
seek
from
him
?
—
thought
Rearden
—
what
were
they
after
?
He
had
never
asked
anything
of
them
;
it
was
they
who
wished
to
hold
him
,
they
who
pressed
a
claim
on
him
—
and
the
claim
seemed
to
have
the
form
of
affection
,
but
it
was
a
form
which
he
found
harder
to
endure
than
any
sort
of
hatred
.
He
despised
causeless
affection
,
just
as
he
despised
unearned
wealth
.
They
professed
to
love
him
for
some
unknown
reason
and
they
ignored
all
the
things
for
which
he
could
wish
to
be
loved
.
He
wondered
what
response
they
could
hope
to
obtain
from
him
in
such
manner
—
if
his
response
was
what
they
wanted
.
And
it
was
,
he
thought
;
else
why
those
constant
complaints
,
those
unceasing
accusations
about
his
indifference
?
Why
that
chronic
air
of
suspicion
,
as
if
they
were
waiting
to
be
hurt
?
He
had
never
had
a
desire
to
hurt
them
,
but
he
had
always
felt
their
defensive
,
reproachful
expectation
;
they
seemed
wounded
by
anything
he
said
,
it
was
not
a
matter
of
his
words
or
actions
,
it
was
almost
.
.
.
almost
as
if
they
were
wounded
by
the
mere
fact
of
his
being
.
Don
’
t
start
imagining
the
insane
-
he
told
himself
severely
,
struggling
to
face
the
riddle
with
the
strictest
of
his
ruthless
sense
of
justice
.
He
could
not
condemn
them
without
understanding
;
and
he
could
not
understand
.
Did
he
like
them
?
No
,
he
thought
;
he
had
wanted
to
like
them
,
which
was
not
the
same
.
He
had
wanted
it
in
the
name
of
some
unstated
potentiality
which
he
had
once
expected
to
see
in
any
human
being
.
He
felt
nothing
for
them
now
,
nothing
but
the
merciless
zero
of
indifference
,
not
even
the
regret
of
a
loss
.
Did
he
need
any
person
as
part
of
his
life
?
Did
he
miss
the
feeling
he
had
wanted
to
feel
?
No
,
he
thought
.
Had
he
ever
missed
it
?
Yes
,
he
thought
,
in
his
youth
;
not
any
longer
.
His
sense
of
exhaustion
was
growing
;
he
realized
that
it
was
boredom
.
He
owed
them
the
courtesy
of
hiding
it
,
he
thought
—
and
sat
motionless
,
fighting
a
desire
for
sleep
that
was
turning
into
physical
pain
.
His
eyes
were
closing
,
when
he
felt
two
soft
,
moist
fingers
touching
his
hand
:
Paul
Larkin
had
pulled
a
chair
to
his
side
and
was
leaning
over
for
a
private
conversation
.
"
I
don
’
t
care
what
the
industry
says
about
it
,
Hank
,
you
’
ve
got
a
great
product
in
Rearden
Metal
,
a
great
product
,
it
will
make
a
fortune
,
like
everything
you
touch
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
said
Rearden
,
"
it
will
.
"
