-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Айн Рэнд
-
- Атлант расправил плечи
-
- Стр. 695/1581
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
There
was
only
a
faint
red
breath
above
the
structures
in
the
darkness
,
as
if
the
mills
were
asleep
but
alive
,
with
the
even
breathing
of
the
furnaces
and
the
distant
heartbeats
of
the
conveyor
belts
to
show
it
.
Rearden
stood
at
the
window
of
his
office
,
his
hand
pressed
to
the
pane
;
in
the
perspective
of
distance
,
his
hand
covered
half
a
mile
of
structures
,
as
if
he
were
trying
to
hold
them
.
He
was
looking
at
a
long
wall
of
vertical
strips
,
which
was
the
battery
of
coke
ovens
.
A
narrow
door
slid
open
with
a
brief
gasp
of
flame
,
and
a
sheet
of
red
-
glowing
coke
came
sliding
out
smoothly
,
like
a
slice
of
bread
from
the
side
of
a
giant
toaster
.
It
held
still
for
an
instant
,
then
an
angular
crack
shot
through
the
slice
and
it
crumbled
into
a
gondola
waiting
on
the
rails
below
.
Danagger
coal
,
he
thought
.
These
were
the
only
words
in
his
mind
.
The
rest
was
a
feeling
of
loneliness
,
so
vast
that
even
its
own
pain
seemed
swallowed
in
an
enormous
void
.
Yesterday
,
Dagny
had
told
him
the
story
of
her
futile
attempt
and
given
him
Danagger
’
s
message
.
This
morning
,
he
had
heard
the
news
that
Danagger
had
disappeared
.
Through
his
sleepless
night
,
then
through
the
taut
concentration
on
the
duties
of
the
day
,
his
answer
to
the
message
had
kept
beating
in
his
mind
,
the
answer
he
would
never
have
a
chance
to
utter
.
"
The
only
man
I
ever
loved
.
"
It
came
from
Ken
Danagger
,
who
had
never
expressed
anything
more
personal
than
"
Look
here
,
Rearden
.
"
He
thought
:
Why
had
we
let
it
go
?
Why
had
we
both
been
condemned
—
in
the
hours
away
from
our
desks
—
to
an
exile
among
dreary
strangers
who
had
made
us
give
up
all
desire
for
rest
,
for
friendship
,
for
the
sound
of
human
voices
?
Could
I
now
reclaim
a
single
hour
spent
listening
to
my
brother
Philip
and
give
it
to
Ken
Danagger
?
Who
made
it
our
duty
to
accept
,
as
the
only
reward
for
our
work
,
the
gray
torture
of
pretending
love
for
those
who
roused
us
to
nothing
but
contempt
?
We
who
were
able
to
melt
rock
and
metal
for
our
purpose
,
why
had
we
never
sought
that
which
we
wanted
from
men
?
He
tried
to
choke
the
words
in
his
mind
,
knowing
that
it
was
useless
to
think
of
them
now
.
But
the
words
were
there
and
they
were
like
words
addressed
to
the
dead
:
No
,
I
don
’
t
damn
you
for
leaving
—
if
that
is
the
question
and
the
pain
which
you
took
away
with
you
.
Why
didn
’
t
you
give
me
a
chance
to
tell
you
.
.
.
what
?
that
I
approve
?
.
.
.
no
,
but
that
I
can
neither
blame
you
nor
follow
you
.
