-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Айн Рэнд
-
- Атлант расправил плечи
-
- Стр. 754/1581
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
But
—
no
controls
at
all
?
I
don
’
t
go
along
with
that
.
I
think
some
controls
are
necessary
.
The
ones
which
are
for
the
public
good
.
"
"
I
am
sorry
,
gentlemen
,
"
said
Rearden
,
"
that
I
will
be
obliged
to
save
your
goddamn
necks
along
with
mine
.
"
A
group
of
businessmen
headed
by
Mr
.
Mowen
did
not
issue
any
statements
about
the
trial
.
But
a
week
later
they
announced
,
with
an
inordinate
amount
of
publicity
,
that
they
were
endowing
the
construction
of
a
playground
for
the
children
of
the
unemployed
.
Bertram
Scudder
did
not
mention
the
trial
in
his
column
.
But
ten
days
later
,
he
wrote
,
among
items
of
miscellaneous
gossip
:
"
Some
idea
of
the
public
value
of
Mr
.
Hank
Rearden
may
be
gathered
from
the
fact
that
of
all
social
groups
,
he
seems
to
be
most
unpopular
with
his
own
fellow
businessmen
.
His
old
-
fashioned
brand
of
ruthlessness
seems
to
be
too
much
even
for
those
predatory
barons
of
profit
.
"
On
an
evening
in
December
—
when
the
street
beyond
his
window
was
like
a
congested
throat
coughing
with
the
horns
of
pre
-
Christmas
traffic
—
Rearden
sat
in
his
room
at
the
Wayne
-
Falkland
Hotel
,
fighting
an
enemy
more
dangerous
than
weariness
or
fear
:
revulsion
against
the
thought
of
having
to
deal
with
human
beings
.
He
sat
,
unwilling
to
venture
into
the
streets
of
the
city
,
unwilling
to
move
,
as
if
he
were
chained
to
his
chair
and
to
this
room
.
He
had
tried
for
hours
to
ignore
an
emotion
that
felt
like
the
pull
of
homesickness
:
his
awareness
that
the
only
man
whom
he
longed
to
see
,
was
here
,
in
this
hotel
,
just
a
few
floors
above
him
.
He
had
caught
himself
,
in
the
past
few
weeks
,
wasting
time
in
the
lobby
whenever
he
entered
the
hotel
or
left
it
,
loitering
unnecessarily
at
the
mail
counter
or
the
newsstand
,
watching
the
hurried
currents
of
people
,
hoping
to
see
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
among
them
.
He
had
caught
himself
eating
solitary
dinners
in
the
restaurant
of
the
Wayne
-
Falkland
,
with
his
eyes
on
the
curtains
of
the
entrance
doorway
,
Now
he
caught
himself
sitting
in
his
room
,
thinking
that
the
distance
was
only
a
few
floors
.
He
rose
to
his
feet
,
with
a
chuckle
of
amused
indignation
;
he
was
acting
,
he
thought
,
like
a
woman
who
waits
for
a
telephone
call
and
fights
against
the
temptation
to
end
the
torture
by
making
the
first
move
.
There
was
no
reason
,
he
thought
,
why
he
could
not
go
to
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
,
if
that
was
what
he
wanted
.
Yet
when
he
told
himself
that
he
would
,
he
felt
some
dangerous
element
of
surrender
in
the
intensity
of
his
own
relief
.
He
made
a
step
toward
the
phone
,
to
call
Francisco
’
s
suite
,
but
stopped
.
It
was
not
what
he
wanted
;
what
he
wanted
was
simply
to
walk
in
,
unannounced
,
as
Francisco
had
walked
into
his
office
;
it
was
this
that
seemed
to
state
some
unstated
right
between
them
.
