-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Айн Рэнд
-
- Атлант расправил плечи
-
- Стр. 796/1581
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
She
thought
suddenly
that
this
was
the
first
time
in
twelve
years
that
he
had
come
to
her
of
his
own
choice
.
He
had
acted
as
if
he
were
confidently
in
control
,
as
if
his
confidence
were
a
transfusion
to
let
her
recapture
hers
,
he
had
given
her
no
time
to
wonder
that
they
should
be
here
together
.
Now
she
felt
,
unaccountably
,
that
the
reins
he
had
held
were
gone
.
It
was
only
the
silence
of
a
few
blank
moments
and
the
motionless
outline
of
his
forehead
,
cheekbone
and
mouth
,
as
he
sat
with
his
face
turned
away
from
her
—
but
she
felt
as
if
it
were
he
who
was
now
struggling
for
something
he
had
to
recapture
.
She
wondered
what
had
been
his
purpose
tonight
—
and
noticed
that
he
had
,
perhaps
,
accomplished
it
:
he
had
carried
her
over
the
worst
moment
,
he
had
given
her
an
invaluable
defense
against
despair
—
the
knowledge
that
a
living
intelligence
had
heard
her
and
understood
.
But
why
had
he
wanted
to
do
it
?
Why
had
he
cared
about
her
hour
of
despair
—
after
the
years
of
agony
he
had
given
her
?
Why
had
it
mattered
to
him
how
she
would
take
the
death
of
the
John
Galt
Line
?
She
noticed
that
this
was
the
question
she
had
not
asked
him
in
the
lobby
of
the
Taggart
Building
.
This
was
the
bond
between
them
,
she
thought
:
that
she
would
never
be
astonished
if
he
came
when
she
needed
him
most
,
and
that
he
would
always
know
when
to
come
.
This
was
the
danger
:
that
she
would
trust
him
even
while
knowing
that
it
could
be
nothing
but
some
new
kind
of
trap
,
even
while
remembering
that
he
would
always
betray
those
who
trusted
him
.
He
sat
,
leaning
forward
with
his
arms
crossed
on
the
table
,
looking
straight
ahead
.
He
said
suddenly
,
not
turning
to
her
:
"
I
am
thinking
of
the
fifteen
years
that
Sebastian
d
’
Anconia
had
to
wait
for
the
woman
he
loved
.
He
did
not
know
whether
he
would
ever
find
her
again
,
whether
she
would
survive
.
.
.
whether
she
would
wait
for
him
.
But
he
knew
that
she
could
not
live
through
his
battle
and
that
he
could
not
call
her
to
him
until
it
was
won
.
So
he
waited
,
holding
his
love
in
the
place
of
the
hope
which
he
had
no
right
to
hold
.
But
when
he
carried
her
across
the
threshold
of
his
house
,
as
the
first
Senora
d
’
Anconia
of
a
new
world
,
he
knew
that
the
battle
was
won
,
that
they
were
free
,
that
nothing
threatened
her
and
nothing
would
ever
hurt
her
again
.
"
In
the
days
of
their
passionate
happiness
,
he
had
never
given
her
a
hint
that
he
would
come
to
think
of
her
as
Senora
d
’
Anconia
.
For
one
moment
,
she
wondered
whether
she
had
known
what
she
had
meant
to
him
.
But
the
moment
ended
in
an
invisible
shudder
:
she
would
not
believe
that
the
past
twelve
years
could
allow
the
things
she
was
hearing
to
be
possible
.
This
was
the
new
trap
,
she
thought
.
"
Francisco
,
"
she
asked
,
her
voice
hard
,
"
what
have
you
done
to
Hank
Rearden
?
"
He
looked
startled
that
she
should
think
of
that
name
at
that
moment
"
Why
?
"
he
asked
.
