Атлант расправил плечи
The Concerto of Deliverance
It’simportant."
"Hasanythinghappened?"
"No...yes...thatis...I’vegottohaveatalkwithyouinperson.Willyoucome?"
"I’msorry,Ican’t.IhaveanappointmentinNewYorktonight.Ifyouwantmetocometomorrow—"
"No!No,nottomorrow.It’sgottobetoday.It’sgotto."Therewasadimtoneofpanicinhervoice,butitwasthestalepanicofchronichelplessness,notthesoundofanemergency—exceptforanoddechooffearinhermechanicalinsistence.
"Whatisit,Mother?"
"Ican’ttalkaboutitoverthetelephone,I’vegottoseeyou."
"Thenifyouwishtocometotheoffice—"
"No!Notattheoffice!I’vegottoseeyoualone,wherewecantalk.
Can’tyoucomeheretoday,asafavor?It’syourmotherwho’saskingyouafavor.You’venevercometoseeusatall.Andmaybeyou’renottheonetoblameforit,either.Butcan’tyoudoitformethisonce,ifIbegyouto?"
"Allright,Mother.I’llbethereatfouro’clockthisafternoon."
"Thatwillbefine,Henry.Thankyou,Henry.Thatwillbefine."
Itseemedtohimthattherewasatouchoftensionintheairofthemills,thatday.Itwasatouchtooslighttodefine—butthemills,tohim,werelikethefaceofalovedwifewherehecouldcatchshadesoffeelingalmostaheadofexpression.
