Connie was aware, however, of a growing restlessness. Out of her disconnexion, a restlessness was taking possession of her like madness. It twitched her limbs when she didn't want to twitch them, it jerked her spine when she didn't want to jerk upright but preferred to rest comfortably. It thrilled inside her body, in her womb, somewhere, till she felt she must jump into water and swim to get away from it; a mad restlessness. It made her heart beat violently for no reason. And she was getting thinner.

然而，康妮觉察到不安的情绪一天天在累积。与世隔绝的生活，使得烦乱的感觉近乎疯狂地将她攫住。这种情绪不合时宜地牵动她的四肢，当她想舒适地休息时，又突如其来地拉直她的脊骨。这种情绪在她的体内震颤，在子宫的什么地方，为了将其摆脱，她必须得跃入水中畅泳，一种疯狂的纷乱。这种情绪总让她的心房无端地猛跳。于是，康妮日渐消瘦。

It was just restlessness. She would rush off across the park, abandon Clifford, and lie prone in the bracken. To get away from the house...she must get away from the house and everybody. The work was her one refuge, her sanctuary.

正是因为这种不安。她会抛开克利福德，疾奔着穿过花园，俯卧在蕨草丛中。为的只是摆脱拉格比府，她必须摆脱那座宅邸，摆脱所有的人。树林成为她的那个避难处，她的庇护所。

But it was not really a refuge, a sanctuary, because she had no connexion with it. It was only a place where she could get away from the rest. She never really touched the spirit of the wood itself...if it had any such nonsensical thing.

但树林也并非逃避现实的理想处所，因为她和那里同样没有任何干系。置身此地，只能让康妮体验到暂时的孑然。她从未触及到林木的灵魂……假如当真有如此荒诞的东西。

Vaguely she knew herself that she was going to pieces in some way. Vaguely she knew she was out of connexion: she had lost touch with the substantial and vital world. Only Clifford and his books, which did not exist...which had nothing in them! Void to void. Vaguely she knew. But it was like beating her head against a stone.

她隐隐约约地意识到，自己正走向崩溃的边缘。她模模糊糊地感觉到，自己身处与世隔绝的真空状态，与充满生机的物质世界完全脱离。只有克利福德和他的小说，那些虚构的、空洞无物的东西！除了虚空，还是虚空。她隐约地觉察到事情的真相。但又感觉自己脑袋往石头上撞。

Her father warned her again: "Why don't you get yourself a beau, Connie? Do you all the good in the world.” That winter Michaelis came for a few days. He was a young Irishman who had already made a large fortune by his plays in America. He had been taken up quite enthusiastically for a time by smart society in London, for he wrote smart society plays. Then gradually smart society realized that it had been made ridiculous at the hands of a down-at-heel Dublin street-rat, and revulsion came. Michaelis was the last word in what was caddish and bounderish. He was discovered to be anti-English, and to the class that made this discovery this was worse than the dirtiest crime. He was cut dead, and his corpse thrown into the refuse can.

父亲再次提醒她：“你为什么不给自己找个情人，康妮？这样做对你而言大有好处。”那天冬天，米凯利斯来拉格比小住过几天。这个爱尔兰青年是位剧作家，编写的剧本在美国公演，让他赚得盆满钵满。曾几何时，因为写了几部时兴的社会剧，他一度成为伦敦时髦社交圈的风云人物。可当社交名流们慢慢发觉，自己竟然被这个不入流的都柏林小混混所嘲弄，对他的态度也来了个一百八十度大转弯。米凯利斯也成为下流粗鄙的代名词。有人揭发他有反英情绪，而对于捅出此事的贵族阶层而言，这简直比最恶劣的犯罪还难以宽宥。他遭到伦敦上流社会最无情的唾弃。

Nevertheless Michaelis had his apartment in Mayfair, and walked down Bond Street the image of a gentleman, for you cannot get even the best tailors to cut their low-down customers, when the customers pay.

尽管臭名昭著，米凯利斯仍在梅费尔区（注：伦敦西部的高级住宅区）拥有自己的公寓，当他在邦德街徜徉，绅士派头依然不减。因为只要付钱，即使身份卑微，也能让最棒的裁缝乖乖为你服务。

Clifford was inviting the young man of thirty at an inauspicious moment in this young man's career. Yet Clifford did not hesitate. Michaelis had the ear of a few million people, probably; and, being a hopeless outsider, he would no doubt be grateful to be asked down to Wragby at this juncture, when the rest of the smart world was cutting him. Being grateful, he would no doubt do Clifford 'good' over there in America. Kudos! A man gets a lot of kudos, whatever that may be, by being talked about in the right way, especially "over there". Clifford was a coming man; and it was remarkable what a sound publicity instinct he had.

克利福德却向这个已过而立、正处事业低谷的年轻人发出邀请。然而对此，克利福德没有半点犹豫。米凯利斯差不多拥有数百万忠实听众，作为人人避之不及的过街老鼠，在遭到社交界遗弃的无助时刻，受邀来到拉格比，他无疑会感激涕零。因为心存感激，他自然会“帮助”克利福德在美利坚扬名。名声大噪！只要以正确的方式予以吹捧，你就会声名鹊起，无论是什么名声，尤其是在遥远的大洋彼岸。克利福德将是文坛冉冉升起的明日之星，拥有如此强烈的自我推销意识，更是非同凡响。

In the end Michaelis did him most nobly in a play, and Clifford was a sort of popular hero. Till the reaction, when he found he had been made ridiculous.

后来，米凯利斯果真在自己的剧作中将克利福德塑造成为极为崇高的形象，受人追捧的英雄人物。直到听闻到评论界的反应，克利福德才发觉自己充当的不过是被嘲弄的对象。

Connie wondered a little over Clifford's blind, imperious instinct to become known: known, that is, to the vast amorphous world he did not himself know, and of which he was uneasily afraid; known as a writer, as a first-class modern writer. Connie was aware from successful, old, hearty, bluffing Sir Malcolm, that artists did advertise themselves, and exert themselves to put their goods over. But her father used channels ready-made, used by all the other R.A.s who sold their pictures. Whereas Clifford discovered new channels of publicity, all kinds. He had all kinds of people at Wragby, without exactly lowering himself. But, determined to build himself a monument of a reputation quickly, he used any handy rubble in the making.

对于丈夫这种盲目迫切的成名欲求，康妮颇感诧异。克利福德希望成为闻名遐迩的作家，第一流的文坛尖兵。让整个世界都知道他的名字，这个让他捉摸不透的广阔世界，这个他知之甚少、甚至心怀畏惧的无常世界。父亲马尔科姆爵士本就卓有名望，老谋深算，满怀激情，且善于造势，从他身上康妮意识到，艺术家确实需要懂得经营自己，竭尽所能地把自己的作品推销出去。但父亲用的还是老一套，其他皇家艺术学会的成员兜售画作时惯用的手段。而克利福德却发掘出五花八门的新颖造势渠道。他把三教九流的各色人等请到拉格比，还无需自降身份。但决意尽快在文坛闯出赫赫声名，他还是无所不用其极。

Michaelis arrived duly, in a very neat car, with a chauffeur and a manservant. He was absolutely Bond Street! But at right of him something in Clifford's county soul recoiled. He wasn't exactly…not exactly…in fact, he wasn't at all, well, what his appearance intended to imply. To Clifford this was final and enough. Yet he was very polite to the man; to the amazing success in him. The bitch-goddess, as she is called, of Success, roamed, snarling and protective, round the half-humble, half-defiant Michaelis' heels, and intimidated Clifford completely: for he wanted to prostitute himself to the bitch-goddess, Success also, if only she would have him. Michaelis obviously wasn't an Englishman, in spite of all the tailors, hatters, barbers, booters of the very best quarter of London. No, no, he obviously wasn't an Englishman: the wrong sort of flattish, pale face and bearing; and the wrong sort of grievance. He had a grudge and a grievance: that was obvious to any true-born English gentleman, who would scorn to let such a thing appear blatant in his own demeanour. Poor Michaelis had been much kicked, so that he had a slightly tail-between-the-legs look even now. He had pushed his way by sheer instinct and sheerer effrontery on to the stage and to the front of it, with his plays. He had caught the public. And he had thought the kicking days were over. Alas, they weren't… They never would be. For he, in a sense, asked to be kicked. He pined to be where he didn't belong...among the English upper classes. And how they enjoyed the various kicks they got at him! And how he hated them! Nevertheless he travelled with his manservant and his very neat car, this Dublin mongrel.

米凯利斯如约而至，座驾奢侈豪华，私人司机和贴身男仆左右相陪。身上穿的是如假包换的邦德街行头！刚打照面，克利福德那颗乡下人的胆怯心灵便畏缩不前了。他并不真是……不真是……事实上，他龌龊的内心根本与光鲜的外表不搭调。对克利福德而言，这点是确定无疑的。不过，他还是对米凯利斯毕恭毕敬，对他取得的非凡成就崇拜不已。米凯利斯既谦卑又趾高气昂，而“成功”——人们常称之为“母狗女神”的——徘徊在他的脚边，肆意咆哮着，担当着保镖的角色。这阵仗彻底把克利福德吓住了，他又何尝不想主动献身给成功女神，只要她愿意跟他春风一度。就算伦敦最上流街区的裁缝、帽商、理发师以及鞋匠们都调动起来，也没法把米凯利斯打扮得像个英国人。不，不，他显然不像是英国人，无论是苍白扁平的脸孔，举手投足间的风度，还是愤世嫉俗的性格，都与英伦风范不合。他总是恨意满腔，牢骚满腹，这根本逃不过地道英国绅士的眼睛，他们从不屑让这种情绪在自己的举止间流露出来。可怜的米凯利斯之前饱受摧残，以至于现在都没有摆脱夹着尾巴做人的丧气相。凭借单纯的直觉以及更加彻底的厚颜无耻，依靠自己的作品，他在戏剧舞台占据一席之地，甚至成为个中翘楚。他赢得观众的青睐。本以为备受蹂躏的日子总算过去。没料想，事实并非如此...它们永远也不会终结。或者可以说，米凯利斯是个自讨苦吃的家伙。他奢求涉足自己不可企及的领域...跻身英国上流社会。而他们想方设法地践踏他，并乐在其中。而他对他们也只有切齿的痛恨。而这个都柏林狗杂种依然带着跟班，乘着名车，招摇过市。

There was something about him that Connie liked. He didn't put on airs to himself, he had no illusions about himself. He talked to Clifford sensibly, briefly, practically, about all the things Clifford wanted to know. He didn't expand or let himself go. He knew he had been asked down to Wragby to be made use of, and like an old, shrewd, almost indifferent business man, or big-business man, he let himself be asked questions, and he answered with as little waste of feeling as possible.

米凯利斯有些优点深得康妮青睐。他从不装腔作势，懂得脚踏实地。一旦攀谈起来，他总能做到条理清晰，简明扼要，实事求是，将克利福德想要了解的一切和盘托出。他从不夸大事实，从不得意忘形。他深知克利福德请自己到拉格比来，只是为了加以利用，而他像位经验老道、从容不迫的商人，甚至可以说是位巨贾，任你如何发问，他都能尽可能自若地回答。

"Money!" he said. "Money is a sort of instinct. It's a sort of property of nature in a man to make money. It's nothing you do. It's no trick you play. It's a sort of permanent accident of your own nature; once you start, you make money, and you go on; up to a point, I suppose.” "But you've got to begin," said Clifford.

“金钱！”他感慨道。“金钱是种本能。挣钱是人类与生俱来的天性。无论你怎么做。无论你耍什么花招。在我看来，这是人类天性中不可变更的运数；一旦掌握要领，钱就会滚滚而来，一发不可收拾，直至富埒陶白。“但总得掌握入门的诀窍。”克利福德说。

"Oh, quite! You've got to get in. You can do nothing if you are kept outside. You've got to beat your way in. Once you've done that, you can't help it.” "But could you have made money except by plays?" asked Clifford.

“没错，的确如此！入门确实至关重要。置身其中才能施展拳脚。必须想方设法找到挣钱的门路。一旦深谙此道，就会欲罢不能。”“除了写剧本，你还有其他挣钱的门道么？”克利福德问。

"Oh, probably not! I may be a good writer or I may be a bad one, but a writer and a writer of plays is what I am, and I've got to be. There's no question of that.” "And you think it's a writer of popular plays that you've got to be?" asked Connie. "There, exactly!" he said, turning to her in a sudden flash. "There's nothing in it! There's nothing in popularity. There's nothing in the public, if it comes to that. There's nothing really in my plays to make them popular. It's not that. They just are like the weather...the sort that will have to be...for the time being.” He turned his slow, rather full eyes, that had been drowned in such fathomless disillusion, on Connie, and she trembled a little. He seemed so old...endlessly old, built up of layers of disillusion, going down in him generation after generation, like geological strata; and at the same time he was forlorn like a child. An outcast, in a certain sense; but with the desperate bravery of his rat-like existence.

“哦，或许没有吧！拥有生花妙笔也好，作品不堪卒读也罢，都无法改变我身为剧作家的事实，而且这也是我唯一的出路。这一点毋庸置疑。”“那你觉得自己注定会成为尽人皆知的剧作家么？”康妮问道。“没错，千真万确！”他答道，霍地把脸扭向康妮。“其实也算不得什么！家喻户晓也没有什么了不起。说白了，广大观众也就是那么回事。其实我的剧本并无出众之处。受欢迎的关键不在于此。一切就好似天气……不过是水到渠成的事情……至少目前看来是这样。”他那对迟钝的大眼睛凝视着康妮，眼神中饱含着无穷无尽的幻灭，四目相对，康妮不禁微微战栗了一下。他看上去如此苍老……久历岁月的沧桑，经年累月的幻灭层叠起来，在他身上沉积汇聚，如同地层的形成过程；但与此同时，他又像个孤立无助的孩子。某种意义上，一个被抛弃者，却有着老鼠般抗争的勇敢气概。

"At least it's wonderful what you've done at your time of life," said Clifford contemplatively.

“至少你年纪轻轻就有如此成就，仅这一点就令人叹服。”克利福德若有所思地说。

"I'm thirty...yes, I'm thirty!" said Michaelis, sharply and suddenly, with a curious laugh, hollow, triumphant, and bitter.

“我30岁了……的确，我已过而立之年！”米凯利斯的声调突然拔高，嘴角流露出诡异的笑容，虚伪空洞，志得意满，却又渗透着丝丝苦涩。

"And are you alone?" asked Connie.

“你独身一人？”康妮问。

"How do you mean?

“你的意思是？

Do I live alone? I've got my servant. He's a Greek, so he says, and quite incompetent. But I keep him. And I'm going to marry. Oh, yes, I must marry.” "It sounds like going to have your tonsils cut," laughed Connie. "Will it be an effort?" He looked at her admiringly. "Well, Lady Chatterley, somehow it will! I find…excuse me…I find I can't marry an Englishwoman, not even an Irishwoman...” "Try an American," said Clifford.

我独自过活？我有个仆人。他自称来自希腊，什么都做不好。但我还是没有解雇他。我已经有结婚的打算。嗯，没错，我必须结婚。”“听你的口气，就像要去割扁桃体，”康妮调侃道，“成家真的就那么艰难？”他望着康妮，倾慕之情溢于言表。“怎么说呢，查泰莱夫人，确实有些困难。我发觉……请恕我冒昧……我发觉自己没办法娶位英国妻子，甚至连爱尔兰姑娘也不太合适……”“试试美国妞。”克利福德提议道。

"Oh, American!" He laughed a hollow laugh.

“噢，美国妞！”米凯利斯挤出干巴巴的笑容。

"No, I've asked my man if he will find me a Turk or something...something nearer to the Oriental.” Connie really wondered at this queer, melancholy specimen of extraordinary success; it was said he had an income of fifty thousand dollars from America alone. Sometimes he was handsome: sometimes as he looked sideways, downwards, and the light fell on him, he had the silent, enduring beauty of a carved ivory Negro mask, with his rather full eyes, and the strong queerly-arched brows, the immobile, compressed mouth; that momentary but revealed immobility, an immobility, a timelessness which the Buddha aims at, and which Negroes express sometimes without ever aiming at it; something old, old, and acquiescent in the race! Aeons of acquiescence in race destiny, instead of our individual resistance. And then a swimming through, like rats in a dark river. Connie felt a sudden, strange leap of sympathy for him, a leap mingled with compassion, and tinged with repulsion, amounting almost to love. The outsider! The outsider! And they called him a bounder! How much more bounderish and assertive Clifford looked! How much stupider!

“不，我已跟仆人打过招呼，让他从土耳其……或者更靠近东方的国度，帮我寻觅一位佳偶。”康妮惊奇于这个取得非凡成就，却古怪忧郁的家伙。坊间传闻，仅在美国他就有5万英镑入账。有时康妮觉得他如此地英挺俊朗：当他侧过脸，或者垂下头，在光线的映照下，他的面孔呈现出宁静而持久的美感，像是戴着一副象牙精雕成的黑人面具。双眸炯炯有神，浓眉斜插入鬓，静止不动的嘴唇紧紧抿着；那短暂的瞬间，却揭示出佛陀所希冀的永恒，而黑人们常在不经意间流露出那种神情，是古老民族经年累月积淀而成的、默认的某种东西。那是黑人千百年来对自身种族命运的默认，与我们白人所倡导的个人反抗迥然不同。突然某种微妙的情感悄然流入康妮的意识之中，如同黑暗河道中潜游的老鼠。莫名的怜悯之意在康妮心中陡然升腾，混合着同情，掺杂着厌恶，汇聚成接近于男女之爱的奇异情感。被社会遗弃的倒霉蛋！被社会唾弃的可怜虫！还要背负下流胚的恶名！若论下流无耻，独断专行，克利福德与他相比，更是有过之而无不及。而且更加无知愚钝！

Michaelis knew at once he had made an impression on her. He turned his full, hazel, slightly prominent eyes on her in a look of pure detachment. He was estimating her, and the extent of the impression he had made. With the English nothing could save him from being the eternal outsider, not even love. Yet women sometimes fell for him...Englishwomen too.

米凯利斯很快就察觉到康妮对他的好感。他那双淡褐色、稍显凸出的大眼睛，始终以康妮为视线的焦点，但同时又摆出一副毫不在意的超然表情。他在揣摩着她的想法，猜测着自己在这位可人儿心中究竟占据何种位置。只要和英国佬共处，他就永难摆脱被边缘化的境地，就算是在爱情的领域也不例外。但女人们却时常为他而倾倒……就连英国女人也难以抗拒他的魅力。

He knew just where he was with Clifford. They were two alien dogs which would have liked to snarl at one another, but which smiled instead, perforce. But with the woman he was not quite so sure.

他深知自己与克利福德之间的关系。他们就是两个水火不容的卑鄙小人，本应彼此谩骂叫嚣，却因相互利用的需要，不得不携手言欢。但与这个女人的关系，他却有些拿不准。

Breakfast was served in the bedrooms; Clifford never appeared before lunch, and the dining-room was a little dreary. After coffee Michaelis, restless and ill-sitting soul, wondered what he should do. It was a fine November...day fine for Wragby. He looked over the melancholy park. My God! What a place!

众人在各自卧室用过早餐。午餐前从不见克利福德的踪影，饭厅显得有些冷清。用罢咖啡，米凯利斯感觉心神不宁，如坐针毡，心里盘算着自己该做点什么。这是十一月一个天气晴好的日子，至少对拉格比而言是如此。他起身俯瞰屋外那片阴郁的园林。天呢！这到底是个什么鬼地方！

He sent a servant to ask, could he be of any service to Lady Chatterley: he thought of driving into Sheffield. The answer came, would he care to go up to Lady Chatterley's sitting-room.

他差仆人前去询问，是否能够为查泰莱夫人效犬马之劳，他打算乘车去谢菲尔德逛逛。得到的答复是，请他到夫人的起居室一叙。

Connie had a sitting-room on the third floor, the top floor of the central portion of the house. Clifford's rooms were on the ground floor, of course. Michaelis was flattered by being asked up to Lady Chatterley's own parlour. He followed blindly after the servant...he never noticed things, or had contact with Isis surroundings. In her room he did glance vaguely round at the fine German reproductions of Renoir and Cézanne.

康妮的起居室位于三楼，也就是拉格比府中央部分的顶层。由于克利福德行动不便，他的房间自然都在底层。受邀去查泰莱夫人的私人会客室，米凯利斯有点受宠若惊。他茫然地跟在仆人身后，对沿路的陈设毫不在意，也没有留心观察周遭颇具伊西斯风格的装饰。而步入她的房间后，他却模模糊糊地瞥见雷诺阿（注：1841-1912，法国画家、雕塑家，印象派的代表人物）和塞尚（注：1839-1906，法国画家，后期印象派的主将。）精美的德国复制品。

"It's very pleasant up here," he said, with his queer smile, as if it hurt him to smile, showing his teeth. "You are wise to get up to the top." "Yes, I think so," she said.

“楼上的房间果然令人心旷神怡，”他说，脸上显出露齿的怪异笑容，好像这样的微笑会使他感到痛苦，“住在顶楼是个明智的选择。”“没错，我也有同感。”她说。

Her room was the only gay, modern one in the house, the only spot in Wragby where her personality was at all revealed. Clifford had never seen it, and she asked very few people up.

她的房间是整座府邸唯一色彩鲜活、具有现代气息的地方，也是整个拉格比唯一能够彰显她全部个性的所在。克利福德从没到过这个房间，她也很少请人上来做客。

Now she and Michaelis sit on opposite sides of the fire and talked. She asked him about himself, his mother and father, his brothers...other people were always something of a wonder to her, and when her sympathy was awakened she was quite devoid of class feeling. Michaelis talked frankly about himself, quite frankly, without affectation, simply revealing his bitter, indifferent, stray-dog's soul, then showing a gleam of revengeful pride in his success.

此刻，她和米凯利斯在壁炉两侧落座，畅谈起来。她问及他自己、他的父母兄弟……康妮对别人的事总有几分好奇，而当心底的同情被唤醒，等级意识便荡然无存。米凯利斯开诚布公地讲起自己，没有丝毫隐瞒，不做半点矫饰，将自己满怀怨恨、麻木不仁、如同丧家犬般的灵魂，彻彻底底地展现在康妮面前，而在讲述自己的成功经历时，则掺杂着复仇的快感以及骄傲的情绪。

"But why are you such a lonely bird?" Connie asked him; and again he looked at her, with his full, searching, hazel look.

“但你为何孤独地好似离群之鸟？”康妮问道。而米凯利斯则又瞪着那双淡褐色的大眼睛，注视着她，目光中含有探寻的意味。

"Some birds ARE that way," he replied. Then, with a touch of familiar irony: "but, look here, what about yourself? Aren't you by way of being a lonely bird yourself?” Connie, a little startled, thought about it for a few moments, and then she said: "Only in a way! Not altogether, like you!" "Am I altogether a lonely bird?" he asked, with his queer grin of a smile, as if he had toothache; it was so wry, and his eyes were so perfectly unchangingly melancholy, or stoical, or disillusioned or afraid.

“有些人本就是如此，”他答道，接着又换上康妮熟悉的嘲讽腔调，“但也不要忘记眼前之人，你自己呢？你又何尝不是某种离群的孤雁？”康妮心中一惊，沉吟片刻后说：“倒也有些道理。但并非像你那样，完全与孤独为伴。”“我拥有的就只是寂寞？”他反问道，咧嘴露出古怪的笑容，脸庞扭曲得好像饱受牙痛的折磨，眼神仍是一成不变的忧郁，或是坚忍，或是幻灭，又或是恐惧。

"Why?" she said, a little breathless, as she looked at him. "You are, aren't you?” She felt a terrible appeal coming to her from him, that made her almost lose her balance.

“为何这么说？”她问，与他目光相接时，不禁有些呼吸急促。“难道你并非如此么？”康妮感到自己被他那股强烈的吸引力慑住，有些心旌旗摇。

"Oh, you're quite right!" he said, turning his head away, and looking sideways, downwards, with that strange immobility of an old race that is hardly here in our present day. It was that that really made Connie lose her power to see him detached from herself.

“嗯，你说得太对了！”他说，扭头把脸侧向一边，目光低垂，呈现出那种古老民族独有、现今罕见的静止状态。眼见对方如此冷淡地对待自己，康妮感到非常气馁。

He looked up at her with the full glance that saw everything, registered everything. At the same time, the infant crying in the night was crying out of his breast to her, in a way that affected her very womb.

他抬起头，饱含深情地凝望着她，将眼前的女子完完全全地收入眼底，也把自己心中的情意彻彻底底地传递出来。与此同时，他的胸腔中发出如同婴儿夜啼的声响，不知为何，这哭声让她的子宫都为之震颤。

"It's awfully nice of you to think of me," he said laconically.

“你能如此为我着想，真是太令人感动了。”他毫不掩饰心中的情感。

"Why shouldn't I think of you?" she exclaimed, with hardly breath to utter it.

“我为何不该为你着想呢？”她惊叫道，激动地几乎透不过气。

He gave the wry, quick hiss of a laugh.

他面容扭曲着快速地发出轻笑。

"Oh, in that way!...

“哦，确实应该！……

May I hold your hand for a minute?" he asked suddenly, fixing his eyes on her with almost hypnotic power, and sending out an appeal that affected her direct in the womb.