absorption in Clifford and his work. Their interests had never ceased to flow together over his work. They talked and wrestled in the throes of composition, and felt as if something were happening, really happening, really in the void.

转眼间，康妮和克利福德已在拉格比府住了将近两年，过着混沌不清的日子，全部精力都集中在克利福德和他的作品上。创作的过程中，两人的兴趣不断高涨、彼此交融。他们相互交换意见，反复推敲，仔细斟酌，深尝创作的艰辛，感觉到那些虚无的故事里，果然发生着什么，的确发生着什么。

And thus far it was a life: in the void. For the rest it was non-existence. Wragby was there, the servants...but spectral, not really existing. Connie went for walks in the park, and in the woods that joined the park, and enjoyed the solitude and the mystery, kicking the brown leaves of autumn, and picking the primroses of spring. But it was all a dream; or rather it was like the simulacrum of reality. The oak-leaves were to her like oak-leaves seen ruffling in a mirror, she herself was a figure somebody had read about, picking primroses that were only shadows or memories, or words. No substance to her or anything...no touch,