." "But your mother...?" "She lives in her own cottage in the village." "With the child?" asked Connie.

“就我自己，夫人。”“那你母亲呢……？”“她在村里有自己的住处。”“和孩子一起？”她问。

"With the child!" And his plain, rather worn face took on an indefinable look of derision. It was a face that changed all the time, baking.

“跟孩子同住。”他那张饱经风霜的淳朴面孔上，流露出一丝难以琢磨的嘲讽。这张脸上的表情总是变幻莫测，令人困惑。

"No," he said, seeing Connie stand at a loss, "my mother comes and cleans up for me on Saturdays; I do the rest myself." Again Connie looked at him. His eyes were smiling again, a little mockingly, but warm and blue, and somehow kind. She wondered at him. He was in trousers and flannel shirt and a grey tie, his hair soft and damp, his face rather pale and worn-looking. When the eyes ceased to laugh they looked as if they had suffered a great deal, still without losing their warmth. But a pallor of isolation came over him, she was not really there for him.

发觉康妮疑惑不解，他连忙解释说：“我母亲每周六过来，帮我打扫一下，其余时间我自己收拾。”康妮再度望向他。那双眼睛重新泛起笑意，夹杂着些许嘲弄，但却温暖澄蓝，显得颇为友好亲切。他让她惊讶不已。他身着长裤，配法兰绒衬衫、灰色领带，头发柔软湿润，脸色苍白，仿佛饱经沧桑。笑容褪去时，他的双眸看上去像是曾经历尽苦难，但仍未丧失热情。然而，他苍白的面容透露出孤独的气质，她来这儿并非为了他。

She wanted to say so many things, and she said nothing. Only she looked up at him again, and remarked: "I hope I didn't disturb you?” The faint smile of mockery narrowed his eyes.

她有满腹的话语想要倾诉，但却只字未言。她只是再次抬头看着他，说：“希望没有打搅你。”略带嘲讽的微笑让他眯起眼睛。

"Only combing my hair, if you don't mind. I'm sorry I hadn't a coat on, but then I had no idea who was knocking. Nobody knocks here, and the unexpected sounds ominous.” He went in front of her down the garden path to hold the gate. In his shirt, without the clumsy velveteen coat, she saw again how slender he was, thin, stooping a little. Yet, as she passed him, there was something young and bright in his fair hair, and his quick eyes. He would be a man about thirty-seven or eight.

“我刚刚在梳头，请您不要见怪。我还没来得及穿上外套，但我真的不晓得是谁在敲门。从来没人敲过门，乍一听到，敲门声还真让我有些紧张。”他走在前面，将她引领到花园尽头，为她打开门。他只穿着衬衫，没套那件笨重的棉绒外衣，那修长清瘦的身材康妮尽览无疑，而且稍稍有点驼背。然而，从他身边走过时，康妮透过其金黄的发丝、敏锐的双眼，发现洋溢着的