I read a little to you afterwards?" said Clifford.

“过会儿我读书给你听吧？”克利福德问。

She looked at him. Had he sensed something? "The spring makes me feel queer—I thought I might rest a little," she said.

她的视线转向他。难道丈夫已经有所察觉？“春天让我感觉有点乏累——我本想去休息一会的。”她说。

"Just as you like. Not feeling really unwell, are you?" "No! Only rather tired—with the spring. Will you have Mrs. Bolton to play something with you?” "No! I think I'll listen in.” She heard the curious satisfaction in his voice. She went upstairs to her bedroom. There she heard the loudspeaker begin to bellow, in an idiotically velveteen-genteel sort of voice, something about a series of street-cries, the very cream of genteel affectation imitating old criers. She pulled on her old violet coloured mackintosh, and slipped out of the house at the side door.

“想就去吧。你真的感觉身体不适么？”“没事！只是有点困乏——都是春天惹的祸。让博尔顿太太来陪你玩会牌？”“不用！我想听会儿收音机。”她听出他语调中那奇异的满足感。她上楼回到卧室。即使在自己房间，她仍能听到扬声器在叫嚷，那是种白痴似地故作风雅的呓语，像是接连不断的沿街叫卖声，对老套叫卖者刻意模仿和时髦粉饰。她披上那件紫色旧雨衣，从侧门溜了出来。

The drizzle of rain was like a veil over the world, mysterious, hushed, not cold. She got very warm as she hurried across the park. She had to open her light waterproof.

蒙蒙细雨好像给世界罩上轻纱，神秘莫测，安详静谧，却并不冰冷。康妮急匆匆穿过花园，感觉燥热起来。她只得解开单薄的雨衣。

The wood was silent, still and secret in the evening drizzle of rain, full of the mystery of eggs and half-open buds, half unsheathed flowers. In the dimness of it all trees glistened naked and dark as if they had unclothed themselves, and the green things on earth seemed to hum with greenness.

傍晚的细雨中，树林沉默无声，寂静安宁，又充满神秘的卵与半开半合的嫩芽和花朵。朦胧中，赤裸的树木闪烁着幽暗的光芒，好像已将衣衫褪尽，地上的绿色植被似乎正低声吟唱，仍显稚嫩。

There was still no one at the clearing. The chicks had nearly all gone under the mother-hens, only one or two last adventurous ones still dibbed about in the dryness under the straw roof shelter. And they were doubtful of themselves.

林间空地处依然不见人影。小鸡们差不多都已躲到妈妈的身下，只有一两只冒失鬼仍在草棚遮蔽的干燥处啄食。它们有些局促不安。

So! He still had not been. He was staying away on purpose. Or perhaps something was wrong. Perhaps she should go to th