ther women?" He looked at her amused.

“你和其他女人一起到过吗？”他望着她，心里觉得有些好笑。

"I don't know," he said, "I don't know.” And she knew he would never tell her anything he didn't want to tell her. She watched his face, and the passion for him moved in her bowels. She resisted it as far as she could, for it was the loss of herself to herself.

“我不记得了，”他说，“都忘记了。”她清楚，那些他不愿让她知晓的事情，他不会透露半字。她盯着他的脸庞，热烈的爱意在心底翻涌。她竭力抑制着这种情绪，因为那样会让她迷失自我。

He put on his waistcoat and his coat, and pushed a way through to the path again.

他穿上马甲和外衣，挤过树丛，重新踏上通往拉格比的小路。

The last level rays of the sun touched the wood. "I won't come with you," he said; "better not." She looked at him wistfully before she turned. His dog was waiting so anxiously for him to go, and he seemed to have nothing whatever to say. Nothing left.

夕阳洒落最后几缕余光，给树林着上金色。“我不送你了，”他说，“还是不送为好。”她依依不舍地望着他，最终转身离去。猎犬正焦急地等着主人启程返家，他似乎已经说完所有该说的话。没有半句遗漏。

Connie went slowly home, realizing the depth of the other thing in her. Another self was alive in her, burning molten and soft in her womb and bowels, and with this self she adored him. She adored him till her knees were weak as she walked. In her womb and bowels she was flowing and alive now and vulnerable, and helpless in adoration of him as the most naive woman. It feels like a child, she said to herself it feels like a child in me. And so it did, as if her womb, that had always been shut, had opened and filled with new life, almost a burden, yet lovely.

康妮脚步徐缓，踏上回家的路，意识到内心深处潜伏着另一个自我。这个自我如今活跃异常，它灼热地燃烧着，让子宫及脏腑中的一切尽数熔化变软，对他顶礼膜拜。这样的爱慕让她走路时都感觉两膝发软。这个自我正在她的子宫和脏腑里起伏跳跃，有几位脆弱，如同天真烂漫的少女，不可救药地思慕着他。它就像个活生生的婴孩，她默默自语，它就像在我体内成长着的婴孩。的确如此，似乎她那封闭已久的子宫已经开启，承载着新的生命，虽然是种负担，但却让人倍感愉悦。

"If I had a child!" she thought to herself; "if I had him inside me as a child!"—and her limbs turned molten at the thought, and she realized the immense difference between having a child to oneself and having a child to a man whom one's bowels yearned towards. The former seemed in a sense ordinary: but to have a child to a man wh