rious, silent motion, effaced. He had a natural sort of quiet distinction, an aloof pride, and also a certain look of frailty. A hireling! One of Clifford's hirelings! "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." Was he an underling? Was he? What did he think of her?

“我打搅你们了吧，克利福德？真抱歉。”“没有，都是些鸡毛蒜皮的小事。”她轻手轻脚地退出房间，来到一楼那间蓝色的梳妆室。她临窗而坐，目送他沿车道远去，直到他那与众不同的静默身姿消失不见。他那种浑然天成的安详显得卓尔不凡，他沉默超然的态度透露出骄傲，但也掺杂着某种脆弱的神情。奴仆！克利福德的一名奴仆！“亲爱的勃鲁西斯，不要埋怨命运不济，如果我们失身为奴，那也只能责怪自己。”（注：引自莎士比亚剧作《尤利斯·凯撒》）他当真只是名奴仆吗？真的吗？他又怎样看待她呢？

It was a sunny day, and Connie was working in the garden, and Mrs. Bolton was helping her. For some reason, the two women had drawn together, in one of the unaccountable flows and ebbs of sympathy that exist between people. They were pegging down carnations, and putting in small plants for the summer. It was work they both liked. Connie especially felt a delight in putting the soft roots of young plants into a soft black puddle, and cradling them down. On this spring morning she felt a quiver in her womb too, as if the sunshine had touched it and made it happy.

某日，阳光和煦，康妮正在花园中忙碌，博尔顿太太担当助手。不知为何，两个女人被牵扯在一起，人与人之间存在着同情的浪潮，玄妙得难以说清。她俩把康乃馨系在杆上，栽种花草的嫩苗，以期夏日的绽放。两人都偏好此类活计。康妮特别喜欢把幼苗柔软的根系插进松软的黑土里，然后埋好。在这个春意盎然的早晨，她感觉自己的子宫都在震颤，好像受到阳光的抚摸，让它快活起来。

"It is many years since you lost your husband?" She said to Mrs. Bolton as she took up another little plant and laid it in its hole.

“你丈夫去世很多年了吧？”她边对博尔顿太太说，边拾起一根嫩苗，埋进掘好的土坑里。

"Twenty-three!” Said Mrs. Bolton, as she carefully separated the young columbines into single plants. "Twenty-three years since they brought him home.” Connie's heart gave a lurch, at the terrible finality of it. "Brought him home!"

“23年了！”博尔顿太太答道，小心翼翼地将娇嫩的耧斗菜一根根分开。“从他们把他送回家那刻算起，已经23年了。”听到这悲惨的结局，康妮心中不觉凄然。“送他回家！”

"Why did he get killed, do you think?" she asked.

“你觉得他究竟因何遇难？”她问。

"He was happy with you?" It was a woman's question to a woman. Mrs. Bolton put aside a strand of hair from her face, with the back of her hand.

“