and faintly golden like a Gloire de Dijon rose on the bed, and was gone. She heard him downstairs opening the door.

过了一会儿，他取过衬衣穿好，利落地穿好外衣裤，默默看了她一眼，离开卧房。而她的那副玉体横陈于床榻，身无片缕，幽幽闪着金光，美艳地如同第戎（注：法国东部城市）的黄玫瑰。她听到他敞开房门，走下楼去。

And still she lay musing, musing. It was very hard to go: to go out of his arms. He called from the foot of the stairs: "Half past seven!" She sighed, and got out of bed. The bare little room! Nothing in it at all but the small chest of drawers and the smallish bed. But the board floor was scrubbed clean. And in the corner by the window gable was a shelf with some books, and some from a circulating library. She looked. There were books about Bolshevist Russia, books of travel, a volume about the atom and the electron, another about the composition of the earth's core, and the causes of earthquakes: then a few novels: then three books on India. So! He was a reader after all.

而她躺在那儿，冥思苦想。要离开这里，暂别他怀抱，确实困难之极。他在楼梯下喊道：“七点半了！”她叹口气，不情愿地下了床。空荡荡的小房间！衣柜和床都挺小，此外空无一物。但地板却擦得整洁光亮。带窗的山墙边角落里摆着个书架，其中有些书借自移动图书馆。她走近细瞧。几本写到苏俄，几本是游记，一本讲的是原子和电子的关系，一本则研究地核的构造以及地震的成因，此外，还有几部小说，三本关于印度的书籍。如此说来，他自称爱读书并非虚言。

The sun fell on her naked limbs through the gable window. Outside she saw the dog Flossie roaming round. The hazel-brake was misted with green, and dark-green dogs-mercury under. It was a clear clean morning with birds flying and triumphantly singing. If only she could stay! If only there weren't the other ghastly world of smoke and iron! If only HE would make her a world.

阳光透过山墙窗户，洒在她裸露的四肢上。她凭窗而望，看到猎犬弗洛西正在屋外游荡。绿油油的榛丛下面，藏着墨绿色的水银菜。真是个天气晴好的早晨，鸟儿展翅翱翔，兴高采烈地欢唱。要是她能长留此地，该有多好！要是外面那烟尘滚滚、钢筋铁骨的苍白的世界不存在，该有多好！要是他能为她创造另一片乐土，该多美妙。

She came downstairs, down the steep, narrow wooden stairs. Still she would be content with this little house, if only it were in a world of its own.

她顺着台阶而下，木质的楼梯陡峭又狭窄。要是这所小屋真能与世隔绝，那她也会心满意足。

He was washed and fresh, and the fire was burning. "Will you eat anything?" He said.

他刚刚梳洗过，显得精神饱满，炉火烧得正旺。“要吃点什么吗？”他问。

"No! Only lend me a comb." She followed him into the