Ma lass!" he said.

“亲爱的！”他说。

"The world's goin' to put salt on thy tail.” "Not if we don't let it," she said.

“你只能眼睁睁地跳入世人设的圈套。”“不会的，只要我们不妥协。”她说。

She minded this conniving against the world less than he did.

说到与世界针锋相对的反抗情绪，她远没有他那般强烈。

Duncan, when approached, also insisted on seeing the delinquent game-keeper, so there was a dinner, this time in his flat: the four of them. Duncan was a rather short, broad, dark-skinned, taciturn Hamlet of a fellow with straight black hair and a weird Celtic conceit of himself. His art was all tubes and valves and spirals and strange colours, ultra-modern, yet with a certain power, even a certain purity of form and tone: only Mellors thought it cruel and repellent. He did not venture to say so, for Duncan was almost insane on the point of his art: it was a personal cult, a personal religion with him.

姐妹俩前去试探邓肯的口风，可那位画家却坚持要见见守林人，毕竟是他未能负起情人的责任。四人约定共进晚餐，地点是邓肯的公寓。邓肯又矮又壮，肤色偏暗，哈姆雷特般地沉默寡言，一头乌黑的直发，拥有典型的凯尔特人性格，自负到极点。他的画作描绘的全是管子，阀门以及螺旋状物，色彩的搭配也特立独行，具有极端的现实主义风格，但也不乏某种感染力，甚至是形式与色调的单纯搭配。不过，梅勒斯却认为这些画作冷酷无情，令人反感。他却不能贸然说出自己的看法，因为邓肯对自己的艺术观几近痴狂，简直像是种个人崇拜和信仰。

They were looking at the pictures in the studio, and Duncan kept his smallish brown eyes on the other man. He wanted to hear what the game-keeper would say. He knew already Connie's and Hilda's opinions.

一行人在工作室里欣赏画作，邓肯始终眯着棕色的小眼睛，打量着梅勒斯。他想听听梅勒斯的看法。对于希尔达姐妹的意见，他早就一清二楚。

"It is like a pure bit of murder," said Mellors at last; a speech Duncan by no means expected from a game-keeper.

“感觉有点像赤裸裸的谋杀。”梅勒斯终于给出自己的评价，而邓肯绝没想到区区一个守林人能够说出这番言论。

"And who is murdered?" asked Hilda, rather coldly and sneeringly.

“那被谋杀的是谁呀？”希尔达问，冷漠的口吻中带着揶揄。

"Me! It murders all the bowels of compassion in a man." A wave of pure hate came out of the artist. He heard the note of dislike in the other man's voice, and the note of contempt. And he himself loathed the mention of bowels of compassion. Sickly sentiment!

“我！人的怜悯之心完全被践踏。”画家听到梅勒斯的话，气不打一处来。他听出梅勒斯口气中的厌恶与鄙视。而他更反感别人提及怜悯之心这种话题。病态的情感！

Mellors stood rather tall an