“感激不尽。”画家回应道。“伏尔甘那身材我可不感兴趣。”“即便将它装扮得像根管子都不行吗？”邓肯没有回答。画家不屑于再跟梅勒斯攀谈。

It was a dismal party, in which the artist henceforth steadily ignored the presence of the other man, and talked only briefly, as if the words were wrung out of the depths of his gloomy portentousness, to the women.

晚餐时的气氛相当沉闷。邓肯始终没有再搭理梅勒斯，只是跟两位女士谈话，而且尽量做到言简意赅，仿佛那些语句是从他忧郁自负的深渊里挤出来的一般。

"You didn't like him, but he's better than that, really. He's really kind," Connie explained as they left.

“你不喜欢他，但实际上他的个性并非如此。他真的是个好人。”从邓肯家出来，康妮向梅勒斯解释着。

"He's a little black pup with a corrugated distemper," said Mellors.

“他像条患上螺纹狂热症的小黑狗。”梅勒斯说。

"No, he wasn't nice today.” "And will you go and be a model to him?" "Oh, I don't really mind any more. He won't touch me. And I don't mind anything, if it paves the way to a life together for you and me.” "But he'll only shit on you on canvas.” "I don't care. He'll only be painting his own feelings for me, and I don't mind if he does that. I wouldn&#