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When we left I walked away with Miss Waterford, and the fine day and her new hat persuaded us to saunter through the Park.
离开思特里克兰德太太家的时候，我是同瓦特尔芙德小姐一同走的。因为天气很好，又加上她这顶新帽子提了兴致，我们决定散一会步，从圣杰姆斯公园穿出去。
"That was a very nice party," I said.
“刚才的聚会很不错。”我说。
"Did you think the food was good? I told her that if she wanted writers she must feed them well."
“你觉得菜做得不坏，是不是？我告诉过她，如果她想同作家来往，就得请他们吃好的。”
"Admirable advice," I answered. "But why does she want them?"
“你给她出的主意太妙了，”我回答。“可是她为什么要同作家来往呢？”
Miss Waterford shrugged her shoulders.
瓦特尔芙德小姐耸了耸肩膀。
"She finds them amusing. She wants to be in the movement. I fancy she's rather simple, poor dear, and she thinks we're all wonderful. After all, it pleases her to ask us to luncheon, and it doesn't hurt us. I like her for it."
“她觉得作家有意思。她想迎合潮流。我看她头脑有些简单，可怜的人，她认为我们这些作家都是了不起的人。不管怎么说，她喜欢请我们吃饭，我们对吃饭也没有反感。我喜欢她就是喜欢这一点。”
Looking back, I think that Mrs. Strickland was the most harmless of all the lion-hunters that pursue their quarry from the rarefied heights of Hampstead to the nethermost studios of Cheyne Walk. She had led a very quiet youth in the country, and the books that came down from Mudie's Library brought with them not only their own romance, but the romance of London. She had a real passion for reading (rare in her kind, who for the most part are more interested in the author than in his book, in the painter than in his pictures), and she invented a world of the imagination in which she lived with a freedom she never acquired in the world of every day. When she came to know writers it was like adventuring upon a stage which till then she had known only from the other side of the footlights. She saw them dramatically, and really seemed herself to live a larger life because she entertained them and visited them in their fastnesses. She accepted the rules with which they played the game of life as valid for them, but never for a moment thought of regulating her own conduct in accordance with them. Their moral eccentricities, like their oddities of dress, their wild theories and paradoxes, were an entertainment which amused her, but had not the slightest influence on her convictions.
现在回想起来，在那些惯爱结交文人名士的人中，思特里克兰德太太要算心地最单纯的了，这些人为了把猎物捕捉到手，从汉普斯台德的远离尘嚣的象牙塔一直搜寻到柴纳街的寒酸破旧的画室。思特里克兰德太太年轻的时候住在寂静的乡间，从穆迪图书馆借来的书籍不只使她阅读到不少浪漫故事，而且也给她的脑子里装上了伦敦这个大城市的罗曼史。她从心眼里喜欢看书（这在她们这类人中是少见的，这些人大多数对作家比对作家写的书、对画家比对画家画的画兴趣更大），她为自己创造了一个幻想的小天地，生活于其中，感到日常生活所无从享受到的自由。当她同作家结识以后，她有一种感觉，仿佛过去只能隔着脚灯了望的舞台，这回却亲身登上去了。她看着这些人粉墨登场，好象自己的生活也扩大了，因为她不仅设宴招待他们，而且居然闯进这些人的重门深锁的幽居里去。对于这些人游戏人生的信条她认为无可厚非，但是她自己却一分钟也不想按照他们的方式调整自己的生活。这些人道德伦理上的奇行怪癖，正如他们奇特的衣着、荒唐背理的言论一样，使她觉得非常有趣，但是对她自己立身处世的原则却丝毫也没有影响。
"Is there a Mr. Strickland?" I asked
“有没有一位思特里克兰德先生啊？”我问。
"Oh yes; he's something in the city. I believe he's a stockbroker. He's very dull."
“怎么没有啊。他在伦敦做事。我想是个证券经纪人吧。没有什么风趣。”
"Are they good friends?"
“他们俩感情好吗？”
"They adore one another. You'll meet him if you dine there. But she doesn't often have people to dinner. He's very quiet. He's not in the least interested in literature or the arts."
“两个人互敬互爱。如果你在他们家吃晚饭，你会见到他的。但是她很少请人吃晚饭。他不太爱说话，对文学艺术一点儿也不感兴趣。”
"Why do nice women marry dull men?"
“为什么讨人喜欢的女人总是嫁给蠢物啊？”
"Because intelligent men won't marry nice women."
“因为有脑子的男人是不娶讨人喜欢的女人的。”
I could not think of any retort to this, so I asked if Mrs. Strickland had children.
我想不出什么反驳的话来，于是我就把话头转开，打听思特里克兰德太太有没有孩子。
"Yes; she has a boy and a girl. They're both at school."
“有，一个男孩和一个女孩。两个人都在上学。”
The subject was exhausted, and we began to talk of other things.
这个题目已经没有好说的了。我们又扯起别的事来。
