I was clearing my throat.
She was clearing her throat, confirmed a significant part of the audience in a low rumble.
Oh yes, said Arthur, all right. And you then split the proceeds… he paused again for a maths break, fifty-fifty with the alchemist. Make a lot of money!
He looked swayingly around at his audience, and could not help but be aware of an air of scepticism about their jumbled faces.He felt very affronted by this.
How else, he demanded, could I afford to have my face dropped?
Friendly arms began to help him home.Listen, he protested, as the cold February breeze brushed his face, looking lived-in is all the rage in California at the moment. You’ve got to look as if you’ve seen the Galaxy. Life, I mean. You’ve got to look as if you’ve seen life. That’s what I got. A face drop. Give me eight years, I said. I hope being thirty doesn’t come back into fashion or I’ve wasted a lot of money.
He lapsed into silence for a while as the friendly arms continued to help him along the lane to his house.
Got in yesterday, he mumbled. I’m very happy to be home. Or somewhere very like it…
Jet lag, muttered one of his friends. Long trip from California. Really mucks you up for a couple of days.
I don’t think he’s been there at all, muttered another. I wonder where he has been. And what’s happened to him.
After a little sleep Arthur got up and pottered round the house a bit. He felt woozy and a little low, still disoriented by the journey. He wondered how he was going to find Fenny.
He sat and looked at the fish bowl. He tapped it again, and despite being full of water and a small yellow Babel fish which was gulping its way around rather dejectedly, it still chimed its deep and resonant chime as clearly and mesmerically as before.
Someone is trying to thank me, he thought to himself. He wondered who, and for what.
n. 劈开,裂片,裂口
adj. 分散的