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Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
夜深了,汽车停在华盛顿郊外的霍华德约翰逊连锁餐馆,除了温格,其他人都下了车,他仍一丝不动地坐在那里。他引起这班年轻人的猜想:也许他是个船长,也许是从家出走的,或者是一个归家的老兵。当他们又回到车上时,他们中的一个女孩坐到温格的身边,并向他作了自我介绍。
“We're going to Florida,” she said brightly.“ I hear it's really beautiful.”
“我们都是去佛罗里达的,”那个女孩轻快地说。“我听说那里很美。”
“It is, ” he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
“是的,”他静静地回答道,他似乎记起了过去曾试图忘却的往事。
“Want some wine?” she said. He smiled and took a swig. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
“来点葡萄酒吧?”那个女孩说。他微笑着喝了一大口,说声谢谢后又回到他的沉默中。后来她回到那班人中,温格则低着头睡着了。 |
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