The Great Gatsby — Page 157

他喉咙里发出一声刺耳的声音，用他那强壮的手臂猛力推挤，硬是挤了进去。

Then he made a harsh sound in his throat, and with a violent thrusting movement of his powerful arms pushed his way through.

人群重新合拢，发出一阵嗡嗡的抗议声；过了好一会儿，我才能看清眼前的情形。这时，新来的人打乱了队列，乔丹和我被猛地推到了里面。

The circle closed up again with a running murmur of expostulation; it was a minute before I could see anything at all. Then new arrivals deranged the line, and Jordan and I were pushed suddenly inside.

默特尔·威尔逊的尸体裹着一条毯子，又裹上另一条毯子，仿佛她在这炎热的夜晚受了寒，躺在靠墙的工作台上。汤姆背对着我们，俯身伏在她身上，一动不动。他旁边站着一个摩托车警察，汗流浃背地在一本小册子上费力地记录着名字。

Myrtle Wilson's body, wrapped in a blanket, and then in another blanket, as though she suffered from a chill in the hot night, lay on a worktable by the wall, and Tom, with his back to us, was bending over it, motionless. Next to him stood a motorcycle policeman taking down names with much sweat and correction in a little book.

起初，我找不出那高亢而呻吟的话语从何处传来，那声音在空旷的车库里回荡不止——后来我看见威尔逊站在他办公室高出一级的门槛上，身子前后摇晃，双手抓着门框。有个男人正低声和他说话，不时试图把手放在他的肩上，但威尔逊既听不见，也看不见。他的眼睛慢慢地从摇曳的灯光落向靠墙那张压沉沉的桌子，然后又猛地抬回灯光，他不停地发出那尖锐而骇人的呼号：

At first I couldn't find the source of the high, groaning words that echoed clamorously through the bare garage—then I saw Wilson standing on the raised threshold of his office, swaying back and forth and holding to the doorposts with both hands. Some man was talking to him in a low voice and attempting, from time to time, to lay a hand on his shoulder, but Wilson neither heard nor saw. His eyes would drop slowly from the swinging light to the laden table by the wall, and then jerk back to the light again, and he gave out incessantly his high, horrible call:

"我的天哪！我的天哪！天哪！我的天哪！"

"Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od!"