" The marriage is no misfortune in itself, " she retorted with some little petulance.
“婚姻本身不是什么不幸,”她有点不快地反驳道。
And then she would pout like a disappointed child; a pensive cloud would soften her radiant vivacity; she would withdraw her hand hastily from his, and turn in transient petulance from his aspect, at once so heroic and so martyr-like.
随后,她会像一个失望的孩子那样撅起嘴,接着便蒙上阴云,神情沮丧,她从他手里抽出手来,一时使性子转过身去,不再去看他那既像英雄又像殉道者的面容。