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Awomanonaroof?Itwasduringtheweekofhotsun,thatJune.Threemenwereatworkontheroof,wheretheleadsgotsohottheyhadtheideaofthrowingwaterontocoolthem.Butthewatersteamed,thensizzled;andtheymakejokesaboutgettinganeggfromsomewomanintheflatsundertheflatsunderthem,topoachitfortheirdinner.Bytwoitwasnotpossibletotouchthegutteringtheywerereplacing,andtheyspeculatedaboutwhatworkmendidinregularlyhotcountries.Perhapstheyshouldborrowkitchengloveswiththeegg?Theywereallabitdizzy,notusedtotheheat;andtheyshedtheircoatsandstoodsidebysidesqueezingthemselvesintoafootwidepatchofshadeagainstachimney,carefultokeeptheirfeetinthethicksocksandbootsoutofthesun.Therewasafineviewacrossseveralacresofroofs.Notfaroffamansatinadeckchairreadingthenewspapers.Thentheysawher,betweenchimneys,aboutfiftyyardsaway.Shelayfacedownonabrownblanket.Theycouldseethetoppartofher:blackhair,aflushedsolidback,armsspreadout.“She’sstarknaked,”saidStanley,soundingannoyed.Harry,theoldest,amanofaboutforty-five,said:“Lookslikeit.”YoungTom,seventeen,saidnothing,buthewasexcitedandgrinning.Stanleysaid:“Someone’llreportherifshedoesn’twatchout.”“Shethinksnoonecansee,”saidTom,craninghisheadallwaystoseemore.Atthispointthewoman,stilllyingprone,broughthertwohandsupbehindhershoulderswiththeendsofascarfinthem,tieditbehindherback,andsatup.Sheworearedscarftiedaroundherbreastsandbriefredbikinipants.Thisbeingthefirstdayofthesunshewaswhite,flushingred.Shesatsmoking,anddidnotlookupwhenStanleyletoutawolfwhistle.Harrysaid:“Smallthingsamusesmallminds,”leadingthewaybacktotheirpartoftheroof,butitwasscorching.Harrysaid:“Wait,I’mgoingtorigupsomeshade,”anddisappeareddowntheskylightintothebuilding.Nowthathe’dgone,StanleyandTomwenttothefarthestpointtheycouldtopeeratthewoman.Shehadmoved,andalltheycouldseeweretwopinklegsstretchedontheblanket.Theywhistledandshoutedbutthelegsdidnotmove.Harrycamebackwithablanketandshouted:“Comeon,then.”Hesoundedirritatedwiththem.TheyclamberedbacktohimandhesaidtoStanley:“Whataboutyourmissus?”Stanleywasnewlymarried,aboutthreemonths.Stanleysaid,jeering:“Whataboutmymissus?”--preservinghisindependence.Tomsaidnothing,buthismindwasfullofthenearlynakedwoman.Harryslungtheblanket,whichhehadborrowedfromafriendlywomandownstairs,fromthestemofatelevisionaerialtoarowofchimney-pots.Thisshadefellacrossthepieceofguttertheyhadtoreplace.Buttheshadekeptmoving,theyhadtoadjusttheblanket,andnotmuchprogresswasmade.Atlastsomeoftheheatlefttheroof,andtheyworkedfast,makingupforlosttime.FirstStanley,thenTom,madeatriptotheendoftherooftoseethewoman.“She’sonherback,”Stanleysaid,addingajestwhichmadeTomsnicker,andtheoldermansmiletolerantly.Tom’sreportwasthatshehadn’tmoved,butitwasalie.Hewantedtokeepwhathehadseentohimself:hehadcaughtherintheactofrollingdownthelittleredpantsoverherhips,tilltheywerenomorethanasmalltriangle.Shewasonherback,fullyvisible,glisteningwithoil.Nextmorning,assoonastheycameup,theywenttolook.Shewasalreadythere,facedown,armsspreadout,nakedexceptforthelittleredpants.Shehadturnedbrowninthenight.Yesterdayshewasascarlet-and-whitewoman,todayshewasabrownwoman.Stanleyletoutawhistle.Sheliftedherhead,startled,asifshe’dbeenasleep,andlookedstraightoveratthem.Thesunwasinhereyes,sheblinkedandstared,thenshedroppedherheadagain.Atthisgestureofindifference,theyallthree,Stanley,TomandoldHarry,letoutwhistlesandyells.Harrywasdoingitinparodyoftheyoungermen,makingfunofthem,buthewasalsoangry.Theywereallangrybecauseofherutterindifferencetothethreemenwatchingher.“Bitch,”saidStanley.“Sheshouldaskusover,”saidTom,snickering.HarryrecoveredhimselfandremindedStanley:“Ifshe’smarried,heroldmanwouldn’tlikethat.”“Christ,”saidStanleyvirtuously,“ifmywifelayaboutlikethat,foreveryonetosee,I’dsoonstopher.”Harrysaid,smiling:“Howdoyouknow,perhapsshe’ssunningherselfatthisverymoment?”“Notachance,notonourroof.”ThesafetyofhiswifeputStanleyintoagoodhumor,andtheywenttowork.Buttodayitwashotterthanyesterday;andseveraltimesoneortheothersuggestedtheyshouldtellMatthew,theforeman,andasktoleavetheroofuntiltheheatwavewasover.Buttheydidn’t.Therewasworktobedoneinthebasementofthebigblockofflats,butupheretheyfeltfree,onadifferentlevelfromordinaryhumanityshutinthestreetsorthebuildings.Alotmorepeoplecameoutontotheroofsthatday,foranhouratmidday.Somemarriedcouplessatsidebysideindeckchairs,thewomen’slegsstockinglessandscarlet,themeninvestswithreddeningshoulders.Thewomanstayedonherblanket,turningherselfoverandover.Sheignoredthem,nomatterwhattheydid.WhenHarrywentofftofetchmorescrews,Stanleysaid:“Comeon.”Herroofbelongedtoadifferentsystemofroofs,separatedfromtheirsatonepointbyabouttwentyfeet.Itmeantascramblingclimbfromoneleveltoanother,edgingalongparapets,clingingtochimneys,whiletheirbigbootsslippedandheredslithered,butatlasttheystoodonasmallsquareprojectingrooflookingstraightdownather,close.Shesatsmoking,readingabook.Tomthoughtshelookedlikeaposter,oramagazinecover,withtheblueskybehindherandherlegsstretchedout.BehindheragreatcraneatworkonanewbuildinginOxfordStreetswungitsblackarmacrossroofsinagreatarc.Tomimaginedhimselfatworkonthecrane,adjustingthearmto
本文标题:A-woman-on-a-roof-英语原文
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