唐先生坐在那张高背的皮椅子上,抽着烟斗。他显得疲惫不堪,软弱无力,身子坐得那么低,好像要陷进椅子里似的。那样子,仿佛一连干了三天三夜的重活,撑不住了,瘫在了这儿。他的眸子黯淡无神,嘴角下那一对喜悦的旋涡不见了。才同刚入 Mr. Tang sat on the high-back leather chair smoking a pipe. He looked exhausted, weak, weakly seated, as if to fall into a chair. Like that, as if a series of three days and nights of hard work, could not stand, paralyzed in here. His eye dull, the mouth of the whirlpool of joy disappeared. Only with the beginning