He would stay up until very late, suffocating in his faded velvet vest, scribbling with his tiny sparrow hands, whose rings had lost the glow of former times.
Young T. A. swung back to his desk, tore from the pad before him the piece of paper on which he had been scrawling, crushed it, and tossed it into the wastebasket with an air of finality.
年轻 T. A. 转身回到办公桌前,从面前便笺本上撕下一直在上面乱涂乱那张纸,压碎它,然后用一种下定决心神气把它扔进废纸篓。