She took in Edward's still form on the recliner, and tiptoed to my bedside.

爱德华依旧维持着一动不动地睡在躺椅上的姿势，她看在眼里，踮着脚走的我的边。

And now it was a question of tiptoe work, not daring to go too fast, hardly daring to breathe, out through the scullery (giant sculleries smell horrid), out at last into the pale sunlight of a winter afternoon.

这会儿只是踮着脚走路的问题，他们不敢走得太快，也不大敢呼吸，就这么走出间(巨人的间味道可难闻呢)，终于来到冬日下午淡淡的阳光下。