佛罗伦斯月光下

我不会把我所有的本事都放在橱窗里给人看。

他是个浪漫的人，他那些虚饰、浮夸的大话是出自一个对书本所知多过对生命了解的人之口，虽然他自己有那么可怕的遭遇，到他很可能不会接受她任何的东西。

这段唐顿大小姐玛丽给某某做饭的既视感，看短评也有人说看这书想到唐顿庄园，可能唐顿庄园编剧真的很爱毛姆。开始以为《沉香屑.第一炉香》，或者是个罗马之春的结局，结果是个HE

Coming into the room Mary was acutely sensitive to the general spirit of cheerful goodwill that greeted her, but just that, that headless pleasure in the moment, shocking her like the sudden furnace heat when came out of the cool shade of a narrow Florentine street on a sun-baked square, gave her a sharp, cruel pang of dismay. That poor boy was even now lying under the open sky on a hillside over the Arno with a bullet in his heart. But she caught sight of Rowley at the other end of the room, his eyes upon her, and she remembered what he had said. He was making his way towards her. Harold Atkinson, her host, was a fine handsome gray-haired man, plethoric and somewhat corpulent, with an eye for a pretty woman, and he was fond of flirting in a heavy, fatherly way with Mary. He was holding her hand now longer than was necessary. Rowley came up.