He had been through a good deal that day, and by the time he reached his hotel he was quite worn out. The night porter who admitted him noticed his haggard appearance.
“You don’t look very well, sir,” he said, sympathetically; “is there anything I can do for you?”
“If you could manage to get me a brandy and soda2, I should be very much obliged,” Godfrey said, as he dropped into one of the seats in the hall.
“I will do so with pleasure, sir,” the man replied, and disappeared at once in search of the refreshment3, which he very soon brought back. Godfrey drank it off, and then announced his intention of proceeding4 at once to bed.
“Poor little Teresina!” he said to himself as he wound up his watch; “poor little girl, it seems a shame that she should suffer so!”
Little did he guess that at that moment Teresina’s troubles were over, that she would never know sorrow or poverty again.
Next morning he returned to Detwich by an early train. Though he had only been absent from it a little more than twenty-four hours, it seemed to him that he had been away for years.
“You look tired out, Godfrey,” said his mother, as they stood together in the hall.
“I did not have a very good night last night,” he said, “and I had a hard day’s running about yesterday. That is all. You needn’t worry about me, mother; I’m as strong as a horse.”
He went on to tell his mother of his meeting with Fensden, and informed her that the latter intended coming to stay with them next day.
“That will be very nice,” she said. “You will enjoy having him. I shall put him up in the south wing in order that he may be near you. The wall-papers are more subdued5 there. I know, of old, how he notices these things.”
“I don’t think he will bother himself very much about wall-papers,” said Godfrey, with a laugh. “He declares that he is so tired of travelling that the quiet of an English country house will brace6 him up again.”
“I have no doubt it will,” said the old lady: “I remember when your father took me to Paris for our honeymoon7, the mere8 sound of the French language gave me a headache. I never hear it now without thinking of that time. And now tell me about Molly. Did she enjoy the play you took her to see?”
“Immensely,” he replied. “She sent her love to you, and bade me tell you that she would be very pleased to come over to meet Fensden on Saturday. I only hope that she won’t be knocked up by all this shopping.”
His mother shook her head.
“I don’t think you need have any fear on that score,” she said. “When a girl is about to be married to the man of her heart, the collection of her trousseau becomes a labour of love. She will make a beautiful bride, worthy9 of my boy. I can’t say more than that.”
“You shouldn’t say so much,” said Godfrey. “If your boy were to believe all the compliments you pay him, he would become insufferably conceited10. And now I must go round and see how things have been progressing in my absence.”
The following morning witnessed Molly’s arrival at the Hall. It was the first time she had stayed there since her engagement, and in consequence she was received with rapturous delight by her lover. Though they had only been parted for a day, they seemed to have a hundred things to tell each other. There were, moreover, certain important matters to be discussed connected with the internal arrangements of the house of which she was so soon to be mistress. I believe, so infatuated was the young man that, had she expressed a desire to have the whole fabric11 pulled down, and rebuilt in another fashion, he would have set about the work at once.
“You are quite sure there is nothing else you would like to have done?” he asked, when they had made the tour of inspection12, and were approaching to the drawing-room once more.
“You have done too much already,” she replied, looking affectionately at her lover. “I very much doubt if ever there was a girl so spoilt as I. You will have to make up for it by ruling me with a rod of iron afterward13.”
“God forbid that I should ever do that,” he said seriously. “I hope I shall always be an indulgent husband to you.”
“Not too indulgent,” she said. “For my own sake, you must not be. I don’t want to be like a spoilt child.”
“You will never be that,” he said. “To me you will always be the most ——”
“Hush!” she said, holding up her finger in warning. “I think we must make it a rule to avoid every sort of compliment. I have had more than is good for me already.”
“I shall find it difficult to obey you, but I will try,” he returned. “And now come with me to the studio; I have one thing left to show you.”
“What is that?”
“You must wait and see for yourself,” he replied, and led the way through the conservatory14 to the room of which he had spoken. They found the easel covered with a cloth. This he drew aside.
“It is my present to you,” he said, referring to the picture he had revealed, “to be hung in your own room.”
“Oh, Godfrey, how good of you! What a splendid likeness16!”
It was, in fact, a portrait of himself upon which he had been working hard ever since his engagement had been announced. He had intended it as a surprise, and in the pleasure he gave her, he felt that he had been amply repaid for the labour it had cost him.
“I shall treasure it all my life long,” she said, and rewarded him in a manner that would have turned many folks green with envy.
“And now,” she said, when she had gazed her full upon it, “I want you to show me a photograph of your friend, Mr. Fensden, if you have one. Remember I have no idea what he is like.”
“That can very easily be remedied,” he said. “I have a photo which was taken in Rome, and a small portrait that I painted myself.”
So saying, he crossed the room to his writing-table, and, having opened a drawer, took from it a packet of cabinet photographs. They were, for the most part, likenesses of old friends, and when he had selected one of Victor from the number, he placed it before her.
“So that is Mr. Fensden?” she said, seating herself in what he called his business chair.
For some moments she studied it attentively17. Then she replaced it on the writing-table.
“Well, now that you have seen the portrait, what do you think of him?” Godfrey asked, as he turned over some canvases on the other side of the room.
“I scarcely know what to say,” she replied, slowly. “It is a refined face, a clever one, if you like; but, if I may be allowed to say what I think, there is something in it, I can not tell what, that I do not care about. I fancy the eyes are set a little too close together.” Then she added more quickly: “I hope I have not offended you, dear. I should not have spoken so candidly18.”
“Why shouldn’t you?” he inquired. “Perhaps, now you speak of it, the eyes are a little too close together. But you must wait until you have seen the man himself before you judge him. I assure you he can be a charming companion.”
“I gathered as much from his photograph,” she answered, taking it up and looking at it again, “At what time does he arrive to-day?”
“In time for afternoon tea,” said Godfrey. “I am going to drive in to meet him.”
Molly made a little moue; with the selfishness of love, she did not approve of Godfrey leaving her, if only for so short a time. And, if the truth be confessed, I fear she was a little jealous of the man who was to be responsible for his absence. It is not always that a sweetheart is any too well disposed toward her lover’s bachelor friends. For some reason, Fensden’s photograph had prejudiced her against him. She was resolved to be just; but she felt convinced in her own mind that she would never be able to say that she really liked or trusted the man. She did not tell Godfrey this.
In accordance with the arrangements he had made, that afternoon, at about three o’clock, Godfrey drove off to the station to meet his friend. He was looking forward to seeing him, if only that he might show him how great was the difference between the sketch19 the other had drawn20 of his future wife that night in the desert, and the reality. I fancy if England had been searched through that day, a happier young man than the master of Detwich would have been difficult to find. Yet, though he could not guess it, the climax21 of his life was only a few hours’ distant.
As he drove along, he thought of Molly and the happiness that was to be his portion in the future. Then his thoughts turned to Teresina. While he had prospered22 in the world, she had lost what little happiness she had ever possessed23. He determined24 to discuss her affairs with Fensden on the first available opportunity, when doubtless the latter would be able to suggest a way in which he might assist her. By the time he had arrived at this reflection, he had reached the station, and the groom25 was standing26 at the horse’s head. Having placed the reins27 under the patent clip, he descended28 from the cart and went on to the platform. The station-master saluted29 him respectfully, and informed him that the train had already been signalled. Indeed, the words had scarcely left that functionary’s lips before a whistle was heard in the cutting, and a moment later it came into view. As the train swept past him Godfrey caught a glimpse of the man he had come to meet, gathering30 together his travelling things, in a first-class carriage.
“How are you, my dear old fellow?” he cried, as he turned the handle of the door. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you! I am afraid you have had a cold journey. Let me take some of your things.”
Victor graciously permitted the other to assist him with his luggage, and then he himself descended from the carriage. They shook hands and afterward strolled in the direction of the gate. Victor was attired31 in a magnificent travelling ulster, and a neat deer-stalker’s hat. An orange-coloured tie peeped from the opening under his beard, and his hands were as daintily gloved as a lady’s. Altogether, as he walked down the platform, he presented as artistic32 a figure as Detwich had seen for a very long time.
“What have you been doing since I saw you?” Godfrey inquired as they took their places in the dog-cart.
“Repairing the ravages33 of time and Continental34 travel,” Victor replied, somewhat ambiguously. Then he added politely: “I hope Miss Devereux is well?”
“Very well, indeed,” said Godfrey, “and most anxious to see you. She has read your poems and has seen your portrait; all she requires now is to be introduced to the original.”
“In that case I fear she will be disappointed,” said Victor, with what was almost a sneer35 in his voice. “Since she is with you, I presume your mother and sister are at the Hall. Do they look forward to the idea of turning out?”
“They are a pair of foolish women who would do anything, or give up anything in order to make me happy,” the other replied. “As a matter of fact, I don’t know that they altogether mind. They both prefer London, and when they return from their travels, I believe it is their intention to take a flat and settle down somewhere in the neighbourhood of Kensington.”
“While you are assimilating the bucolic36 virtues38. Well, it’s a pretty picture, and if I had fifteen thousand a year and a fine estate I might be tempted39 to do the same. As I haven’t the money or the property I remain what I am.”
“And that is?”
“A trifler,” Victor replied, with unusual bitterness. “One who might have done and who did not — who dropped the substance in an attempt to grasp the shadow.”
“Nonsense,” said Godfrey, who did not like to hear his friend abuse himself in this fashion. “If you are going to talk like that I shall have to prescribe a long dose of country air.”
Then, in an attempt to change the other’s thoughts, he talked of their travels together, and of the curious characters they had met, which lasted until they had passed through the lodge40 gates and were well on their way across the park. Even in the sombreness of winter the place looked very beautiful, and Victor expressed himself delighted with it.
“I had no idea it was so fine,” he said, as they swept round the drive and came into view of the house. “I can very well understand your liking41 for a country life when you possess an estate like this. Your uncle did you a kind action when he made you his heir.”
“Nobody is more sensible of that fact than I am,” Godfrey replied. “I only wish I could let the old fellow know how grateful I am. I often think that during his lifetime he was disappointed in me because I took to painting instead of becoming a country gentleman. I wonder what he would say if he could see me now? I don’t know what you may think, but to my mind there are times when one likes to imagine that the dead are near us.”
Victor gave a violent start, followed by a shiver.
“Good Heavens! What an idea!” he cried. Then, dropping back into his old cynical42 tone, he continued: “I am afraid that if your idea were possible our human affairs would become somewhat complicated. For my own part I am quite content that the matter should stand as it is.”
As he finished speaking they drew up before the steps and the two men descended from the cart. The ladies were waiting in the hall to receive them.
“How do you do, Mr. Fensden?” said Mrs. Henderson, coming forward to meet him. “It is a long time since we have met, and you have been a great traveller in the meantime.”
“Thanks to your son,” said Victor as he took her hand. “How do you do, Miss Kitty? Events advance too quickly with all of us, but they seem to have taken giant strides with you.”
“You mean that when last we met I was still on the other side of that line which is only crossed by a girl when she performs the mysterious operation called ‘putting her hair up,’” answered that sharp-tongued young lady.
“Now, Victor,” said Godfrey, when Kitty had been annihilated43, “let me have the pleasure of introducing you to Miss Devereux.”
The couple bowed to each other, and Victor offered her his congratulations.
“And now you must come and have your tea,” said Mrs. Henderson, hospitably44. “You must need it, I am sure, after your long journey.”
“Or perhaps you would prefer something more substantial,” put in Godfrey. “I noticed that you shivered as we came up the drive.”
“I really think I should,” said Victor. “After the warmth of the East our English winters are not to be trifled with.”
Godfrey led the way to the dining-room and placed the spirit-stand before his friend.
“I don’t think I have ever been so cold in my life before,” said Victor, as he poured out an amount of brandy for himself that made Godfrey open his eyes in astonishment45, for he had always looked upon the other as an exceedingly temperate46 man.
“Now, tell me, would you prefer to see your room first?” Godfrey inquired, when the other had tossed off his refreshment, “or shall we join the ladies?”
“Perhaps I had better make myself presentable first,” Victor answered, glancing complacently47 at himself in the mirror above the chimney-piece.
Godfrey accordingly led the way to the room which had been set apart for his friend’s use, and to which the latter’s luggage had been conveyed. It was a pleasant apartment, looking out on what was called the Ladies’ Garden, and thence across the park to a high and wooded hill. Victor went to the window and studied the prospect48.
“You have a charming home,” he said, with what was almost a sigh; “you are about to marry a beautiful girl; you have wealth, success, and everything else that can make life worth living, Godfrey. You should be a happy man.”
“I am happy,” Godfrey replied, “and, please God, I’ll do my best to make others so. And that reminds me, Victor, I want to have a talk with you. Do you know that on Thursday night I met Teresina in the Strand49?”
Victor had turned from the window, and was brushing his hair at the time. As he heard what Godfrey said, the brush fell from his hand upon the floor. As he picked it up and continued his toilet, he said in surprise:
“Teresina in London? Surely you must have been mistaken. I thought she was still in Naples?”
“She is in London,” Godfrey repeated. “I could not have been mistaken, for I spoke15 to her.”
“At what time did you see her?”
“Just about midnight,” his friend replied.
“Are you aware that the signora is dead and that Teresina is married?”
“How should I be likely to?” said Victor. “You know that I have not seen her since I bade her good-bye in your studio before we went abroad. And so the pretty model is married? Well, I suppose the proper thing to say is that one hopes that she will be happy.”
“But she is not happy, far from it. Her husband as well as her mother is dead.”
“I believe there are some wives who would consider that fact to be not altogether a matter for sorrow. But what makes you think that Teresina is unhappy?”
“Because she told me so, though she would not tell me anything further. The poor girl seemed in terrible distress50.”
“And you gave her money, I suppose?” said Victor. “That is usually the way one soothes51 trouble of her kind. I hope she was grateful.”
“I wish to goodness you wouldn’t be so cynical,” said Godfrey, almost losing his temper. “I wanted to help her, but she would not let me. Every time I offered my assistance she implored52 me to leave her. She broke down altogether when we reached her house.”
“Then you took her home?” said the other. “Do you think that was wise?”
“Why should I not have done so?”
“Well, you see,” said Victor, putting his brushes back into their case, “circumstances have somewhat changed with you. Miss Devereux might not altogether approve.”
“Miss Devereux is too good and kind a girl to object to my doing what I could to comfort an old friend in trouble.”
“But when that old friend in trouble happens to be an extremely beautiful girl the situation becomes slightly changed. However, don’t think that I am endeavouring to interfere53. And now shall we go downstairs?”
“But, confound it, Victor, you don’t mean to say that you take no more interest in Teresina’s fate than this? I thought you liked her as much as I did.”
“Mon cher ami,” said Victor, rearranging his tie before the glass, “that is scarcely fair, either to yourself or to me. Have you forgotten a little discussion we had together, and which eventually resulted in our leaving England for a time? Had you not taken such an interest in Teresina then, I doubt very much whether I should have seen Cairo or Jerusalem, or a lot of other places. But still, my dear fellow, if there is anything I can do to help your old model you may be sure I shall be only too glad to do it.”
“I knew you would,” said Godfrey, placing his hand affectionately on the other’s shoulder. “We must talk it over some time and see what can be done. It will never do to let her go on as she is now.”
“You have no idea, I suppose, of the origin of the trouble?”
“Not the least. She would tell me nothing. She tried to make me believe that she had plenty of work, and that she did not stand in need of any assistance. I knew better, however.”
“And where is she living?”
“In Burford Street, off the Tottenham Court Road. It is a miserable54 place, mainly occupied by foreigners. The house is on the right-hand side.”
“Very well,” said Victor. “When I go back to town I will look her up. It will be hard if we can’t arrange something.”
Then they descended the stairs together and entered the drawing-room.
“My dear Godfrey, are you aware that you will have one wife in a hundred?” said Kitty, pointing to a table on which some twenty packages of all sizes, shapes, and descriptions were arranged.
“How so?” said Godfrey. “What new virtue37 have you discovered in her?”
“I have found that she can subordinate curiosity to a sense of duty,” said the young lady. “These presents arrived for you just after you left for the station, and yet she would not open them herself or allow me to do so until you returned. I have been consumed with a mad desire to explore them, particularly that foreign-looking box at the end.”
“Well, your curiosity shall very soon be satisfied,” he said. “But we must begin with the most important-looking packages.”
“Let us pray that there are no more Apostle spoons, serviette-rings, or silver sweet-dishes,” said Molly. “We have already some two dozen of each.”
Package after package was opened in its turn and the contents displayed. As they were for the most part presents to the bridegroom individually, they were mainly of a nature suited to his tastes: hunting flasks55, silver sandwich cases, cigar and cigarette holders56, and articles of a similar description. At last they came to the curious-looking box to which Kitty had referred. It was oblong in shape, and bore the name of a Vienna firm stamped on the end. It was tied with cord, and the label was addressed in an uneducated handwriting to “Mr. Godfrey Henderson, Detwich Hall, Detwich, Midlandshire.”
In his own mind he had no doubt that it emanated57 from Teresina, who, as he was aware, had been informed as to his approaching marriage. Having untied58 the cord, he prized the lid, which was nailed down, with a dagger59 paper-knife, which he took from a table close at hand. An unpleasant odour immediately permeated60 the room. A folded sheet of newspaper covered the contents, whatever they were, and this Godfrey removed, only to spring back with a cry of horror. In the box, the fingers tightly interlaced, were two tiny hands, which had been severed61 from the body, to which they had once belonged, at the wrist.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
meditated
|
|
| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
soda
|
|
| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
refreshment
|
|
| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
brace
|
|
| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
honeymoon
|
|
| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
conceited
|
|
| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
fabric
|
|
| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
conservatory
|
|
| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
candidly
|
|
| adv.坦率地，直率而诚恳地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
sketch
|
|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
prospered
|
|
| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
reins
|
|
| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
ravages
|
|
| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
continental
|
|
| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sneer
|
|
| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
bucolic
|
|
| adj.乡村的；牧羊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
annihilated
|
|
| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
hospitably
|
|
| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
temperate
|
|
| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
complacently
|
|
| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
strand
|
|
| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
soothes
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
flasks
|
|
| n.瓶，长颈瓶， 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
holders
|
|
| 支持物( holder的名词复数 )； 持有者； （支票等）持有人； 支托（或握持）…之物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
emanated
|
|
| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
untied
|
|
| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
dagger
|
|
| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
permeated
|
|
| 弥漫( permeate的过去式和过去分词 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
severed
|
|
| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |