It is a block where the citizens have civic2 pride. A newspaper has not the least chance of lying about on the asphalt — some householder with a frequently barbered mustache will indignantly pounce3 upon it inside of an hour. No awe4. is caused by the sight of vestibules floored with marble in alternate black and white tiles, scrubbed not by landladies5, but by maids. There are dotted Swiss curtains at the basement windows and Irish point curtains on the first floors. There are two polished brass6 doorplates in a stretch of less than eight houses. Distinctly, it is not a quarter where children fill the street with shouting and little sticks.
Occasionally a taxicab drives up to some door without a crowd of small boys gathering7; and young men in evening clothes are not infrequently seen to take out young ladies wearing tight-fitting gowns of black, and light scarfs over their heads. A Middle Western college fraternity has a club-house in the block, and four of the houses are private — one of them belonging to a police inspector8 and one to a school principal who wears spats9.
It is a block that is satisfied with itself; as different from the Zapp district, where landladies in gingham run out to squabble with berry-venders, as the Zapp district is from the Ghetto10.
Mrs. Arty Ferrard’s house is a poor relation to most of the residences there. The black areaway rail is broken, and the basement-door grill11 is rusty12. But at the windows are red-and-white-figured chintz curtains, with a $2.98 bisque figurine of an unclothed lady between them; the door is of spotless white, with a bell-pull of polished brass.
Mr. Wrenn yanked this bell-pull with an urbane13 briskness14 which, he hoped, would conceal15 his nervousness and delight in dining out. For he was one of the lonely men in New York. He had dined out four times in eight years.
The woman of thirty-five or thirty-eight who opened the door to him was very fat, two-thirds as fat as Mrs. Zapp, but she had young eyes. Her mouth was small, arched, and quivering in a grin.
“This is Mr. Wrenn, isn’t it?” she gurgled, and leaned against the doorpost, merry, apparently16 indolent. “I’m Mrs. Ferrard. Mr. Poppins told me you were coming, and he said you were a terribly nice man, and I was to be sure and welcome you. Come right in.”
Her indolence turned to energy as she charged down the hall to the large double door on the right and threw it open, revealing to him a scene of splendor17 and revelry by night.
Several persons [they seemed dozens, in their liveliness] were singing and shouting to piano music, in the midst of a general redness and brightness of furnishings — red paper and worn red carpet and a high ceiling with circular moldings tinted18 in pink. Hand-painted pictures of old mills and ladies brooding over salmon19 sunsets, and an especially hand-painted Christmas scene with snow of inlaid mother-of-pearl, animated20 the walls. On a golden-oak center-table was a large lamp with a mosaic21 shade, and through its mingled22 bits of green and red and pearl glass stormed the brilliance23 of a mantle-light.
The room was crowded with tufted plush and imitation-leather chairs, side-tables and corner brackets, a couch and a “lady’s desk.” Green and red and yellow vases adorned24 with figures of youthful lovers crammed25 the top of the piano at the farther end of the room and the polished black-marble mantel of the fireplace. The glaring gas raced the hearth-fire for snap and glare and excitement. The profusion26 of furniture was like a tumult27; the redness and oakness and polishedness of furniture was a dizzying activity; and it was all overwhelmingly magnified by the laughter and singing about the piano.
Tom Poppins lumbered28 up from a couch of terrifically new and red leather, and Mr. Wrenn was introduced to the five new people in the room with dismaying swiftness. There seemed to be fifty times five unapproachable and magnificent strangers from whom he wanted to flee. Of them all he was sure of only two — a Miss Nelly somebody and what sounded like Horatio Hood29 Tem (Teddem it was).
He wished that he had caught Miss Nelly’s last name (which, at dinner, proved to be Croubel), for he was instantly taken by her sweetness as she smiled, held out a well-shaped hand, and said, “So pleased meet you, Mr. Wrenn.”
She returned to the front of the room and went on talking to a lank30 spinster about ruchings, but Mr. Wrenn felt that he had known her long and as intimately as it was possible to know so clever a young woman.
Nelly Croubel gave him the impression of a delicate prettiness, a superior sort of prettiness, like that of the daughter of the Big White House on the Hill, the Squire’s house, at Parthenon; though Nelly was not unusually pretty. Indeed, her mouth was too large, her hair of somewhat ordinary brown. But her face was always changing with emotions of kindliness31 and life. Her skin was perfect; her features fine, rather Greek; her smile, quick yet sensitive. She was several inches shorter than Mr. Wrenn, and all curves. Her blouse of white silk lay tenderly along the adorably smooth softness of her young shoulders. A smart patent-leather belt encircled her sleek32 waist. Thin black lisle stockings showed a modestly arched and rather small foot in a black pump.
She looked as though she were trained for business; awake, self-reliant, self-respecting, expecting to have to get things done, all done, yet she seemed indestructibly gentle, indestructibly good and believing, and just a bit shy.
Nelly Croubel was twenty-four or twenty-five in years, older in business, and far younger in love. She was born in Upton’s Grove33, Pennsylvania. There, for eighteen years, she had played Skip to Malue at parties, hid away the notes with which the boys invited her to picnics at Baptist Beach, read much Walter Scott, and occasionally taught Sunday-school. Her parents died when she was beginning her fourth year in high school, and she came to New York to work in Wanamacy’s toy department at six dollars a week during the holiday rush. Her patience with fussy34 old shoppers and her large sales-totals had gained her a permanent place in the store.
She had loftily climbed to the position of second assistant buyer in the lingerie department, at fourteen dollars and eighty cents a week That was quite all of her history except that she attended a Presbyterian church nearly every Sunday. The only person she hated was Horatio Hood Teddem, the cheap actor who was playing the piano at Mr. Wrenn’s entrance.
Just now Horatio was playing ragtime35 with amazing rapidity, stamping his foot and turning his head to smirk36 at the others.
Mrs. Arty led her chattering37 flock to the basement dining-room, which had pink wall-paper and a mountainous sideboard. Mr. Wrenn was placed between Mrs. Arty and Nelly Croubel. Out of the mist of strangeness presently emerged the personality of Miss Mary Proudfoot, a lively but religious spinster of forty who made doilies for the Dorcas Women’s Exchange and had two hundred dollars a year family income. To the right of the red-glass pickle-dish were the elderly Ebbitts — Samuel Ebbitt, Esq., also Mrs. Ebbitt. Mr. Ebbitt had come from Hartford five years before, but he always seemed just to have come from there. He was in a real-estate office; he was gray, ill-tempered, impatiently honest, and addicted38 to rheumatism39 and the newspapers. Mrs. Ebbitt was addicted only to Mr. Ebbitt.
Across the table was felt the presence of James T. Duncan, who looked like a dignified40 red-mustached Sunday-school superintendent41, but who traveled for a cloak and suit house, gambled heavily on poker42 and auction43 pinochle, and was esteemed44 for his straight back and knowledge of trains.
Which is all of them.
As soon as Mrs. Arty had guided Annie, the bashful maid, in serving the vegetable soup, and had coaxed45 her into bringing Mr. Wrenn a napkin, she took charge of the conversation, a luxury which she would never have intrusted to her flock’s amateurish46 efforts. Mr. Poppins, said she, had spoken of meeting a friend of Mr. Wrenn’s; Mr. Morton, was it not? A very nice man, she understood. Was it true that Mr. Wrenn and Mr. Morton had gone clear across the Atlantic on a cattle-boat? It really was?
“Oh, how interesting!” contributed pretty Nelly Croubel, beside Mr. Wrenn, her young eyes filled with an admiration48 which caused him palpitation and difficulty in swallowing his soup. He was confused by hearing old Samuel Ebbitt state:
“Uh-h-h-h — back in 18 — uh — 1872 the vessel49 Prissie — no, it was 1873; no, it must have been ‘72 —”
“It was 1872, father,” said Mrs. Ebbitt.
“1873. I was on a coasting-vessel, young man. But we didn’t carry cattle.” Mr. Ebbitt inspected Horatio Hood Teddem darkly, clicked his spectacle case sharply shut, and fell to eating, as though he had settled all this nonsense.
With occasional witty50 interruptions from the actor, Mr. Wrenn told of pitching hay, of the wit of Morton, and the wickedness of Satan, the boss.
“But you haven’t told us about the brave things you did,” cooed Mrs. Arty. She appealed to Nelly Croubel: “I’ll bet he was a cool one. Don’t you think he was, Nelly?”
“I’m sure he was.” Nelly’s voice was like a flute51.
Mr. Wrenn knew that there was just one thing in the world that he wanted to do; to persuade Miss Nelly Croubel that (though he was a solid business man, indeed yes, and honorable) he was a cool one, who had chosen, in wandering o’er this world so wide, the most perilous52 and cattle-boaty places. He tried to think of something modest yet striking to say, while Tom was arguing with Miss Mary Proudfoot, the respectable spinster, about the ethics53 of giving away street-car transfers.
As they finished their floating custard Mr. Wrenn achieved, “Do you come from New York, Miss Croubel?” and listened to the tale of sleighing-parties in Upton’s Grove, Pennsylvania. He was absolutely happy.
“This is like getting home,” he thought. “And they’re classy folks to get home to — now that I can tell ’em apart. Gee54! Miss Croubel is a peach. And brains — golly!”
He had a frightened hope that after dinner he would be able to get into a corner and talk with Nelly, but Tom Poppins conferred with Horatio Hood Teddenm and called Mr. Wrenn aside. Teddem had been acting55 with a moving-picture company for a week, and had three passes to the celebrated56 Waldorf Photoplay Theater.
Mr. Wrenn had bloodthirstily disapproved57 Horatio Hood’s effeminate remarks, such as “Tee hee!“ and “Oh, you naughty man,” but when he heard that this molly-coddle had shared in the glory of making moving pictures he went proudly forth58 with him and Tom. He had no chance to speak to Mrs. Arty about taking the room to be vacated.
He wished that Charley Carpenter or the Zapps could see him sitting right beside an actor who was shown in the pictures miraculously59 there before them, asking him how they made movies, just as friendly as though they had known each other always.
He wanted to do something to entertain his friends beyond taking them out for a drink. He invited them down to his room, and they came.
Teddem was in wonderful form; he mimicked60 every one they saw so amiably61 that Tom Poppins knew the actor wanted to borrow money. The party were lovingly humming the popular song of the time —“Any Little Girl That’s a Nice Little Girl is the Right Little Girl for Me”— as they frisked up the gloomy steps of the Zapps. Entering, Poppins and Teddem struck attitudes on the inside stairs and sang aloud.
Mr. Wrenn felt enormously conscious of Mrs. Zapp down below. He kept listening, as he led them up-stairs and lighted the gas. But Teddem so imitated Colonel Roosevelt, with two water-glasses for eye-glasses and a small hat-brush for mustache, that Mr. Wrenn was moved wrigglingly to exclaim: “Say, I’m going out and get some beer. Or ‘d you rather have something else? Some cheese sandwiches? How about ’em?”
“Fine,” said Tom and Teddem together.
Not only did Mr. Wrenn buy a large newspaper-covered bundle of bottles of beer and Swiss-cheese sandwiches, but also a small can of caviar and salty crackers62. In his room he spread a clean towel, then two clean towels, on the bureau, and arrayed the feast, with two water-glasses and a shaving-mug for cups.
Horatio Hood Teddem, spreading caviar on a sandwich, and loudly singing his masterpiece, “Waal I swan,” stopped short and fixed63 amazed eyes on the door of the room.
Mr. Wrenn hastily turned. The light fell — as on a cliff of crumbly gray rock — on Mrs. Zapp, in the open door, vast in her ungirdled gray wrapper, her arms folded, glowering64 speechlessly.
“Mist’ Wrenn,” she began, in a high voice that promised to burst into passion.
But she was addressing the formidable adventurer, Bill Wrenn. He had to protect his friends. He sprang up and walked across to her.
He said, quietly, “I didn’t hear you knock, Mrs. Zapp.”
“Ah didn’t knock, and Ah want you should —”
“Then please do knock, unless you want me to give notice.”
He was quivering. His voice was shrill65.
From the hall below Theresa called up, “Ma, come down here. Ma!”
But Mrs. Zapp was too well started. “If you think Ah’m going to stand for a lazy sneaking67 little drunkard keeping the whole street awake, and here it is prett’ nearly midnight —”
Just then Mr. William Wrenn saw and heard the most astounding68 thing of his life, and became an etemal slave to Tom Poppins.
Tom’s broad face became hard, his voice businesslike. He shouted at Mrs. Zapp:
“Beat it or I’ll run you in. Trouble with you is, you old hag, you don’t appreciate a nice quiet little chap like Wrenn, and you try to bully69 him — and him here for years. Get out or I’ll put you out. I’m no lamb, and I won’t stand for any of your monkey-shines. Get out. This ain’t your room; he’s rented it — he’s paid the rent — it’s his room. Get out!”
Kindly70 Tom Poppins worked in a cigar-store and was accustomed to talk back to drunken men six feet tall. His voice was tremendous, and he was fatly immovable; he didn’t a bit mind the fact that Mrs. Zapp was still “glaring speechless.”
But behold71 an ally to the forlorn lady. When Theresa, in the hall below, heard Tom, she knew that Mr. Wrenn would room here no more. She galloped72 up-stairs and screeched73 over her mother’s shoulder:
“You will pick on a lady, will you, you drunken scum — you — you cads — I’ll have you arrested so quick you —”
“Look here, lady,” said Tom, gently. “I’m a plain-clothes man, a detective.” His large voice purred like a tiger-tabby’s. “I don’t want to run you in, but I will if you don’t get out of here and shut that door. Or you might go down and call the cop on this block. He’ll run you in — for breaking Code 2762 of the Penal74 Law! Trespass75 and flotsam — that’s what it is!”
Uneasy, frightened, then horrified76, Mrs. Zapp swung bulkily about and slammed the door.
Sick, guilty, banished77 from home though he felt, Mr. Wrenn’s voice quavered, with an attempt at dignity:
“I’m awful sorry she butted78 in while you fellows was here. I don’t know how to apologize”
“Forget it, old man,” rolled out Tom’s bass79. “Come on, let’s go up to Mrs. Arty’s.”
“But, gee! it’s nearly a quarter to eleven.”
“That’s all right. We can get up there by a little after, and Mrs. Arty stays up playing cards till after twelve.”
“Golly!” Mr. Wrenn agitatedly80 ejaculated under his breath, as they noisily entered Mrs. Arty’s — though not noisily on his part.
The parlor81 door was open. Mrs. Arty’s broad back was toward them, and she was announcing to James T. Duncan and Miss Proudfoot, with whom she was playing three-handed Five Hundred, “Well, I’ll just bid seven on hearts if you’re going to get so set up.” She glanced back, nodded, said, “Come in, children,” picked up the “widow,” and discarded with quick twitches82 of the cards. The frightened Mr. Wrenn, feeling like a shipwrecked land-lubber, compared this gaming smoking woman unfavorably with the intense respectability of his dear lost patron, Mrs. Zapp. He sat uneasy till the hand of cards was finished, feeling as though they were only tolerating him. And Nelly Croubel was nowhere in sight.
Suddenly said Mrs. Arty, “And now you would like to look at that room, Mr. Wrenn, unless I’m wrong.”
“Why — uh — yes, I guess I would like to.”
“Come with me, child,” she said, in pretended severity. “Tom, you take my hand in the game, and don’t let me hear you’ve been bidding ten on no suit without the joker.” She led Mr. Wrenn to the settee hat-rack in the hall. “The third-floor-back will be vacant in two weeks, Mr. Wrenn. We can go up and look at it now if you’d like to. The man who has it now works nights — he’s some kind of a head waiter at Rector’s, or something like that, and he’s out till three or four. Come.”
When he saw that third-floor-back, the room that the smart people at Mrs. Arty’s were really willing to let him have, he felt like a man just engaged. It was all in soft green — grass-green matting, pale-green walls, chairs of white wicker with green cushions; the bed, a couch with a denim83 cover and four sofa pillows. It gave him the impression of being a guest on Fifth Avenue.
“It’s kind of a plain room,” Mrs. Arty said, doubtfully. “The furniture is kind of plain. But my head-waiter man — it was furnished for a friend of his — he says he likes it better than any other room in the house. It is comfortable, and you get lots of sunlight and —”
“I’ll take — How much is it, please, with board?”
She spoke47 with a take-it-or-leave-it defiance84. “Eleven-fifty a week.”
It was a terrible extravagance; much like marrying a sick woman on a salary of ten a week, he reflected; nine-teen minus eleven-fifty left him only seven-fifty for clothes and savings85 and things and — but —” I’ll take it,” he said, hastily. He was frightened at himself, but glad, very glad. He was to live in this heaven; he was going to be away from that Zapp woman; and Nelly Croubel — Was she engaged to some man? he wondered.
Mrs. Arty was saying: “First, I want to ask you some questions, though. Please sit down.” As she creaked into one of the wicker chairs she suddenly changed from the cigarette-rolling chaffing card-player to a woman dignified, reserved, commanding. “Mr. Wrenn, you see, Miss Proudfoot and Miss Croubel are on this floor. Miss Proudfoot can take care of herself, all right, but Nelly is such a trusting little thing — She’s like my daughter. She’s the only one I’ve ever given a reduced rate to — and I swore I never would to anybody! . . . Do you — uh — drink — drink much, I mean?”
Nelly on this floor! Near him! Now! He had to have this room. He forced himself to speak directly.
“I know how you mean, Mrs. Ferrard. No, I don’t drink much of any — hardly at all; just a glass of beer now and then; sometimes I don’t even touch that a week at a time. And I don’t gamble and — and I do try to keep — er — straight — and all that sort of thing.”
“That’s good.”
“I work for the Souvenir and Art Novelty Company on Twenty-eighth Street. If you want to call them up I guess the manager’ll give me a pretty good recommend.”
“I don’t believe I’ll need it, Mr. Wrenn. It’s my business to find out what sort of animiles men are by just talking to them.” She rose, smiled, plumped out her hand. “You will be nice to Nelly, won’t you! I’m going to fire that Teddem out — don’t tell him, but I am — because he gets too fresh with her.”
“Yes!”
She suddenly broke into laughter, and ejaculated: “Say, that was hard work! Don’t you hate to have to be serious? Let’s trot86 down, and I’ll make Tom or Duncan rush us a growler of beer to welcome you to our midst. . . . I’ll bet your socks aren’t darned properly. I’m going to sneak66 in and take a look at them, once I get you caged up here. . . . But I won’t read your love-letters! Now let’s go down by the fire, where it’s comfy.”
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1
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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landladies
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| n.女房东，女店主，女地主( landlady的名词复数 ) | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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spats
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| n.口角( spat的名词复数 )；小争吵；鞋罩；鞋套v.spit的过去式和过去分词( spat的第三人称单数 )；口角；小争吵；鞋罩 | |
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ghetto
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| n.少数民族聚居区，贫民区 | |
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grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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urbane
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| adj.温文尔雅的，懂礼的 | |
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briskness
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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brilliance
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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lank
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kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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ragtime
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| n.拉格泰姆音乐 | |
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smirk
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| n.得意地笑；v.傻笑；假笑着说 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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44
esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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45
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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46
amateurish
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| n.业余爱好的，不熟练的 | |
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spoke
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| 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 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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49
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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51
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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52
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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53
ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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54
gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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55
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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56
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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57
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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mimicked
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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glowering
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| v.怒视( glower的现在分词 ) | |
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65
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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68
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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73
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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74
penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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75
trespass
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| n./v.侵犯，闯入私人领地 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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butted
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| 对接的 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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agitatedly
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| 动摇，兴奋； 勃然 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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twitches
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| n.（使）抽动， （使）颤动， （使）抽搐( twitch的名词复数 ) | |
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83
denim
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| n.斜纹棉布；斜纹棉布裤，牛仔裤 | |
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84
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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85
savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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86
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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