It was rather by way of an experiment that I determined2 to try the effect of irony3 upon the members of the Night Club. I confess I was curious as to how it would strike Bindle, remembering that remarkable4 definition of irony as "life reduced to an essence." The story had been told me by Old Archie, if he had another name none of us had ever heard it, who keeps a coffee-stall not far from Sloane Square. He was a rosy-faced little fellow, as nippy as a cat in spite of his seventy years, and as cheerful as a sparrow. He has seen life from many angles, and there has come to him during those three score years and ten a philosophy that seems based on the milk of human kindness.
Had he been gifted with a ready pen, he could have written a book that would have been valuable as well as interesting. "A man shows 'is 'eart an' a woman 'er soul round a coffee-stall," was one of his phrases that has clung to my memory. "Lord bless you, sir," he said on another occasion, "there's good an' bad in everyone. Even in a rotten apple the pips is all right."
I chose a night for Old Archie's story when I knew there would be a full attendance, and without anything in the nature of an introduction began the tale as he had told it to me.
In arriving at a determination to marry, Robert Tidmarsh, as in all things, had been deliberate. It was an act, he told himself, that he owed to the success he had achieved. From the time when he lived with his parents in a depressing tenement5 house in Boulger Street, Barnsbury, Robert Tidmarsh had been preoccupied6 with his career. It had become the great fetish of his imagination.
In childhood it had brought down upon him scorn and ridicule7. Studious habits were not popular in Boulger Street; but Robert remained resolute8 in his pursuit of success. He saw that in time the star of his destiny would take him far from Boulger Street—it had. At the age of thirty-eight he was head clerk to Messrs. Middleton, Ratchett & Dolby, Solicitors10, of 83 Austin Friars, E.C., wore a silk hat and frock-coat, lived at Streatham, drew a salary of two hundred and thirty pounds a year and had quite a considerable sum in the bank. Boulger Street had been left far behind.
In its way Boulger Street was proud of him; it had seen him mount the ladder step by step. It had made him, nourished him, neglected him, ridiculed11 him, and later, with the servility of a success-loving plebeian12, it respected and worshipped him. He remained its standard by which to measure failure. The one thing it did not do was to imitate him.
Robert saw that, economically, the way was clear before him. His career demanded the sacrifice; for somehow he could never quite rid his mind of the idea that marriage was a sacrifice. Such considerations belonged, however, to a much earlier stage of his reasoning. Whatever he had to resign was laid upon the altar of ambition. If destiny demanded sacrifice, he would tender it without hesitation13, without complaint.
As he had climbed the ladder of success, Robert found to his surprise that his horizon was enlarging; but he was not deceived into the belief that it would continue to expand to infinity14. Being something of a philosopher, he knew that there must be limitations. In a vague, indeterminate way he was conscious that he lacked some quality necessary to his continued progression. He could not have put it into words; but he was conscious that there was something holding him back.
Could he at twenty-one have started where he was at thirty-eight, there might have been a prospect15 of achieving greatness for the house of Tidmarsh. This he now knew to be impossible, and he wasted no time in vain regrets. His reason told him that, but for some curious shuffling16 of the cards, he was unlikely to rise much higher. "But should twenty-six years of work and sacrifice be allowed to pass for nothing?" He could not himself climb much higher, but if a son of his were to start from the social and intellectual rung whereon he now stood, there would be a saving of twenty-six years. Then again, his son would have the advantage of his father's culture, position, experience. Slowly the truth dawned upon him; he was destined18 to play Philip to his son's Alexander. From the moment that Robert Tidmarsh reached this conclusion marriage became inevitable19.
For weeks he pondered on the new prospect he saw opening out before him. He was pleased with its novelty. The weakness of the reasoning that a son starts from where his father stands did not appear to strike him. With a new interest and energy he walked through miles of streets adorned20 with the latest architectural achievements in red brick and stucco. It was characteristic of him that he had fixed21 upon the avenue that was to receive him, long before his mind turned to the serious problem of finding a suitable partner in his enterprise.
Robert Tidmarsh's views upon women were nebulous. Hitherto girls had been permitted to play no part in his life. He had studiously avoided them. A young man, he had told himself, could not very well nurture22 a career and nourish a wife at the same time. He was not a woman-hater; he was merely indifferent; the hour had not struck.
For weeks he deliberated upon the kind of wife most likely to further his ends. His first thought had been of a woman of culture, a few years younger than himself. But would the cultures war with one another? The risk was great, too great. He accordingly decided23 that youth and health were to be the sole requisites24 in the future Mrs. Tidmarsh.
At this period Robert began to speculate upon his powers of attraction. He would seek to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirrors he passed in the street. He saw a rather sedate25, dark-haired man of medium height, with nondescript features and a small black moustache. In a vague way he knew that he was colourless: he lacked half-tones, atmosphere. He studied other men, strove to catch their idiom and inflection, to imitate their bearing and the angle at which they wore their hats. He began to look at women, mentally selecting and rejecting. One night he spoke26 to a girl in Hyde Park, but he found conversation so difficult that, with a muttered apology about catching27 a train and a lifting of his hat, he fled. As he hurried away he heard the girl's opinion of him compressed into one word as she turned on her heel, midst a swirl28 of petticoats, to seek more congenial company. That night he found his philosophy a poor defence against his sensitiveness.
Robert Tidmarsh would have turned away in horror from the suggestion that he depended upon a casual meeting with some girl in Hyde Park to furnish him with a wife. This was intended to be merely an adventure preliminary to the real business of selection. He did not know what to talk about to women, and the knowledge troubled him. When the time came he found, as other men have found, an excellent subject ready to hand—himself.
Robert may be said to have entered seriously upon his quest when he joined a dancing-class, a tennis-club and learned to manage a punt. He afterwards saw that any one of these recreations would have supplied him with all the material he could possibly require. Eventually his choice fell upon Eva Thompson, the daughter of a Tulse Hill chemist. She was pretty, bright, and to all appearance, strong and healthy. He was introduced to the parents, who were much impressed with their potential son-in-law.
Mrs. Thompson was subjected to a dexterous29 cross-examination, the subtlety30 of which in no way deceived that astute31 lady. Accordingly the result was satisfactory to both parties. Eva herself at twenty-two had all the instincts of a February sparrow. To mate well she had been taught was the end and aim of a girl's life, a successful marriage, that is from the worldly point of view, its crown of wild olive. To Robert, however, marriage was the first step towards founding a family. Risks there were, he saw this clearly, but where human forethought could remove them they should be removed.
One of the secrets of Robert's success had been a singleness of purpose that had enabled him to pursue his own way in spite of opposing factors. He was always quietly resolute. It was not so much by his perseverance32 that he achieved his ends, as by the care which he bestowed33 upon each detail of his schemes. As in his career, so with his marriage, in itself a part of the scheme of his life. Too astute to be convinced by a mother's prejudiced evidence, or by his own unskilled judgment35, he determined to have expert opinion as to Eva's fitness to become the mother of an Alexander. A slight chill the girl had contracted gave him his opportunity. During an evening walk, he took her to his own doctor, who had previously36 received instructions. Such a thing did not appear to him as callous37; he was not marrying for romance, but for a definite and calculated purpose.
To some men marriage is a romance, to others a haven38 of refuge from rapacious39 landladies40; but to Robert Tidmarsh it was something between a hobby and a career. He asked but one thing from the bargain, and received far more than he would have thought any man justified41 in expecting. From the hour that he signed the register in the vestry, the training of his son commenced.
Among other things, Robert's reading had taught him that a child's education does not necessarily begin with its birth. Accordingly he set himself to render his bride happy. There was a deep strain of wisdom in this man's mind, which no amount of undigested philosophical42 reading could quite blot43 out. He saw the necessity of moulding his wife's unformed character; and he decided that first he must render her happy. He took her to the theatre, with supper at a cheap restaurant afterwards, followed by the inevitable scurry44 to catch the last train. Occasionally there were week-ends in the country, or by the sea. In short the model son of one suburb became the model husband of another.
Months passed and Robert's anxiety increased. As the critical period approached he became a prey45 to neurasthenia. He lost his appetite, started at every sound, was incoherent in his speech, and slept so ill as to be almost unfit for the day's work.
There is one night that Robert Tidmarsh will never forget. For two hours he paced Schubert Avenue from end to end, his mind fixed on what was happening in the front bedroom of Eureka Lodge46. The biting East wind he did not feel. He was above atmospheric47 temperatures. His life's work, he felt, was about to be crowned or——he would not permit himself to give even a moment's thought to the alternative. The suspense48 was maddening. As he paced the Avenue he strove to think coherently. He strove to compare his own childhood with that which should be the lot of his son. Coherent thought he found impossible. Everything in his mind was chaotic49. Had he really any mind at all? Would he lose his reason entirely50? Then he fell to wondering what they would do with him if he went mad?
He had got to this point, and had just turned round, when he saw that the front door of Eureka Lodge was open and a woman's figure standing51 out against the light. With a thumping52 heart, Robert ran the fifty yards that separated him from the silhouetted53 figure as he had not run since boyhood. What could it mean—a mishap54? As he stopped at the gate, his trembling fingers fumbling55 with the latch56, he heard a voice that seemed to come from no-where telling him that his ambition had been realised. For the first time in his manhood he felt the tears streaming down his face as he clutched at the gate-post sobbing57. Fortunately the woman had fled back to her post, and he was spared what to him would have appeared an intolerable humiliation58.
During the days immediately following that night of torture, Robert felt that his life was to be crowned indeed. Hitherto the great moment of his career had been when he was called into Mr. Middleton's room, and, in the presence of the other partners, told that he was to be promoted to the position of chief clerk. Now a greater had arrived, and from that hour, when a son was born to the ambitious and self-made solicitor9's clerk, his life became one series of great moments.
Robert Tidmarsh early found the rearing of a man child productive of grave anxieties. The slightest deviation59 from what he considered to be the normal condition of infants produced in him a frenzy60 of alarm. His forethought had provided books upon the rearing of infants. He consulted them and his fears increased. Convulsions held for him a subtle and petrifying61 horror. A more than usually robust62 exhibition of crying on the part of Hector Roland (as the child was christened) invariably produced in his father's mind dismal63 forebodings. In time, however, he became more controlled, and the arrival of the customary period of measles64, whooping-cough, scarlet-fever and other childish ailments65 found him composed if anxious.
But nervous solicitude66 for the boy's health did not in the least interfere67 with the father's dominant68 preoccupation. The question of education was never wholly absent from his thoughts. With so pronounced a tendency to narrowness, it was strange to find with what wisdom and foresight69 he entered upon his task. As if by instinct he saw that influence alone could achieve his object. He would form no plan, he would guide, not direct his son's genius. Above all he would not commit the supreme70 indiscretion of taking anyone into his confidence. Sometimes he was tempted71 to tell Eva of his ambition, he yearned72 for sympathy in his great undertaking73, but he always triumphed over this weakness.
Eva was a little puzzled at his solicitude about her health, and the frequent cross-questionings to which she was subjected as to what she ate and drank; but woman-like she saw in this only evidence of his devotion. He talked often of children whose lives had been imperilled by injudicious indulgence on the part of their mothers. When the time came for the child to be fed by hand, Robert made the most careful enquiries of the doctor and his father-in-law as to the best and most nutritious74 infant foods. The result of all this was that the child showed every tendency to become a fine healthy young animal.
But in the care of the body, Robert Tidmarsh by no means neglected the budding mind of his infant son. When the period of toys and picture-books arrived, the same careful discrimination was shown. The old fairy stories, with well-printed illustrations, diverted the young Hector's mind just as the best foods nourished his body. When he tired of literature there were cheap mechanical toys, bought in the hope of stimulating75 the germ of enquiry as it should manifest itself. People shook their heads and thought such extravagance unwarranted; but Robert smiled. They did not share his secret.
As the years passed and Hector grew up into a sturdy youngster, his father watched furtively76 for some sign as to the direction that his genius was to take; but Hector, as if desirous of preserving to himself the precious knowledge, refused to evidence any particular tendency beyond a healthy appetite, a robust frame and a general enjoyment77 of life.
With the selection of Hector's first school, an affair productive of acute anxiety and many misgivings78, commenced the education proper of the man-to-be. The first official report, so eagerly awaited, was noncommittal; the second proved little better, and the third seemed to indicate that Hector was by no means an assiduous student. If the boy evinced no marked tendency towards the acquirement of book-learning, he showed an unmistakable liking79 for out-door sports and stories of adventure. He was encouraged to read the works of "healthy" writers such as Kingston and Ballantyne, strongly recommended by the book-seller who had charge of Robert Tidmarsh's literary conscience. In the winter evenings the boy would pore over the thrilling adventures of the heroes with an attention that did not fail to arouse his father's hopes.
The first tragedy between this Philip and Alexander was the discovery, in the pocket of the younger, of a copy of The Firebrand of the Pacific; or The Pirate's Oath, a highly-coloured account of doings of a particularly sanguinary cut-throat. On this occasion Robert Tidmarsh showed something almost akin1 to genius. He took the book and deliberately80 read it from cover to cover, subsequently returning it without comment to his nervously-expectant son. The next evening he brought home a copy of The Treasure Island, recommended by the bookseller as the finest boy's book ever written, and without a word gave it to Hector. After dinner, the Tidmarshes always "dined," Hector dutifully commenced to read. At nine o'clock his mother's reminder81 that it was bed-time was received with a pleading look and an appeal for another five minutes, to which Robert signified assent82. At ten o'clock Hector reluctantly said good-night and went to bed. At five the next morning he was again with John Silver. By six o'clock in the afternoon the book was finished and Hector was at the station to meet his father. As they walked home Robert felt a crumpled83 paper thrust into his hand. It was The Firebrand of the Pacific. Robert has never been able to determine if this was not after all the moment of his life.
At the age of ten Hector was placed at a school of some repute in the South West of London, and three months later at the Annual Sports won the Junior Hundred Yards and Junior Quarter of a Mile scratch. Robert was pleased when he heard of the achievement, but he was no Greek, and the winning of the parsley wreath was not what he had in mind for his son; still it was gratifying to see the boy outshine his fellows.
Hector showed an ever-increasing love of outdoor sports. Cricket, football, running, jumping—nothing came amiss to him. His father watched in vain for some glimmerings of the genius that his imagination told him would develop sooner or later. His hope had been that, by means of scholarships, his son might reach Oxford84 or Cambridge, for he had all the middle-class exaggerated opinion of the advantages of a University education. He saw him a senior wrangler85, he saw his photograph in the papers, heard himself interviewed as to his son's early life and pursuits. From these dreams he would awaken86 to renewed exertions87; but always with the same lack of success.
Unfortunately perhaps for both, Robert Tidmarsh saw little in his son's successes. Athletics88 were with him incidents in a career, incapable89 of being glorified90 into achievements. To him a judge was not a judge because he had won his blue, but rather in spite of it. He could not very well expostulate. No man, as Robert clearly saw, has a right to rebuke91 a son for failing to realise his father's ambitions for him. For one thing, he had no very clear idea himself what those ambitions were. All he was conscious of was a feeling that in some way or other Hector Tidmarsh was to carry on the torch that he, Robert Tidmarsh, had lighted. He was to achieve fame in some channel of life; but it must be a material fame, one that would make him a celebrity92. It never occurred to Tidmarsh père that a man capable of making a century at cricket, or being the best centre-forward in the district, could be worthy93 of a place among a nation's contemporary worthies94.
At sixteen Hector left school, regretted by masters and scholars alike, for his was a nature that commanded liking. By the influence of Mr. Ratchett, who had always been particularly partial to his chief clerk and, as an old Oxford cricket blue, was much interested in his clerk's son, Hector was articled to a solicitor. In a flash Robert Tidmarsh saw the possibility of his cherished dream being realised. He recalled instances of young men who had achieved fame in the field and subsequently become successful in the more serious walks of life. He watched the boy closely, talked to him of law, encouraged him to study, pointed95 out the greatness of this golden opportunity. But in vain, the boy's heart was in sport, not in law.
Sometimes in introspective moments the father examined himself as to how he had filled the role of Philip. Had he failed? Was he the cause? Could he have prevented what now appeared highly probable, the fluttering to earth of his house of cards? He had never been harsh, had he erred96 by being over lenient97?
As he watched Hector, it slowly dawned upon him that for the first time in his life he was about to experience failure. His son was doomed98 to be lost in the flood of the commonplace, would be respectable, comfortably off, live at Streatham or Balham; but could never become famous. When this conviction became fixed in Robert Tidmarsh's mind, he grew gloomy and depressed99. The dice34 had gone against him. It was fate. It is only a long line of ancestors that enables a man to play a losing game. The Tidmarsh blood lacked that tenacity100 and fire that comes with tradition. It remained only to wait and hope and speculate from what quarter the blow would fall.
At nineteen Hector received an invitation to play for the Surrey Colts. He "came off," making a dashing fifty. Mr. Rachett was there to shake the young giant warmly by the hand as he returned to the pavilion, but not his chief clerk. In the heart of the disappointed father there was a dull resentment101 against sport in general. He saw in it a siren who had bewitched his son, and diverted him from the path he should have trod. His secret was hard to keep. He needed sympathy, someone to tell him that he had done a great deal if not so much as he had anticipated.
One October morning the moment of final dis-illusionment arrived. When he came down to breakfast Hector was waiting in the dining-room with a copy of The Sportsman, which he handed to his father, at the same time pointing to a long description of a football match between two well-known league clubs; it was headed "A Man of Genius," and ran:
"The outstanding feature of the game was the marvellous display of the young amateur, Mr. Hector Tidmarsh, who was given a trial at centre forward in the home team. His pace, his subtlety, his bustling102 methods stamped him as a great centre-forward. The way he kept his wings together was a revelation. Time after time the quintette raced away as if opposition103 did not exist. The young amateur seemed to have hypnotised his professional confrères. His shooting was equal to his feinting, and his forward-passing such as has not been seen for many a day. In short he is the greatest find of the season, or of many seasons for that matter. The directors of the —— Club are to be congratulated in having discovered a man of genius."
Robert Tidmarsh put down the paper and looked at his son; but happily bereft104 at the Comic Spirit, he merely articulated some commonplace words of congratulation. That morning two disappointed men commenced their breakfasts, the father realising that his cherished ideal had finally been shattered; the son depressed because a carefully planned surprise had been productive of only a few colourless words, and upon them both smiled a proud wife and happy mother, to whom fame for those she loved, be it in what form it may, was a great and glorious gift to be welcomed with laughter and with tears.
I lay aside the manuscript and proceeded to light a cigarette. As a rule at the end of a reading there is a babel of comment. To-night there was an unusual silence. I looked round the room. There was a far-away look in Sallie's eyes, which seemed unusually bright. Dick Little was gazing straight in front of him, Bindle was recharging his pipe with great deliberation and care. The Boy was lost in the contemplation of his finger nails.
"Silly ass17!"
It was Angell Herald105 who had broken the silence, and snapped the thread. All eyes turned in his direction. Bindle, who was just in the act of lighting106 his pipe, paused and gazed curiously107 at Angell Herald over the flame of the match, then he turned to me and I saw that he understood.
It was Windover, however, who expressed the opinion of the Club upon Angell Herald's comment, when he muttered loud enough for all to hear:
"Oh! for the jawbone of an ass!"
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
akin
|
|
| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
tenement
|
|
| n.公寓；房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
preoccupied
|
|
| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
solicitor
|
|
| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
solicitors
|
|
| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
ridiculed
|
|
| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
plebeian
|
|
| adj.粗俗的；平民的；n.平民；庶民 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
infinity
|
|
| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
shuffling
|
|
| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
nurture
|
|
| n.养育，照顾，教育；滋养，营养品；vt.养育，给与营养物，教养，扶持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
requisites
|
|
| n.必要的事物( requisite的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
sedate
|
|
| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
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： |
|
|
|
|
27
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
swirl
|
|
| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
dexterous
|
|
| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
subtlety
|
|
| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
astute
|
|
| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
perseverance
|
|
| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
dice
|
|
| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
callous
|
|
| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
haven
|
|
| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
rapacious
|
|
| adj.贪婪的，强夺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
landladies
|
|
| n.女房东，女店主，女地主( landlady的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
philosophical
|
|
| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
blot
|
|
| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
scurry
|
|
| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
atmospheric
|
|
| adj.大气的，空气的；大气层的；大气所引起的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
chaotic
|
|
| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
thumping
|
|
| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
silhouetted
|
|
| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
mishap
|
|
| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
fumbling
|
|
| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
latch
|
|
| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
humiliation
|
|
| n.羞辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
deviation
|
|
| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
petrifying
|
|
| v.吓呆，使麻木( petrify的现在分词 )；使吓呆，使惊呆；僵化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
robust
|
|
| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
measles
|
|
| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
ailments
|
|
| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
solicitude
|
|
| n.焦虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
dominant
|
|
| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
foresight
|
|
| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
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： |
|
|
|
|
72
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
nutritious
|
|
| adj.有营养的，营养价值高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
stimulating
|
|
| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
furtively
|
|
| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
misgivings
|
|
| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
reminder
|
|
| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
assent
|
|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
crumpled
|
|
| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
wrangler
|
|
| n.口角者，争论者；牧马者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
awaken
|
|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
exertions
|
|
| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
athletics
|
|
| n.运动，体育，田径运动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
glorified
|
|
| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
rebuke
|
|
| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
celebrity
|
|
| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
worthies
|
|
| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
erred
|
|
| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
lenient
|
|
| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
tenacity
|
|
| n.坚韧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
bustling
|
|
| adj.喧闹的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
bereft
|
|
| adj.被剥夺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
herald
|
|
| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
lighting
|
|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |