She led me by the hand to look again at the ropes and the sailors, and tumble down and scramble4 up the companion-stairs, while Sister Clare groaned5 and prayed in her cabin. Indeed, I may say that I had forgotten all about my[Pg 121] veiled jailor, and, my tears once dried, prattled6 delightedly to this pretty sympathetic creature, whose lovely furs and wide hat of black plumes7 and black velvet8 made of her a princess of fairyland. Then when the caprices of the sea distressed9 us in our wanderings, I fell asleep in her lap, luxurious10 and happy, being quite at rest now about the sharks, since my new friend had patiently assured me there was nothing to fear from them.
I can now imagine what a quaint11 picture this motherly young lady, with the softly folding arms and the humid dusky glance, that was in itself the sweetest of caresses12, may have made afterwards of our friendship, the tenderness with which she would sketch13 my portrait and repeat my childish confidences, the pity and indignation with which my forlornness must have filled her. A child with a home, a mother, a family, cast adrift on a grey winter's sea! Travelling from one land to another, like a valueless packet given in charge to a stranger!
I hardly remember our parting. It was late, and I was dreaming, heaven knows of what,—of the chocolate drops she had given me, or of the dear little trays of apples Bessy the applewoman sold down at Kildare. Hard arms [Pg 122]securely caught me, and whisked me out of my delicious nest. Instead of warm fur against my cheek, I felt a blast of black-grey air, and with a howl of dismay I found myself blinking in the noisy glitter of a big station. The lady bent14 her charming head out of the window, smiling sadly at me from under the heavy shadow of her velvet plumed15 hat. I felt that she parted from me reluctantly, and knew that she had given me a passing shelter in her kind heart.
The night outside seemed bitterly cold without her protecting tenderness, and I made a stoic16 effort to swallow my tears, and let myself be dragged ferociously18 by Sister Clare, for whom I was merely baggage, to the Birmingham train. As for impressions, these were stationary19, not going beyond the voice and furs of my new friend, and I was far too sorry and sleepy and weary to note anything fresh.
Lysterby, I have since been informed, is an ugly little town; but in those remote, uncritical days it appeared to me the centre of loveliness. Flowers are rare in Ireland, and here roses, red and white, grew wild and luxuriant along the lanes. But to an imaginative and romantic child, a place so peopled with legend and gay and tragic20 historical figures could not fail to be[Pg 123] beautiful. In one of the common streets you looked up and saw the painted bust21 of a medieval knave22, craning his ruffianly neck out of a window-frame, and the fellow, you were told, answered to the name of Peeping Tom. Instantly the street ceased to be real, and you were pitched pell-mell into the heart of romance.
I have not seen the place since childhood; but it remains23 in memory blotted24, fragmentary, picturesque25, an old-fashioned little town, with spired26 churches, rough, clean little streets, rare passers-by, never so hurried that the double file from the Ivies27, under the guard of the austere28 ladies of Mercy, did not attract their attention, and sometimes with discomposing emphasis, as when the little street blackguards would shout after us:—
"Catholics, Catholics, quack29, quack, quack,
Go to the devil and never come back!"
I remember the Craven Arms, a medieval inn all hung with roses and ivy30, where my parents stayed when they came to see me, and where my sister and I slept in a long low-beamed chamber31, with windows made of a surprising pattern of tiny diamond squares and green lattices that excited our enthusiastic admiration32. I remember the bowling-green, that appeared to roll like[Pg 124] a sea straight to the sky, and the long, long roads with fields on either side, and the great historic ruin that has given its name to one of Scott's novels.
To me it is impossible to recall the leafy lanes, rose-scented; the narrow pavements and sleepy little shops; the great pageant33, when the town's legend became for thrilled infants an afternoon of fugitive34 and barbaric splendour,—without evoking35 vague scenes from history, and marshalling before the mind's eye brilliant and memorable36 figures. Dull enough, I have no doubt, for those outside the convent walls, who had to live its dull life: no discord37 between the outlying farmsteads and the scarcely competitive shops; the time of day not too eagerly noted38, in spite of the fame of its watches; and the vociferations of the newsvendors a thing unknown. But sectarian spirit ran pretty high, if I remember rightly, and Lysterby was represented in Parliament by a fierce anti-Catholic, whose dream, we imagined, it was to hang all Jesuits and deport39 the nuns40. His name was whispered within the convent walls in awed41 undertones, as a pagan persecutor42 may have been spoken of in the Catacombs by the early Christians43. But except the veiled ladies, [Pg 125]romantically conscious of the proximity44 of persecution45, with the joy of a name to pronounce in shuddering46 alarm, all Lysterby was at peace, and free to go to bed with the lambs, with nothing to disturb it in its morning dreams less melodious47 than the lark's song. Private wars were of the usual anodyne48 and eternal character: Smith the baker49 not on speaking terms with Jones the butcher; Grubb the weaver50, in embittered51 monotony of conviction, supported on unlimited52 quantities of beer, ready to assert every evening that Collins the miller53, who lived on the other side of the common, was a scoundrel.
Of the troubles outside we little ones had no time to think. Our troubles within were abundant and absorbing, and no less absorbing and abundant were our small joys. There were ten of us only—ten queer, curious little girls; and one ragged17 specimen54 of the trousered sex—a horrid55 small boy, the scion56 of a distinguished57 house, whom the ladies of Mercy kept, long past the time, quaintly58 apparelled in black frocks and white pinafores, as an injudicious concession59 to claustral modesty60. A boy of eight in skirts, with long brown curls upon his shoulders!
To suit his raiment, nature made him the[Pg 126] greatest little coward and minx of the lot of us. Beside him I felt myself a brave, a gentleman, a hero of adventure. He had all the vices61 I intuitively abhorred62. He was spiteful, a tell-tale, an ignoble63 whiner64; and before I was a month at the Ivies I was for him "that nasty little Irish girl," whose fine furies terrified the wits out of his mean little body, whose frank boxes on a rascally65 small ear sent him into floods of tears, and whose masterly system of open persecution kept him ever in alarm, ever on the race to Sister This or Mother That. How we loathed66 that boy Frank!
On the other hand, I was speedily as popular as a creature of legend—not by reason of my virtues68, which, by a rare modesty, kept themselves concealed70, but because of my high spirits, untamable once let loose; my imagination, which incessantly71 devised fresh shudders72 for these timid and unimaginative children; my prodigality73 in invention, and my general insubordination.
The cowed and suffering baby of Ireland on Saxon shores at once revealed the Irish rebel, the instinctive74 enemy of law and order. I was commander-in-chief in revolt, with a most surprising gift of the gab1; a satanic impulse to hurl[Pg 127] my small weak self against authority on all occasions, and an abnormal capacity for flying out at every one with power to do me harm. Whatever may be said of the value of my courage, its quality even I the owner (who should be the last to recognise it!), must admit to be admirable. Alas75! it was a virtue69 ever persistently76 wasted then as now. While it never procured77 me a single stroke of happiness or fortune, it has boundlessly78 added to the miseries79 of an imprudent career.
The start in Lysterby ends my patient martyrdom. Here I became the active and abominable80 little fiend unkindness and ill-management made of one of the gentlest and most sensitive of natures. The farther I travelled the road of childhood the more settled became my conviction that grown-up humanity, which I gradually began to loath67 more than even I once had feared, was my general implacable enemy. I might have grown sly and slavish in this conviction; but I am glad to say that I took the opposite course. I may be said to have planted myself against a moral wall and furiously defied all the authorities of Church and State "to come on," hitting in blind recklessness out at every one, quite indifferent to blow and defeat.
Little Angela of Kildare and Dublin, over whose sorrows I have invited the sympathetic reader to weep, was a pallid81 and pathetic figure. But Angela of Lysterby held her own—more even than her own, for she fought for others as well as for herself, and gave back (with a great deal more trouble at least) as much pain and affliction as she endured.

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收听单词发音

1
gab
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v.空谈,唠叨,瞎扯;n.饶舌,多嘴,爱说话 | |
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2
Forsaken
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adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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varied
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adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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scramble
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v.爬行,攀爬,杂乱蔓延,碎片,片段,废料 | |
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5
groaned
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v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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6
prattled
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v.(小孩般)天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 );发出连续而无意义的声音;闲扯;东拉西扯 | |
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7
plumes
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羽毛( plume的名词复数 ); 羽毛饰; 羽毛状物; 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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8
velvet
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n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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distressed
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痛苦的 | |
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luxurious
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adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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11
quaint
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adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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12
caresses
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爱抚,抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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sketch
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n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
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bent
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n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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plumed
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饰有羽毛的 | |
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16
stoic
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n.坚忍克己之人,禁欲主义者 | |
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ragged
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adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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ferociously
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野蛮地,残忍地 | |
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19
stationary
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adj.固定的,静止不动的 | |
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tragic
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adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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21
bust
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vt.打破;vi.爆裂;n.半身像;胸部 | |
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22
knave
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n.流氓;(纸牌中的)杰克 | |
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remains
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n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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24
blotted
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涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
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picturesque
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adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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spired
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v.(教堂的) 塔尖,尖顶( spire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ivies
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常春藤( ivy的名词复数 ) | |
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28
austere
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adj.艰苦的;朴素的,朴实无华的;严峻的 | |
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29
quack
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n.庸医;江湖医生;冒充内行的人;骗子 | |
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30
ivy
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n.常青藤,常春藤 | |
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31
chamber
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n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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32
admiration
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n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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pageant
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n.壮观的游行;露天历史剧 | |
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fugitive
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adj.逃亡的,易逝的;n.逃犯,逃亡者 | |
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evoking
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产生,引起,唤起( evoke的现在分词 ) | |
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memorable
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adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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discord
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n.不和,意见不合,争论,(音乐)不和谐 | |
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noted
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adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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39
deport
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vt.驱逐出境 | |
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40
nuns
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n.(通常指基督教的)修女, (佛教的)尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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41
awed
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adj.充满敬畏的,表示敬畏的v.使敬畏,使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
persecutor
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n. 迫害者 | |
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43
Christians
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n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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proximity
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n.接近,邻近 | |
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45
persecution
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n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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46
shuddering
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v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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47
melodious
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adj.旋律美妙的,调子优美的,音乐性的 | |
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48
anodyne
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n.解除痛苦的东西,止痛剂 | |
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49
baker
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n.面包师 | |
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50
weaver
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n.织布工;编织者 | |
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51
embittered
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v.使怨恨,激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
unlimited
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adj.无限的,不受控制的,无条件的 | |
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53
miller
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n.磨坊主 | |
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54
specimen
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n.样本,标本 | |
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55
horrid
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adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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56
scion
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n.嫩芽,子孙 | |
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57
distinguished
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adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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58
quaintly
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adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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59
concession
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n.让步,妥协;特许(权) | |
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60
modesty
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n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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61
vices
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缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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62
abhorred
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v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 );(厌恶地)回避;拒绝;淘汰 | |
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63
ignoble
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adj.不光彩的,卑鄙的;可耻的 | |
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64
whiner
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n.哀鸣者,啜泣者,悲嗥者,哀诉者 | |
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65
rascally
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adj. 无赖的,恶棍的 adv. 无赖地,卑鄙地 | |
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66
loathed
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v.憎恨,厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 );极不喜欢 | |
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67
loath
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adj.不愿意的;勉强的 | |
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68
virtues
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美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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virtue
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n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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70
concealed
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a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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71
incessantly
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ad.不停地 | |
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72
shudders
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n.颤动,打颤,战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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73
prodigality
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n.浪费,挥霍 | |
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74
instinctive
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adj.(出于)本能的;直觉的;(出于)天性的 | |
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75
alas
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int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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persistently
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ad.坚持地;固执地 | |
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77
procured
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v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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78
boundlessly
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adv.无穷地,无限地 | |
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79
miseries
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n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 );痛苦的事;穷困;常发牢骚的人 | |
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80
abominable
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adj.可厌的,令人憎恶的 | |
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pallid
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adj.苍白的,呆板的 | |
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