Toward the end of the first week in February, Mr. Force cabled: "Everything smoothed out. Rejoice. Wife keen about K. Insists on having her with us over here. Send her over at once with Dufresne. Never was so happy in my life. Force."
The reply was: "Come and get her, but bring your wife with you. Bingle."
"I am not sure that I trust Force," said Mr. Bingle to his wife as they discussed the banker's message. "Like as not he wants to get the child over in Europe and leave her there with strangers until she grows up, or something of the sort. What proof have we that he has told his wife? How do we know that she is keen about Kathie? She never has been. As a matter of fact, she brags5 about her hatred6 for children. Openly says she despises 'em. Prefers her dogs and cats, and all such rubbish as that. No, sir, Mary; I don't pack Kathie off with a strange Frenchwoman, destined7 for heaven knows what, and that's all there is to it. The thing looks fishy8 to me. Maybe it's, a plot—a dark, cruel plot to get the child out of the country. If he wants me to believe that Mrs. Force is keen about Kathie, she'll have to say so herself, in so many words, and, blame me, Mary, I don't believe I'll let her say 'em by telegraph either."
"But he is the president of the bank, Thomas," said Mrs. Bingle, as if that were all that was necessary to put him above suspicion.
"I am not dealing9 with the president of the bank, my dear," said Mr. Bingle stiffly. "I am dealing with my next door neighbour, and I have a mighty10 poor opinion of him. The boy is waiting. I'll just write an answer to his cablegram and get it off at once."
The day after they landed in New York, Mr. and Mrs. Force paid a formal visit to the Bingle mansion11. They came out from town by motor, arriving at four in the afternoon. Mr. Bingle was expecting them. They had telephoned, saying they could stay but a short time and made it quite clear that it wouldn't be necessary to serve tea. They were staying in town for a few days before going on to Florida.
At five o'clock they motored swiftly away from Seawood. The ordeal12 was over. Kathleen was to go to Mr. and Mrs. Force. The wife of a "man called Hinman" was to mother the child of Agnes Glenn.
It was to be very simple and easy for the Forces; like their kind, they left the hard part of the bargain to Mr. Bingle. He was to tell Kathleen of the great change that was soon to take place in her life. He was to tell the happy, loving little girl that she was no longer to call him daddy, that she was to go and live with the man she feared and disliked. That was the part of the bargain left to the one who loved her best of all and who would not have given her an instant's pain for all the world. He was to deliver her, with scant13 excuse or explanation, into the hands of strangers—cold, unfeeling strangers. It would be the same as saying to the child that he did not care for her any longer, that he did not love her, that he was willing to give her up to Mr. Force without so much as a pang14 of regret. For he could NOT tell her the truth. She was never to know about the carbolic acid and the days of starvation. She was only to know that Mr. Force was to be her daddy from this time forward and that Mr. Bingle could never be anything more to her than Uncle Tom.
But after he told her, he cried…. Still, they were not to take her away until the end of the week, and that was five days off.
An unsuspected astuteness15 in the character of Thomas Singleton Bingle reveals itself in the declaration, now to be made for the first time in this present history of the man: he never allowed his wards16 to look upon themselves as his own children. They were taught to call him daddy and to look upon him as a substitute supplied by God to take the place of a real father, and by the same token Mrs. Bingle became mother to the brood, but they were safe-guarded against the surprise and shock of future revelations—revelations that so frequently spoil the lives of those who have lived in happy ignorance. Mr. Bingle, gentle soul that he was, had the heart to look ahead in this pleasant game of his. He saw the cruelty of a too loving deception17. He foresaw the desolating18 results of a too great faith in chance. So his children were taught to regard him in the light of a protector who was satisfied to have them feel that he was under obligations to them instead of the other way round. It was his joy to be called daddy, and in return for this simple tribute he lavished19 upon them all the love and tenderness of a true father and a great deal of the consideration that a child deserves, but seldom gets, from its own pre-occupied and self-satisfied parent.
Kathleen knew that she was not the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle. She had always known that she was the daughter of a Mr. and Mrs. Hinman, both deceased. In the case of Reginald—and, in a way, Harold also—there was some uncertainty20. As the former advanced in years and characteristics, it became more and more apparent to Mr. Bingle that his fifth-born was not of Italian descent, despite the fact that the authorities at the Foundlings' Home had him down on the records as the offspring of a Mr. and Mrs. Vanesi, lost in one of the factory fires in the city of Brooklyn. Mr. Bingle was convinced, as time went on, that the tags on certain infants had been accidentally misplaced by careless attendants, and that Reginald's nick-name, bestowed21 by Frederick and Wilberforce in their frivolous22 wisdom, was not so far out of the way as it might have seemed if he had not been possessed23 of his own vague misgivings24. They called him Abey. As for Harold, he was unmistakably Irish, although the hospital people declared that he was German to the core when Mr. and Mrs. Bingle went there to pick out a healthy Teuton to add to their collection. They were positive that they wanted a German baby; nothing else would do, they announced clearly and positively25 to the superintendent26 in charge of the maternity27 ward3. The superintendent was most gracious about it. She said they could return little Fritz if he didn't come up to the mark in every particular. What more could a German fancier desire than a child whose name alone stood for all that one could possibly seek in Teutonic research? Fritz Bumbleburg:—that was the infant's name and his father's name before him. Surely Mr. Bingle wouldn't demand anything more German than that. Moreover, Fritz's mother was German-American and she had been the wife of Fritz's father for a matter of five years or more. Still, in spite of all this, Fritz (re-christened Harold while he was still too young to raise a voice in protest) was unmistakably Irish, or at least part Irish. It is also worthy28 of note that Mrs. Bumbleburg ran away with an Irish policeman some weeks after the infant Fritz's advent29 into the world, which would go to show that the mother, at any rate, had Celtic inclinations30 if nothing more.
Kathleen took it very hard at first. She was inconsolable until the desperate Bingle began to dilate31 upon the wonders of Florida. Miss Fairweather was called in to corroborate32 all that they had to say about the gorgeousness of that southern fairyland, and as a group they did very well when one stops to consider that not one of them had ever been south of Washington, D. C. The child cheered up a bit. She began to take some interest in the matter of dress. Following that, she revealed considerable enthusiasm over the prospect33 of going south in a private car with a personal maid of her own, and could have a change of frock twice a day for a week at a stretch, to say nothing of being allowed to eat in the public dining-car if it pleased her to do so. That thing of eating in the dining-car was a master-stroke on the part of Bingle. It was the greatest inducement he could have offered to the child in support of the claim that she ought to be the happiest creature on earth, going away with Mr. and Mrs. Force like this.
Frederick and Wilberforce openly declared—in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Bingle—that you bet they'd go in a minute if they had the chance to see the land where Melissa's pirates and smugglers did most of their plundering—an attitude that created an unhappy half-hour for Melissa later on in the day. Any one else but Melissa would have received her walking-papers.
The frocks, the personal maid, the prospect of the dining-car and the assurance that it wouldn't be necessary to call Mr. Force "daddy" until she became a little more accustomed to seeing him around, brought Kathleen to a proper way of thinking. She became quite eager to go!
"Well," said Mr. Bingle to his wife, after the storm, "I fancy we'd better make an appointment with Rouquin as soon as possible. I am really quite enthusiastic, my dear, over that idea of yours to have a cute little French baby. The sooner we get it the better, I say. It is going to be pretty lonesome for awhile. Somehow I hope we find one that cries a good deal. It would cheer us up considerably34, I'm sure, if we had something like that to annoy us, especially at night. We shall probably lie awake anyhow."
Frederick was causing them no little anxiety. The boy wasn't eating well. He was beginning to look a bit peaked. Dr. Fiddler was puzzled. He could not discover anything wrong, and yet could not account for the listlessness that had come over the lad during the past few weeks.
As a matter of fact, Frederick was in love—quite desperately35 in love. The object of his adoration36 was the beautiful Miss Fairweather. No doctor in the world could have properly diagnosed the youngster's case, for the simple reason that Frederick's disease was a perfectly37 healthy one, and when you confront a doctor with anything in the nature of health you stump38 him completely. He doesn't know what to do about it. Nevertheless, Dr. Fiddler—being a great man and entirely39 ignorant of Frederick's complaint—gave him castor oil.
Now this same Dr. Fiddler undoubtedly40 had been in love at the tender age of twelve. What man is there to-day who was not desperately afflicted41 at that age, and who is there among us that has forgotten the experience? Who is there among us, past the age of thirty, who cannot tell without an instant's hesitation42, the name of the mature young lady who first assailed43 his susceptibilities? Who can honestly say that he doesn't remember the school-teacher, or the choir-singer who taught the Sunday-school class, or the lady who came to visit mother and went away engaged to a friend of father's, or the nurse who queened it over the house when mother was ill and who devoted44 entirely too much time to the new baby? There is always one full-grown, lamentably45 old young lady in the life of every boy, and her name is imperishable. It is invariably MISS Somebody-or-other. No man can recall the Christian46 name of his first love for the very good reason that he never knew it. The universal lady is always MISS So-and-so. Even the most ardent47 of twelve-year-olds never forgets that his heart's desire is a lady whose years demand the most respectful consideration. Dr. Fiddler, having loved and lost, should have appreciated the tender passion that took away Frederick's appetite and made of him a melancholy48 sufferer. What Frederick needed was the moral support of a physician who would recommend and supply a quick and deadly poison with which Mr. Richard Flanders could be permanently49 squashed.
Melissa was his only friend and comforter. The children, and the servants who were not too busily engaged with their own affairs, openly scoffed50 at the love-sick young gentleman. Wilberforce sustained a bloody51 nose in retaliation52 and Watson, being a special offender53, met with a painful and unaccountable accident one day while passing between the kitchen and the milk-house. A full-sized brick dropped from heaven knows where—(it must have come from heaven judging by the way it felt)—and as Watson's hat happened to be directly in the path of its descent the unfortunate footman was unable to tease Frederick for the better part of two days immediately thereafter and had to have six stitches taken in his head besides. Oddly enough, the only place from which a brick was found to be missing was in the walk leading to the stables, and Butts55, being a thrifty56 soul, filled up the vacant spot with the heaven-sent substitute, having found on investigation57 that it fitted the vacuum perfectly. It was Melissa who kept Watson from taking out a warrant for young Master Frederick. She spoke58 very sharply to the damaged footman about something that had completely escaped the notice of Mr. Bingle, who, being no smoker59, wouldn't have missed them if Watson had taken a whole handful of cigars a day instead of two or three twice a week the year round.
The privileged maid had read love stories from the time she was ten years old up to the beginning of her affair with Diggs the butler. The pleasant discovery that the mighty Diggs had taken a shine to her quite destroyed all of her interest in romance as it is written. She was not long in finding out that the people who write love-stories are not to be depended upon for accuracy in the depiction60 of passion. Diggs gave her an entirely new idea of manly61 devotion. Instead of adhering to the well-known and well-preserved formulas set down by the fictionists he behaved in a perfectly astonishing manner. He became acutely bashful and apprehensive62, so much so, in fact, that for a while Melissa imagined that Mr. Bingle had given him notice because of the mistletoe episode on Christmas Eve. The poor fellow seemed to be dodging63 her all the time. And when she came upon him suddenly or unexpectedly he always began winding64 his watch and talking about the extraordinary resemblance she bore to a girl he had once known in England. The shock, therefore, was tremendous when Diggs asked her if she thought she could ever learn to care for him in THAT way. It was almost a week before Melissa could think of an answer to this astonishing question. It was "yes."
And so, having but recently suffered the surprise of her life, Melissa rushed to the succour of young Frederick. She whispered words of encouragement into the ear of the despairing youngster, and urged him to stand by his guns.
"You never can tell what is going to happen," she said. "Look at me, for instance. What could have been more miraculous65 than the thing that happened to me, Freddie? Who could have ever dreamed of Mr. Diggs falling in love with me? An important person like him falling heels over head in love with the likes of me! Can you beat it? Well, that's what I mean when I say you never can tell. You just keep a stiff upper lip, Freddie—and grow a little, of course—and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if you conquered the proud Miss Fairweather's haughty66 heart. Nothing—NOTHING on God's earth would surprise me now. Go in and win, Freddie. Of course, she is about twelve years older'n you are at present, but as time goes on she'll be getting younger. We always do. By the time you are thirty you will have caught up to her, I can tell you that. Take Mr. Diggs, for instance; he thinks I am only twenty-six. He says it's a crime for a man of his age—he's thirty-seven—to be making eyes at a soft young thing like me. He knows I'm only twenty-six, but what he don't know is that I was born nearly ten years before he even starts to counting. Now, in a very few years you will be twenty. Well, by that time she will be only eight years older than you are. You see, women don't put on years as rapidly as men. It's a peculiar67 trick of nature. I don't suppose there is another living creature in all God's dominion68 that lives as long as a woman does before it can get past thirty. Take Miss Stokes, the nurse, for instance. She's been nearly nine years going from twenty-seven to twenty-nine. So there you are. You just keep on growing up, Freddie—you needn't hurry, either—putting on a year every twelve months, and before you know it you'll be six months older than Miss Fairweather. Then—"
"Yes, but how about this big Flanders?" protested Frederick. "He's already grown-up and—"
"Nothing to it," said Melissa, "He hasn't got any money. He can't give her diamonds and fine raiment. He's got to ask her to wait till he's able to marry, hasn't he? Well, while she's about it, why shouldn't she wait for you? It all amounts to the same thing. You'll be able to marry her just as soon as he is. Now, don't be discouraged. Cheer up."
"You're awfully69 good, Melissa," said Frederick gloomily.
"And what's more, don't let 'em guy you about her. Mr. Diggs don't let any one guy him about me, you can bet. And say, if you can manage to sneak70 one of Mr. Bingle's razors out of his room some day, I'll shave you. There's nothing like getting your whiskers started early."
"Gee71, Melissa, will you?"
"Like a shot. Let me feel your chin. Why, I swear to goodness, there's something there already. It's—"
"Honest, Melissa? Do you really mean it? I thought it was only fuzz."
"Fuzz your granny," said Melissa stoutly72. "In a couple of months you could get a beard like a billy goat if you shaved regular."
"I don't want chin whiskers. I want a moustache."
"And in the meantime," went on Melissa with rare diplomacy73, "you may see some one else that you like better than Miss Fairweather. That very frequently happens to a fellow when he's busy trying to get a beard."
"Do you think she likes Mr. Flanders, Melissa?" A great deal depended on her answer. That was to be seen by the expression in his young blue eyes.
"Certainly," said she promptly74. "Everybody likes him. I like him. So does your ma and so does your pa. That's nothing to go by. Why, I'll bet you like him yourself. He's a fine fellow."
"Do you think he's very good looking?"
"In a way, yes," said Melissa, musingly75. "I shouldn't call him quite perfect, however."
"Do you think he's as good-looking as Diggs?"
"I used to think so, but—Now, that reminds me: if you ever say a word to anybody about Mr. Diggs and me being enamoured of each other, I'll have nothing more to do with you—not a thing, d'you understand? It's a secret. Your pa and ma are not to know about it until we get ready to announce our engagement."
"I'll never tell," promised the young lover.
"And here's another thing: Don't you ever let on to Mr. Diggs that I'm over twenty-six. If you do, I'll tell your pa that you're using his razor, and—well, say, that would be a mortification76 for you. Miss Fairweather would never get over laughing at you. Do you know, I'm awfully sorry for Mr. Flanders. He is a fine fellow, and it will break his heart if you get her away from him, Freddie. It seems too bad for a rich young gentleman like you to be pitted against a poor, struggling newspaper man whose heart is afire with—"
"Oh, gee, Melissa, don't talk like that," cried Frederick in distress77.
"I DO like him, and I don't want him to ever be unhappy."
"That's the way to talk," she cried warmly. "That's regular nobility. Let's give him an equal chance, Freddie. If he can win, all well and good. We'll take our medicine. If he loses, why he can take his."
"I wish I was as old as he is," mourned Frederick.
"Poor fellow," sighed Melissa, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. "I DO feel sorry for him. I hate to see a fine, honourable78 gentleman's heart busted80 as you are likely to bust79 his for—"
"Oh, goodness!" gulped81 Frederick, his soul filled with pity for the unfortunate Flanders. He suppressed a sniffle, and then, after a moment consumed in re-ordering his emotions, went on brightly: "Of course, if she loves him, Melissa, I shall be the first to wish him joy. That's the kind of fellow I am."
"I wonder," mused82 Melissa, "if that's the kind of a fellow he'd be if some other fellow won his lady love away from him in a fair contest?"
It so happened that Mr. Flanders placed a diamond-ring upon the third finger of Miss Fairweather's left hand that same afternoon, and it also happened that the starry-eyed young lady submitted to a tender embrace immediately afterward83. But a fortnight passed before Frederick, pale and wan4 with the anguish84 that lay in his young soul, could command the courage to go up to his big rival and wish him joy. For two weeks his heart had bled, for, be it also recorded, young Frederick happened to be lurking85 unseen in the library when the ring was passed. He saw the big man take the slim, adored princess in his arms, and he saw her face upturned to greet the lips that came down to meet her's in—Alas! Poor Frederick!
Right bravely he accosted86 Mr. Flanders one day as the brisk young man came swinging up the drive on his way from the railway station. Flanders usually came at three in the afternoon. This habit was known to Frederick. He also knew that the tall conqueror87 spent an hour with Mr. Bingle before Miss Fairweather descended88 from the school-room. In fact, every movement of Mr. Flanders from the instant he appeared on the estate to the moment he left it in a dash for the train, was known to the small victim of the green-eyed devil.
On this momentous89 occasion he resolutely90 laid in wait for Mr. Flanders near the lodge-gates. He had steeled himself against the bitterest moment in his life.
"Hello," he said, suddenly stepping out of the shrubbery and confronting the pedestrian, who brought himself up with a jerk.
"Hello," said Richard. "Getting the air?"
"I want to speak to you, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick, with immense gravity.
"Come along then, lad, because I'm in a rush. I have to catch the five-ten in to-day."
"I wish you wouldn't take such long steps." Flanders obligingly reduced his stride so that the boy was not forced to run to keep up with him. "I cut lessons, sir, to have a word with you. I just want to wish you good luck and joy, Mr. Flanders. You have won the heart and hand of the fairest lady in the land."
Flanders stopped in his tracks. "I say, youngster, that's—that's corking91 of you." He was blushing. "I had no idea that you children were on to us, so to speak. Thank you, Freddie."
"I have been on to you, Mr. Flanders, from the beginning. She is the loveliest lady—" he swallowed hard—"in the world, and I just wanted to tell you that if you don't treat her well I'll—I'll—well, you'll see."
Flanders was not smiling. He understood boys. He laid his big hand on the little fellow's sturdy shoulder and said, very seriously:
"I consider myself most fortunate, old chap, in having the advantage of you in years. If you were my own age, I should have stood small chance of winning the loveliest lady in the world. Shake hands, Freddie. I shall treat her well, my lad. If I fail in any particular I hope you'll take a shot at me on sight. I'm sorry, too, my boy."
"That's all right, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick bravely. "I bend the knee to a worthy rival, sir. I—I—" The words trailed off into indistinct murmurings, for he had completely forgotten the rest of the high-sounding sentences supplied for this very encounter by the helpful Melissa. She had written them out for him and he had learned them by heart. And now they failed him!
Flanders allowed his grip to tighten92 on the boy's shoulder. "You will get over it, Freddie. I had a similar affliction when I was your age. It was pretty rough, but I pulled through."
"I shall never love any one else, Mr. Flanders," said Frederick solemnly. "I shall never be untrue to her."
"Well, it's fine of you to take it in such a manly fashion, old chap. It's great. Not many fellows could have done what you've done. I'm sure I couldn't. It took grit93 to come out here and tell me this. Shake hands again, my boy. And I now promise that I shall keep her happy if it lies in the power of a human being to do so. You may depend upon it, Freddie."
"Thank you, Mr. Flanders. I have great confidence in you. I trust you. If you should ever require the support of a strong and willing henchman in time of dire54 trouble or conflict with merciless—merciless—" He stopped in distress. Once more Melissa's well-turned sentences went back on him. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the all-important noun.
"Scoundrels," supplied Mr. Flanders kindly94.
"No, that isn't the word," said Frederick, thinking hard. "Merciless—merciless—Oh, yes—renegades! If you should ever require the support of a strong and—"
"All right," cried Flanders. "I understand. I'll call on you, you may be sure."
"There was something more I wanted to say, but the—the words don't seem to come as they ought to."
"It's this beastly weather," said Flanders. "I never can think well in cold weather. I seem to freeze up."
Frederick was relieved. "I guess maybe that's it. When are you going to marry her?" The last was a genuine, unrehearsed inquiry95 and completely summed up the situation so far as he was concerned.
"It isn't quite settled. A great deal depends on circumstances."
"Money?"
"In a way, yes."
"What does she say about it? Is she willing to wait eight or ten years for you?"
"She says she will wait forever," said Flanders, a bit puzzled by the new turn.
"Well, that's all right, then," said Frederick and to Richard's amazement96 he squared his shoulders and heaved a long sigh, as of relief. "Excuse me, please, I've got to hustle97. Melissa—" He stopped in painful confusion. It had been on the tip of his ingenuous98 tongue to blurt99 out something that would have spoiled all that had gone before. It had to do with Melissa's present whereabouts and her oft-repeated claim that if Flanders kept Miss Fairweather waiting long enough he'd lose her, sure as a shot!
An amazing thing happened to Frederick that evening, just before bedtime. Miss Fairweather kissed him sweetly, not once but thrice, full on the lips, and told him that he was the nicest little boy in all the world.
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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brags
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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fishy
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dealing
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mighty
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mansion
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ordeal
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scant
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pang
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astuteness
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| n.敏锐；精明；机敏 | |
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wards
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| 区( ward的名词复数 )； 病房； 受监护的未成年者； 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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deception
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desolating
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lavished
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uncertainty
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bestowed
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frivolous
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possessed
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positively
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superintendent
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maternity
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worthy
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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inclinations
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| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
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dilate
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| vt.使膨胀，使扩大 | |
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corroborate
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| v.支持，证实，确定 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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lamentably
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| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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retaliation
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| n.报复，反击 | |
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offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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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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smoker
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| n.吸烟者，吸烟车厢，吸烟室 | |
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depiction
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| n.描述 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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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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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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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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84
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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86
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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corking
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| adj.很好的adv.非常地v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的现在分词 ) | |
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tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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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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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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blurt
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| vt.突然说出，脱口说出 | |
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