“Papa,” she said, “you will recall the gentleman whom we met yesterday at the British Museum.”
Mr. Skinner lifted to its place the pince-nez which depended on a gold thread from the lapel of his carefully-buttoned frock-coat, and scrutinised the person indicated in a painstaking2 manner.
“Ah, yes, indeed,” he said, continuing his gaze, but with no salutation, and no offer of the hand.
“It’s so dark in here, I don’t believe you do,” she remarked, to cover the awkwardness of the moment. “The sun has gone now, any way,” and she moved back and put a hand upon the awning-cord.
“Permit me,” said David, hurrying to her side, and pulling at the shade.
“He’s out of sorts about something,” the girl murmured furtively3. “Don’t mind it; just leave him to me.”
In the brightened light, Mr. Skinner’s demeanour seemed no more cordial. He regarded his visitor with a doubtful glance, and gave indications of a sense of embarrassment4 in his presence. The daughter, however, was in no respect dismayed by her responsibility.
“Papa,” she said with brisk decision, “it was all a joke yesterday. Our friend was so amused by your offer yesterday——”
“I beg your pardon, Adele,” the father interposed ceremoniously, “but it becomes immediately incumbent5 upon me to express my dissent6. To obviate7 any possible misconception, it should be explicitly8 stated that, although it is true that the task of formulating9 the proposal to which you allude10 did undoubtedly11 devolve upon me, the proposition itself, both in spirit and suggestion, originated in your own consciousness.”
“All right,” she hurriedly went on, “have it anyway you like. The point is that this gentleman thought it was funny, and so he capped it with his own little joke by pretending to be some one else. He made up that name he gave you on the spur of the moment, just for sport. He came here this morning, just to explain. He was nervous about the deception12, innocent though it was. Papa, let me introduce to you Mr. Linkhaw’s relation, of whom he spoke13 so often, you know—the Earl of Drumpipes.”
Mr. Skinner took in this intelligence with respectful deliberation. He bowed meanwhile, and, after a moment’s deferential14 hesitation15, shook hands in a formal way with David, and motioned him to a seat.
“Sir,” he began, picking his phrases with even greater care, “you will excuse me if I do not address you as ‘My Lord,’ since it is a form of words which I cannot bring myself to regard as seemly when employed by one human being toward another; but I gather from my daughter’s explanation that your statements yesterday concerning your identity were conceived in a spirit of pleasantry. Under ordinary circumstances, sir, the revelation that an entirely16 serious and decorous suggestion of mine had been received with hilarity17 might not convey to my mind an exclusively flattering impression. But I do not, sir, close my eyes to the fact that a wide gulf18 of usage and custom, and, I might say, of principles, separates a simple Jeffersonian Democrat19 like myself from the professor of an hereditary20 European dignity. I am therefore able, sir, to accept, with comparatively few reservations, the explanation which you have tendered to my daughter, and vicariously, as I understand it, to me.”
David repressed a groan21, and hastily cast about in his mind for a decent pretext22 for flight. “I assure you that it greatly relieves me to find you so courteously23 magnanimous,” he said. “I merely yielded to the playful impulse of the moment; and as your daughter has so kindly25 told you, I made haste thereafter to repair my error, when its possible misinterpretation occurred to me.” He bowed again, in response to the other’s solemn genuflection26, and looked toward the door.
“I should be pleased, sir,” Mr. Skinner said, “if you would honour us by remaining to luncheon27.”
“Ah, I should have liked that so much,” answered David, with fervour, “but unhappily I have an engagement at Marlborough House. It will be no end of a bore, but it can’t be helped. An invitation there, you know, is equivalent to a command. That is one of the drawbacks of a monarchy—but of course every system has its weak points.”
“That is a generalisation,” returned Mr. Skinner, “to which I am not prepared to give unmeasured adhesion. I will explain to you, sir, briefly28, the reasons which dictate29 my hesitation to entirely——”
“I’m afraid, Mr. Skinner, that I must tear myself away,” put in David, anxiously consulting his watch. “The Prince never forgives a fellow being late. He has to live so much on a time-table himself, you know, forever catching30 trains, and changing his uniforms, and turning up at the exact minute all over the place, laying corner-stones, and opening docks and unveiling statues, and so on, that it makes him intolerant of other people’s lapses31. And he’s got a fearful memory for that sort of thing.”
“I assume that you speak of the Heir Apparent,” commented the other. “Am I to understand that you live in a state of personal subjection—that a nobleman in your position, for example, contemplates32 with apprehension33 the contingency34 of causing even the most trivial and transitory displeasure to the personage alluded35 to?”
“Apprehension, my dear sir? Positive horror! Ah, you little know the reality! Thoughtless people see us from the outside, and they lightly imagine that our lives are one ceaseless round of luxurious36 gaiety and gilded37 pleasure. They fancy that to have titles, to bear hereditary distinctions, to fill high places at Court, must be the sum of human happiness. Of course, I suppose we do have a better time than the average, but we pay a price for it. We smile, it is true, but there is always a shudder38 beneath the smile. A mere24 breath, a suspicion, the veriest paltry39 whim40 of royal disfavour, and we might better never have been born! And so,” he finished with an uneasy graciousness, “you will understand my abrupt41 leavetaking now.”
“I promise myself on another occasion, sir,” said Mr. Skinner, with more warmth, “the privilege of discussing these topics with you at length. I do not deny that I am myself, to-day, somewhat preoccupied42, and lacking in the power of intellectual concentration. Another occasion, I trust, will find me better fitted to bestow43 upon these subjects the alertness of comprehension and clarity of judgment44 which their importance demands. At the moment, I confess my mind is burdened with another matter.”
“O, papa—you haven’t gone and lost your letter of credit!” The girl intervened with accents of alarm.
The old gentleman shook his head, and smiled in a dubious45 fashion. “No,” he replied, hesitatingly, “it is merely that I—I have been enjoined46 to secrecy47 about a very curious and interesting revelation which has been made to me, and concealment48 is profoundly alien to my nature. The necessity for maintaining a mysterious reserve weighs upon me, sir, with unaccustomed oppression.”
“It is something that you have learned this morning?” demanded the daughter. “I’ll make you tell me as soon as we’re alone.”
“Ah, that cannot be,” the father answered. “My faith has been honourably51 pledged, and must be scrupulously52 observed.”
“But surely it couldn’t have been stipulated53 that I was not to know,” she urged. “That would be absurd. And besides, who knows of even my existence over here?”
“Incomprehensible as it may appear to your perceptions,” responded Mr. Skinner, “it happens that you were particularly alluded to in the terms of the confidential54 compact imposed upon me.”
“Then you had no business to enter into it at all,” she replied, vigorously. “Papa, I am surprised at you!”
There was something in his thoughts which lit the old gentleman’s dry countenance55 with a transient gleam of enjoyment56. “I hazard the humble57 opinion that your surprise will be appreciably58 augmented59 when, at the proper time, the truth shall have been revealed to you.” He turned, with the flicker-ings of a whimsical smile in his eye, to their guest. “It is an extraordinary coincidence, sir; but you are also in a manner associated with the occult event to which I may not at present more pointedly60 refer.”
David musingly61 looked the old gentleman in the eye. “Yes, I know,” he answered; “but I agree with you that it should not be divulged62 to your daughter. As you have said, we men of the world are in duty bound to keep a decent veil drawn63 over certain phases of life. I am quite with you in that, sir; we cannot sufficiently64 respect and guard the sweet-minded innocence65 of our young ladies.”
Mr. Skinner looked hard at the nobleman, and drew up his slender figure. “My memory, sir,” he announced stiffly, “fails to recall any observation resembling in the slightest degree, either in form or sentiments, that which you have ascribed to me. Forgive me, sir, if I venture to further remind you that I have no desire to regard myself, or to be regarded, as a man of the world, in the sense in which I understand that term to be used by the aristocratic class in Great Britain.”
The young lady seemed to share her father’s feelings in the matter. “You must remember, Lord Drumpipes,” she put in, coldly, “that our standards in such things are not yours. I daresay it seems natural enough to one in your position, and with your antecedents and associations, that a venerable, white-haired old gentleman should have disgraceful secrets which he ought to conceal49 from his family; but we take a different view of the meaning of the word ‘gentleman,’ and of the obligations which it involves.”
“Ah, now I have offended you!” cried David, with a show of remorse66. “I assure you that my only thought was to help your good father out of a fix. If I have done wrong, I beg you will put it down to my overeagerness to be of assistance. And now,” he stole a dismayed glance at his watch, “now I really must run. Good-bye! Good-bye, Mr. Skinner. Remember that I count upon that famous discussion with you. And you may rely entirely upon my discretion—in the matter of your secret, you know.”
Father and daughter stood for a moment, gazing at the door behind which their noble guest had disappeared. Then the girl turned her eyes with decision upon the author of her being.
“Papa,” she said, with calm resolution, “what did he intend to convey by his remarks about this secret of yours?”
“Why, Adele,” the other protested, faltering67 a little under her look, “you yourself repudiated68, in the most eloquent69 and unanswerable words, the bare suggestion that I could possibly be animated70 by the desire to cloak any unworthy deed or incident from your observation.”
“That was for his benefit,” she replied, tranquilly71. “I was determined72 that he should know what we thought of his code of morals. But that does not at all affect the question of what you have been doing. Do I understand that you are going to insist on refusing to tell me where you have been, whom you have seen, what your so-called secret is about?”
“Adele!” he urged, “I really must preserve a reticence73 as to the essential details of the matter in question—perhaps only for a few days—at least until the obligation of secrecy is removed. You would not have me recreant74 to my plighted75 faith, would you?”
“But what business had you going and making her any such promise?”
“Her!” Mr. Skinner said, feebly smiling; “you jest, my dear Adele. How can you conceivably imagine it was a ‘her’?”
“I don’t imagine; I know,” responded the daughter, with a hard, dry smile. “You have been seeing that yellow-haired girl that Lord Drumpipes had with him at the Museum yesterday. The letter which summoned you forth76 this morning was from her. You made some paltering excuses to me, and went out to meet her—and you won’t look me in the eye and deny it.”
In truth he did not take up her challenge. He hung his head, looked away, and shuffled77 with his feet. “All I am at liberty to say,” he remarked at last, with visible emotion, “is that my grief at being compelled to rest temporarily under the unwelcome shadow of your suspicion is, to some slight extent, mitigated78 by the consciousness that when you know all you will do ample justice to the probity79 of my motives80 and the honourable81 character of my actions. I might even go further, and express the conviction that the outcome will be of a nature to afford you unalloyed personal satisfaction.”
“That may all be,” returned Adele; “but, in the meantime, you don’t go out in London any more by yourself!”
Mosscrop laughed to himself as he ran down the stairs of the hotel. The spirit of mirth remained with him while he more slowly ascended82 the flight of steps, and the dingy83 passage and covered by-way leading up to the Strand84. It was the most comical thing he had ever heard of, and he chuckled85 again and again during the climb. But upon the bustling86 crowded thoroughfare it somehow ceased to seem so funny, or at least its value as a source of entertainment began to diminish rapidly. He found his mind reverting87 irresistibly88 to the disappointment of the early morning. The image of Vestalia rose upon his mental vision, and would not go away. He brooded over it as he walked, and recognised that intervening incidents and personalities89 had in no sense dimmed his interest in it. He pictured her wonderful hair again, her bright-faced smile, her dear little airs and graces, with a yearning90 emptiness of heart.
The luncheon obtainable at the Barbary Club was even more unpalatable than usual, which was saying much. The familiar fact that the waiters were Germans struck him afresh, and took on the proportions of an international grievance91. There were some fellows upstairs playing at what they supposed was whist. He stood for a while over the shoulders of a couple of the gamesters, and noted92, with a cynical93 eye, the progress of their hot rivalry94 as to which should contribute the larger incapacity and the finer stupidity to the losing of the rubber. When they asked him if he wanted to cut in, he turned away with a snort of derisive95 scorn.
Over in the billiard-room there were only the marker and the member who played far worse than anybody else in the club. David sourly consented to occupy himself with this egregious96 outsider, and was beaten by him. The result was so clearly due to accident that he laid some money on the next game. Again the duffer fluked like mad, and won, and in a third game his luck was of such a glaring character, that Mosscrop could not refrain from loud comment. This his antagonist97 resented. They parted with harsh words, and Mosscrop, cursing the hour when it first occurred to him to identify himself with such a squalid pot-house, hastened angrily to shake its dust from his feet.
He made his way, by devious98 streets whose old book-stalls for once beckoned99 him in vain, to Bloomsbury and the Museum. A kind of idea had grown up unobtrusively in the background of his thoughts, that possibly he might find Vestalia there. It assumed the definite outlines of an expectation as soon as he entered the building. When he stood in the reading-room itself, and began a systematic100 scrutiny101 of its radiating rows of readers, it was with as much confidence as if he had come by appointment. The failure to discover her disturbed and annoyed him. He made a slow tour of the inner circle, then another of the broader outer ring, and suffered no one of the professed102 students to escape his examining eye.
What a crew they were! He had never realised it before. His hostile inspection103 laid bare the puerile104 devices of the young fools who came by concerted arrangement, took down books at random105, and, sitting close together, carried on clandestine106 flirtations under the sightless mask of literature. He glowered107 with a newly-informed vision at the extraordinary females whom no one had planned to meet—the lone50 women with eccentric coiffures and startling costumes, who emerge from heaven knows where, and mysteriously gather here in quest of something which it seems incredible that even heaven should be able to define. Observing now the vacuous108 egotism of their flutterings and posturings in other people’s way, the despairing clutch at public attention made by their outlandish vestiture and general get-up, David’s thoughts settled grimly upon the fact that there were lands, the seats of ancient civilizations, where superfluous109 female children were drowned at birth. Here, he reflected, with sullen110 irony111, we teach them to read and write, and build and stock a vast reading-room for them instead. His mood preferred the Ganges to the Thames.
There was more pathos112 in the spectacle of another class of habitual113 attendants—the poor, shabby, hungry serfs of the quotation114 merchant. Mosscrop knew the genus by sight, and in other times had had amusement from their contemplation. How a sombre rage possessed115 him as he beheld116 them toiling117 unintelligently, hopelessly, under the lash119 of starvation. He watched one of the slave-drivers for a while, a short, red man, of swollen120 spiderish aspect, who moved about keeping these sweated wretches121 at their toil118, now doling122 out a few pence to one who could remain erect123 unnourished not a minute longer, and who slunk out forthwith with a wolfish haste, now withering124 some other with whispered reproaches of threats. Mosscrop longed to go and break this creature’s neck, or at the very least to kick him, with loud curses and utmost contumely, from the room.
He went out himself, instead, animated by a freshening spirit of resentment125 at the futility126 of existence. From sheer force of habit, he dawdled127 in front of shop-windows, turned over hooks and prints in one after another of his accustomed resorts for second-hand128 merchandise, and otherwise killed time till the dinner hour. But he did it all without any inner pretence129 that the process afforded him consolation130. Even when he met some fellows from the Temple, in Chancery Lane, and joined them in a series of visits to ancient bars in the vicinity, where they all stood at wearisome length, and argued with intolerable inconsequence about wholly irrelevant131 matters over their drinks, his thoughts maintained a moody132 concentration upon the theme of his personal unhappiness. The stray contributions which he offered to the general conversation were all of an acrid133, not to say truculent134, character. He had a sort of dour135 satisfaction in the utterance136 of offensive gibes137 and bitter jokes. Twice the threat of an altercation138 arose, in consequence of these ill-natured comments of his, and David sullenly139 welcomed the imminent140 quarrel; but the intervention141 of the others, without any help from him, cleared the atmosphere again. Even the peacemakers, however, evinced the opinion that he was behaving badly, and nodded cheerful adieus when at last he declared that they were a parcel of uninspired loons, with whom he marvelled142 to find himself consuming valuable time. They lifted their glasses at him mockingly as he strode away, with the gleam of an unexpressed “good riddance!” in their eyes.
The consciousness that he had made himself disagreeable to these fellows had its uses as a counter-irritant to his inner self-disgust. It rendered solitude143 at least a trifle more supportable. He bought a novel, and read it beside his plate at Simpson’s, where the heavy joints144 and weighty old ale just fitted his mood. The book was one which the papers were talking of for the moment. David reflected grimly as he skimmed the opening chapters that Vestalia had asked him why he didn’t write a Scotch145 novel. They were all the vogue146, she said, and while the fashion lasted, it was nonsense for any Scotchman to pretend that he could not profitably occupy his leisure time. He had replied, with some flippancy147, that his imaginative powers might compass the construction of a tale, hut were unequal to the task of inventing also a whole dialect to tell it in. How, as the whim returned to him, his fancy parodied148 a title for this unborn work. How would “A Goddess, Some Merely Ordinary Fools and Lord Drumpipes” do?
Ah! that Drumpipes! David paid his bill, lit a cigar, and sallied forth, suddenly informed with the notion of going to the Inn, and having it out with the Earl. He doubled up his fists as he hurried along.
The top floor at Dunstan’s was wrapped in darkness. Mosscrop knocked and kicked first at “Mr. Linkhaw’s” door to make sure that no one was in, then opened his own, and struck a light. The apartment wore still in his eyes the chill desolation of aspect which he remembered from the morning. There had been a change in the weather, and the suggestion of a fire was in the damp air. He put on his loose jacket and slippers149, recalling sadly as he did so the vision he had beheld only twenty-four hours before, of that pretty little ermined footgear on the fender beside his, in front of the glowing grate. He brought out the decanter and a glass, and sighed deeply.
Then all at once he caught sight of something white in the letter box. In the same instant he was tearing open a stamped envelope, addressed in a large, strange hand which yet he knew so well, and excitedly striving to gulp150 in the meaning of the whole written page before him, without troubling to read the lines in their sequence. Yes, it was from her, and—yes, it contained words of kindness and even of tenderness which shone brilliantly forth here and there from the context. He pulled himself together, and walking over to the light, began resolutely151 at the beginning.
“Dear Mr. Mosscrop,—I hope you were not very much disappointed at finding me gone this morning, or rather, I hope you were a little disappointed, but will not be so any longer when you get this explanation. I don’t know either that it can be called an explanation, for it doesn’t seem to me that I am at all able to explain even to myself, much less to you.
“The fact is that you were so kind and so sweet to me, that I simply had to do what I have done. I saw it all, after we had parted. Under the circumstances, and especially considering the delicate and noble manner in which you had treated me, it was the only thing I could do!
“I should have left a message for you in your letter-box, but there was not a scrap152 of paper, not even a book out of which I could tear a fly-leaf, in Mr. Linkhaw’s room, nor writing materials of any sort. I have bought this paper at the stationer’s, and am writing this note in an hotel writing-room.
“The dear dressing-bag, and the other beautiful things which I owe to you, I took away with me because it would have broken my heart to leave them, and I felt sure you would be glad to have me take them. Every time I look at them, and all other times too, I shall think of the best man I ever knew or dreamed of. Something very important has occurred, which may turn out to be of the greatest possible advantage to me. It is very uncertain as yet, and I cannot tell you about it at present, but soon I hope to be able to do so.
“In the meantime, please believe in my undying gratitude153. Vestalia.”
David drew a long breath, poured a drink for himself, lit his pipe, and sat down to read the letter all over again. He arrived slowly at the conclusion that he was glad she had written it—but beyond that his sensations remained obstinately154 undefined. The girl had disappeared behind a thick high wall which his imagination was unequal to the task of surmounting155. A few stray facts assumed a certain distinctness in his mind: she had evidently gone off quite of her own accord, and she had appreciated the spirit of his attitude towards her the previous day, and she had encountered on this, the following day, something or somebody which might bring her good luck. What kind of good luck? he wondered.
There was an implied promise in her words that he should be informed when this mysterious beneficence assumed shape. This had very little comfort in it for him. In fact, he found he rather hated the idea of her enjoying good luck in which he had no share.
Suppose instead that it didn’t come off. Would she return to him then, or at least let him know, so that he might hasten forward again as her special providence156?
Ah, that is what he had wanted to be—her providence. The notion of doing everything for her, of being the source of all she had, of foreseeing her wants, inventing her pleasures, ministering joyfully157 to the least of her sweet little caprices—the charm of this r?le fascinated him more than ever. He recalled in detail the emotions of delight he had experienced in buying things for her. By some law which he recognised without analysing, the greatest pleasure had arisen from the purchase of the articles which she needed most. There had been only a moderate and tempered ecstasy158 in paying for champagne159, but oh, the bliss160 of buying her boots, and those curling-irons, and the comb! He thrilled again with it, in retrospect161. What would it have been to see her clad entirely in garments of his providing?
But the cage was empty—the bird had flown. Would she come back again? Was there really the remotest hint of such a possibility in her letter?
No. He read it still again, and shook his head at the fender with a despairing groan. The gloom of his reverie benumbed his senses. He let his pipe go out, and suffered the glass at his elbow to remain untouched, as he sat with his sad thoughts for company, and did not even hear the footsteps which presently ascended the stairs.
A soft little knock at the door startled him from his meditations162. He stood up, with his heart fluttering, and lifted his hand in wonderment to his brow. Had he been asleep and dreaming?
The dainty tapping on the panel renewed itself. David moved as in a trance toward the door.
点击收听单词发音
1 sitting-room | |
n.(BrE)客厅,起居室 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 painstaking | |
adj.苦干的;艰苦的,费力的,刻苦的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 furtively | |
adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 incumbent | |
adj.成为责任的,有义务的;现任的,在职的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 dissent | |
n./v.不同意,持异议 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 obviate | |
v.除去,排除,避免,预防 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 explicitly | |
ad.明确地,显然地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 formulating | |
v.构想出( formulate的现在分词 );规划;确切地阐述;用公式表示 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 allude | |
v.提及,暗指 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 deception | |
n.欺骗,欺诈;骗局,诡计 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 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: |
|
|
14 deferential | |
adj. 敬意的,恭敬的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 hilarity | |
n.欢乐;热闹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 democrat | |
n.民主主义者,民主人士;民主党党员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 courteously | |
adv.有礼貌地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 genuflection | |
n. 曲膝, 屈服 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 luncheon | |
n.午宴,午餐,便宴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 dictate | |
v.口授;(使)听写;指令,指示,命令 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 lapses | |
n.失误,过失( lapse的名词复数 );小毛病;行为失检;偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 );陷入;倒退;丧失 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 contemplates | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的第三人称单数 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 contingency | |
n.意外事件,可能性 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 alluded | |
提及,暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 gilded | |
a.镀金的,富有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 whim | |
n.一时的兴致,突然的念头;奇想,幻想 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 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: |
|
|
43 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 dubious | |
adj.怀疑的,无把握的;有问题的,靠不住的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 enjoined | |
v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 secrecy | |
n.秘密,保密,隐蔽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 concealment | |
n.隐藏, 掩盖,隐瞒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 lone | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 honourably | |
adv.可尊敬地,光荣地,体面地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 scrupulously | |
adv.一丝不苟地;小心翼翼地,多顾虑地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 stipulated | |
vt.& vi.规定;约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 confidential | |
adj.秘(机)密的,表示信任的,担任机密工作的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 appreciably | |
adv.相当大地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 Augmented | |
adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 pointedly | |
adv.尖地,明显地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 musingly | |
adv.沉思地,冥想地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 divulged | |
v.吐露,泄露( divulge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 faltering | |
犹豫的,支吾的,蹒跚的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 repudiated | |
v.(正式地)否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 );拒绝接受;拒绝与…往来;拒不履行(法律义务) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 tranquilly | |
adv. 宁静地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 reticence | |
n.沉默,含蓄 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 recreant | |
n.懦夫;adj.胆怯的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 plighted | |
vt.保证,约定(plight的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 shuffled | |
v.洗(纸牌)( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 );拖着脚步走;粗心地做;摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 mitigated | |
v.减轻,缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 probity | |
n.刚直;廉洁,正直 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 strand | |
vt.使(船)搁浅,使(某人)困于(某地) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 chuckled | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 bustling | |
adj.喧闹的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 reverting | |
恢复( revert的现在分词 ); 重提; 回到…上; 归还 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 irresistibly | |
adv.无法抵抗地,不能自持地;极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 personalities | |
n. 诽谤,(对某人容貌、性格等所进行的)人身攻击; 人身攻击;人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 yearning | |
a.渴望的;向往的;怀念的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 rivalry | |
n.竞争,竞赛,对抗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 derisive | |
adj.嘲弄的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 egregious | |
adj.非常的,过分的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 antagonist | |
n.敌人,对抗者,对手 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 devious | |
adj.不坦率的,狡猾的;迂回的,曲折的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 beckoned | |
v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 systematic | |
adj.有系统的,有计划的,有方法的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
102 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
103 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
104 puerile | |
adj.幼稚的,儿童的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
105 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
106 clandestine | |
adj.秘密的,暗中从事的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
107 glowered | |
v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
108 vacuous | |
adj.空的,漫散的,无聊的,愚蠢的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
109 superfluous | |
adj.过多的,过剩的,多余的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
110 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
111 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
112 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
113 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
114 quotation | |
n.引文,引语,语录;报价,牌价,行情 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
115 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
116 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
117 toiling | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
118 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
119 lash | |
v.系牢;鞭打;猛烈抨击;n.鞭打;眼睫毛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
120 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
121 wretches | |
n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 );可怜的人;恶棍;坏蛋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
122 doling | |
救济物( dole的现在分词 ); 失业救济金 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
123 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
124 withering | |
使人畏缩的,使人害羞的,使人难堪的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
125 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
126 futility | |
n.无用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
127 dawdled | |
v.混(时间)( dawdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
128 second-hand | |
adj.用过的,旧的,二手的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
129 pretence | |
n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
130 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
131 irrelevant | |
adj.不恰当的,无关系的,不相干的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
132 moody | |
adj.心情不稳的,易怒的,喜怒无常的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
133 acrid | |
adj.辛辣的,尖刻的,刻薄的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
134 truculent | |
adj.野蛮的,粗野的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
135 dour | |
adj.冷酷的,严厉的;(岩石)嶙峋的;顽强不屈 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
136 utterance | |
n.用言语表达,话语,言语 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
137 gibes | |
vi.嘲笑,嘲弄(gibe的第三人称单数形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
138 altercation | |
n.争吵,争论 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
139 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
140 imminent | |
adj.即将发生的,临近的,逼近的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
141 intervention | |
n.介入,干涉,干预 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
142 marvelled | |
v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
143 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
144 joints | |
接头( joint的名词复数 ); 关节; 公共场所(尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所) (非正式); 一块烤肉 (英式英语) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
145 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
146 Vogue | |
n.时髦,时尚;adj.流行的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
147 flippancy | |
n.轻率;浮躁;无礼的行动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
148 parodied | |
v.滑稽地模仿,拙劣地模仿( parody的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
149 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
150 gulp | |
vt.吞咽,大口地吸(气);vi.哽住;n.吞咽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
151 resolutely | |
adj.坚决地,果断地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
152 scrap | |
n.碎片;废料;v.废弃,报废 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
153 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
154 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
155 surmounting | |
战胜( surmount的现在分词 ); 克服(困难); 居于…之上; 在…顶上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
156 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
157 joyfully | |
adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
158 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
159 champagne | |
n.香槟酒;微黄色 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
160 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
161 retrospect | |
n.回顾,追溯;v.回顾,回想,追溯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
162 meditations | |
默想( meditation的名词复数 ); 默念; 沉思; 冥想 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |