At noon on a day late in September the express train from Paris rested, panting and impatient, on its brief halt in the station at Rouen. The platform was covered with groups of passengers, pushing their way into or out of the throng1 about the victualer’s table. Through the press passed waiters, bearing above their heads trays with cups of tea and plates of food. People were climbing the high steps to the carriages, or beckoning2 to others from the open windows of compartments3. Four minutes of the allotted5 five had passed. The warning cries of the guards had begun, and there was even to be heard the ominous6 preliminary tooting of a horn.
At the front of the section of first-class carriages a young woman leaned through the broad window-frame of a coupé, and held a difficult conversation with one of the waiters. She had sandwiches in one hand, some loose coin in the other. Her task was to get at the meaning of a man who spoke7 of sous while she was thinking in centimes, and she smiled a little in amused vexation with herself at the embarrassment9.
“Deux sandwich: combien si vous plait, monsieur?” she repeated, with an appealing stress of courtesy. More slowly she constructed a second sentence: “Est un franc assez?” She proffered10 the silver coin to help out her inquiry11, and the waiter, nodding, put up his hand for it.
On the instant, as the noise of slamming doors and the chorus of “Au coupé, s’il-v’-plait!” grew peremptory12, one in authority pushed the waiter aside and pulled open the coupé door upon which she had been leaning. “Permettez moi, madame!” he said curtly13.
Close at his back was a young man, with wraps upon his arm and a traveling bag in his hand, who was flushed and breathing hard with the excitement of hurry, and who drew a long sigh of relief as he put his foot on the bottom step of the coupé.
The young woman had grasped the door and was striving stoutly14 to drag it to her. “Mais non, monsieur!” she shouted, her voice quivering with vehemence16. “Cette compartement est tout15 reserveé-engageé! J’ai donné sank franc soisante, en Paris, pour moi seulement! Je proteste!”
Sharp blasts from a horn at the rear of the train broke in upon her earnest if uncertain remarks. The official held up one warning hand, while with the other he wrenched17 the door wide open. He said something of which the girl comprehended only its arbitrary harshness of spirit. Brusquely thrusting a ticket into the young man’s hand, he pushed him up the steps into the compartment4, and closed the door upon him with a clang. Arms were waving outside; the tin horn screamed; a throb18 of reawakened energy thrilled backward through the train.
“I assure you—I am so sorry,” the young man began, still standing19 by the door. His voice was gentle and deprecatory. His words were English, but the tone was of some other language.
“But I have taken the whole compartment-I paid for it all!” she burst out at him, her voice shaking with indignation. “It is an outrage20!”
“I am afraid you are mistaken,” he started to speak again; “you obtained only one seat—I have a ticket for another. If there had been time, I beg you to believe—” The train was moving, and a swift plunge21 into utter darkness abruptly22 broke off his speech. After a few moments it became possible to discern vague outlines in the black compartment. The girl had huddled23 herself on the end cushion at the right. The young man took his seat in the corner to the left, and for three incredibly protracted24 minutes the tunnel reared its uncanny barrier of bogus night between them. The dim suggestion of light which remained to them revealed constrained25 and motionless figures drawn26 rigidly27 away from each other, and pale averted28 countenances29 staring fixedly31 into the gloom.
All at once they were blinking in a flood of sunshine, and drawing welcome breaths of the new, sweet air which swept through from window to window. The young man’s gaze, decorously turned to his left, was of a sudden struck with the panorama32 as by a blow. He uttered a little cry of delight to himself, and bent33 forward with eagerness to grasp as much as he might of what was offered. The broad, hill-rimmed basin of the Seine; the gray towers and shining spires34 of the ancient town; the blue films of smoke drifting through the autumn haze35; the tall black chimneys, the narrow, high poplars, the splashes of vivid color with which the mighty36 moving picture painted itself—all held him, rapt and trembling, with his face out of the window.
Summarily the darkness descended37 upon them again. He drew back, settled himself in his seat and recalled the circumstance that he was not alone. It occurred to him to pull up the window, and then instinctively38 he turned to see if she had taken the same precaution on her side. Thus when the short second tunnel unexpectedly ended, he found himself regarding his companion with wideeyed and surprised intentness.
There were two vacant seats between them, and across this space she returned his scrutiny39 for a moment; then with a fine show of calm she looked away, out through the broad, rounded panes40 which constituted the front of the compartment.
To the eye of the young man, she was above all things English. Her garments, her figure, the pose of her head, the consciously competent repose41 of her profile, the very angle at which the correct gray hat, with its fawn-colored ribbon, crossed the line of the brow above—these spoke loudly to him of the islander. From this fact alone would be inferred a towering personal pride, and an implacable resentment42 toward those who, no matter how innocently and accidentally, offered injury to that pride. He knew the English well, and it hardly needed this partial view of her face to tell him that she was very angry.
Another young man, under these conditions, might have more frankly43 asked himself whether the face was a beautiful one. He was conscious that the query44 had taken shape in his mind, but he gave it no attention. It was the character of the face, instead, which had powerfully impressed him. He recalled with curious minuteness the details of his first glimpse of it—the commanding light in the gray eyes, the tightened46 curves of the lip, the mantling47 red on the high, smooth cheek. Was it a pretty face? No—the question would not propound48 itself. Prettiness had nothing to do with the matter. The personality which looked through the face—that was what affected49 him.
The compartment seemed filled in some subtle way with the effect of this personality. He looked out of his window again. A beautiful deep valley lay below him now, with densely50 wooded hills beyond. The delicate tints51 of the waning52 season enriched the tracery of foliage53 close at hand; still the tall chimneys, mixed with poplars, marked the course of the enslaved river, but the factories themselves were kindly54 hidden here by dark growths of thicket55 in the shadowed depths.
It was surpassingly beautiful, but its contemplation left him restless. He moved about on his seat, partially56 lowered the window, put it up again and at last turned his head.
“I am afraid that all the charming landscape is on this side,” he made bold to say. “I will change places with pleasure, if—if you would be so kind.”
“No, thank you,” was her spontaneous and decisive reply. Upon reflection she added in a more deliberate tone: “I should be obliged if you would take the view that conversation is not necessary.”
Some latent strain of temerity57 amazed the young man by rising to the surface of his mind, under the provocation58 of this rebuff, and shaping his purpose for him.
“It is only fair to myself, first, however,” he with surprise heard himself declaring, “that I should finish my explanation. You can satisfy yourself readily at Dieppe that your ticket is for only one seat. It is very, easy to make errors of that kind when one does not—that is to say, is not—well, entirely59 familiar with the language of the country. As to my own part, you will remember that I came only at the last moment. I took my coupé seat a half hour before, because I also wished to be alone, and then I went out to see Jeanne d’Arc’s tower again, and I was nearly too late. If there had been time, I would have found a seat elsewhere—but you yourself saw—”
“Really, I think no more need be said,” broke in his companion. She looked him frankly, coldly in the face as she spoke, and her words seemed in his ears to have metallic60 edges. “It is plain enough that there was a mistake. As you have suggested, my French is very faulty indeed, and no doubt the misunderstanding is entirely my own. So, since it is unavoidable, there surely need be no more words about it.”
She opened a book at this, put her feet out to the stool in front and ostentatiously disposed herself for deep abstraction in literature.
The young man in turn got out some pamphlets and papers from the pockets of his great-coat, and pretended to divide his attention between these and the scenery outside. In truth, he did not for a moment get the face of this girl out of his thoughts. More than ever now, since she had looked him fully45 in the eye, it was not a face to be pictured in the brain as other faces of women had been. The luminous61 substance of the individuality behind the face shone out at him from the pages he stared at, and from the passing vistas62 of lowland meadows, streams and mill-towns that met his gaze through the window.
He knew so little of women that his mind was quite devoid63 of materials for any comparative analysis of the effect she produced upon him. He evolved for himself, indeed, the conviction that really this was the first woman, in the genuine and higher meaning of the word, that he had ever met. The recognition of this brought with it an excitement as novel to him as the fact itself. Before ever he had seen her, clinging to the coupé door with her gloved hands and so bravely doing hopeless and tongue-tied battle with the guard, there had been things which had made this the greatest day of his life. He was in truth finishing the last stage of a journey into the unknown, the strange possibilities of which had for a week kept his nerves on the rack. The curtain of only one more night hung now between him and the revealed lineaments of destiny. To be alone with his perturbed64 thoughts, on this culminating day of anxious hopes and dreads65, had been his controlling idea at Rouen. It was for this that he had bought the coupé seat, upon the rumor66 of the station that solitude67 was thus to be commanded. And now how extraordinary was the chance!
There had stepped into this eventful day, as from the clouds, a stranger whose mysterious appeal to his imagination seemed more remarkable68 than all else combined.
He worked this out, painstakingly69, with little sidelong glances from time to time toward where she sat buried in her book, to check the progression of his reasoning. When he reached the conclusion that she was really playing this predominant part in the drama of the day, its suggestion of hysterical70 folly71 rather frightened him. He looked with earnestness out of the window, and even be gan to count the chimneys of the landscape as an overture72 to returning sanity73. Then he looked less furtively74 at her and said to himself with labored75 plausibility76 that she was but an ordinary traveling Englishwoman, scarcely to be differentiated77 from the Cook’s-tourist type that he knew so well; she had not even a governess’ knowledge of French, and there had been nothing in her words and tone with him to indicate either mental distinction or kindliness78 of temper. Why should he bestow79 so much as another thought upon her? He squared his slender shoulders, and turned with resolution to his book.
A minute later the impossibility of the situation had mastered every fiber80 of his brain. He put down the volume, feeling himself to be a fool for doing so, yet suffering himself with an unheard-of gladness.
“If I anger you, I shall be much pained,” he said, with a set face turned not quite toward her, and a voice that he kept from breaking by constant effort, “but I am going to England for the first time, and there are some things that I am very anxious to ask about.”
She seemed to reflect a little before she lifted her head. Now again he was priviledged to look squarely into her face, and he added swiftly to his store a new impression of her. The ruling characteristic of the countenance30 was a certain calm and serious reasonableness. The forehead was broad and comely81; the glance of the eyes was at once alert and steady. The other features were content to support this controlling upper part of the face; they made a graceful82 and fitting frame for the mind which revealed itself in the eyes and brow—and sought to do no more. Studying her afresh in this moment of her silence, he recalled the face of a young Piedmontese bishop83 who had come once to his school. It had the same episcopal serenity84, the same wistful pride in youth’s conquest of the things immortal85, the same suggestion of intellectuality in its clear pallor.
“I should dislike to seem rude,” she said, slowly. “What is it that you want to ask?” What was it indeed? He searched confusedly about in his mind for some one question entitled to precedence among the thousand to which answers would come in good time. He found nothing better than a query as to the connection between New Haven86 and Brighton.
“In this little book,” he explained, “there is a time for New Haven and for London, but I cannot find a mention of Brighton, yet I am expected there this evening, or perhaps, early to-morrow morning.”
“I am sure I cannot tell you,’” she answered. “However, the places are not far apart. I should say there would certainly be trains.”
She lifted the book again as she spoke, and adjusted her shoulders to the cushions. He made haste to prevent the interview from lapsing87.
“I have never seen England,” he urged dolefully, “and yet I am all English in my blood—and in my feelings, too.”
A flicker88 of ironical89 perception played for an instant in her eye and at the corner of her lip. “I have heard that a certain class of Americans adopt that pose,” she remarked. “I dare say it is all right.”
He did not grasp her meaning all at once, though the willingness to give umbrage90 conveyed in her tone was clear enough. He looked doubtfully at her, before he spoke again. “Oh,” he began, with hesitation—“yes, I see—you thought I was American. I am not in the least—I am all English. And it affects me very much—this thought that in a few hours now I am to see the real England. I am so excited about it, in fact,” he added with a deprecatory little laugh, “that I couldn’t bear it not to talk.”
She nodded comprehendingly. “I thought that your accent must be American—since it certainly isn’t English.”
“Oh, I have too facile an ear,” he answered readily, as if the subject were by no means new to him. “I pick up every accent that I hear. I have been much with English people, but even more with Americans and Australians. I always talk like the last family I have been in—until I enter another. I am by profession a private tutor—principally in languages—and so I know my failings in this matter very well.” She smiled at some passing retrospect91. “You must have had an especially complete sense of my shortcomings as a linguist92, too. I have often wondered what effect my French would produce upon an actual professor, but I should never have had the courage to experiment, if I had known.”
He waved his hand—a pale hand with veined, thin, nervous fingers, which she looked at in its foreign gesture. “Too much importance is attached to languages,” he declared. “It is the cheapest and most trivial of acquirements, if it stands alone, or if it is not put to high uses. Parents have so often angered me over this: they do not care what is in their children’s minds and hearts, but only for the polish and form of what is on their tongues. I have a different feeling about education.”
She nodded again, and laid the book aside. “You are coming to a country where everything will shock you, then,” she said. “I would rather do scullery work, or break stones by the roadside, than be a schoolteacher in England.”
“Oh, it’s the same everywhere,” he urged. “I would not think that the English were worse than the others. They are different, that is all. Besides, I do not think I shall be a teacher in England. Of course, I speak in the dark; for a few hours yet everything is uncertain. But as the old American senator at Monte Carlo used to say, ‘I feel it in my bones’ that I will not have to teach any more.”
The expression of her face seemed somehow not to invite autobiography93 at the moment. “The prospect94 of not having to work any more for one’s living,” she mused8 at him—“how curiously95 fascinating it always is! We know perfectly96 well that it is good for us to work, and that we should be woefully unhappy if we did not work, and yet we are forever charming our imagination with a vision of complete idleness.”
“I would not be idle!” the young man broke forth97, enthusiastically. He leaned forward in his seat, and spoke with eager hands as well as words against the noise that filled the swaying carriage. “I have that same feeling—the longing98 to escape from the dull and foolish tasks I have to do—but I never say to myself that I would be idle. There are such a host of things to do in the world that are worth doing! But the men who have the time and the money, who are in the position to do these things—how is it, I ask myself, that they never think of doing them? It is the greatest of marvels99 to me. Then sometimes I wonder, if the chance and the power came to me, whether I also would sit down, and fold my hands, and do nothing. It is hard to say; who can be sure what is in him till he has been tested? Yet I like to think that I would prove the exception. It is only natural,” he concluded, smilingly, “that one should try to think as well as possible of oneself.”
The young lady surveyed his nervous, mobile face with thoughtful impassivity. “You seem to think, one way or another, a good deal about yourself,” she remarked.
He bowed to her, with a certain exaggeration in his show of quite sincere humility100 which, she said to herself, had not been learned from his English-speaking connections.
“What you say is very true,” he admitted with candor101. “It is my fault—my failing. I know it only too well.”
“My fault is bad manners,” she replied, disarmed102 by his self-abasement. “I had no business to say it at all.”
“Oh, no,” he urged. “It is delightful103 to me that you did say it. I could not begin to tell you how good your words sounded in my ears. Honest and wise criticism is what I have not heard before in years. You do not get it in the South; there is flattery for you, and sneering104, and praise as much too high as blame is too cruel—but no candid105, quiet judgments106. Oh, I loved to hear you say that! It was like my brother—my older brother Salvator. He is in America now. He is the only one who always said the truth to me. And I am glad, too, because—because it makes you seem like a friend to me, and I have been so agitated107 this whole week, so anxious and upset, and all without a soul to talk to, or advise with—and the pressure on me has been so great——”
He let the wandering sentence lose itself in the clamor of the train, and put the rest of his meaning into the glance with which he clung to hers. The appeal for sympathetic kindliness of treatment glowed in his eyes and shone upon his eager face.
She took time for her answer, and when she spoke it was hardly in direct reply. “Your business in England,” she said, as unconcernedly as might be—“it is that, I take it, which causes so much anxiety. Fortunately it is soon to be settled—to-morrow, I think you said.”
“I wish I might tell you about it,” he responded with frank fervency108. “I wish it—you cannot imagine how much!”
The look with which she received his words recalled to him her earlier manner. “I’m afraid—” she began, in a measured voice, and then stopped. Intuition helped him to read in her face the coming of a softer mood. Finally she smiled a little. “Really, this is all very quaint,” she said, and the smile crept into her voice. “But the train is slowing down—there is no time now.”
They were indeed moving through the street of a town, at a pace which had been insensibly lowered while they talked. The irregular outlines of docks and boat-slips, overhanging greenish water, revealed themselves between dingy109 houses covered with signs and posters. At the barriers crossing the streets were clustered groups of philosophic110 observers, headed by the inevitable111 young soldier with his hands in the pockets of his red trousers, and flanked by those brown old women in white caps who seem always to be unoccupied, yet mysteriously do everything that is done.
“This is Dieppe, then?” he asked, with a collecting hand put out for his wraps.
The train had halted, and doors were being opened for tickets.
“We sit still, here, and go on to the wharf,” she explained.
“And then to the boat!” he cried. “How long is it?—the voyage on the boat, I mean. Three hours and over! Excellent!”
She laughed outright112 as she rose, and got together her books and papers.
“I thought you were a Frenchman when I first saw you,” she confided113 to him over her shoulder. “But no Frenchman at Dieppe ever yet shouted ‘Excellent!’ with his face turned toward the New Haven steamers.”
The mirth in her tone was so welcome to him that he laughed in turn, without any clear idea of her words. He gathered her handbag up along with his own, and when she demurred114 he offered her gay defiance115.
“It is the terrible boldness of a timid person,” he prattled116, as he helped her down the steps, “but you must perceive that in the face of it you are quite helpless. Since I was born, I have never really had my own way before. But now I begin to believe in my star. After all, one is not an Englishman for nothing.”
“Oh, it is comparatively easy to be an Englishman in Dieppe,” she made answer.
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收听单词发音
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1
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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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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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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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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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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mantling
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| 覆巾 | |
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propound
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| v.提出 | |
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49
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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51
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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53
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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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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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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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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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dreads
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| n.恐惧，畏惧( dread的名词复数 )；令人恐惧的事物v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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painstakingly
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| adv. 费力地 苦心地 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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plausibility
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| n. 似有道理, 能言善辩 | |
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differentiated
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| 区分，区别，辨别( differentiate的过去式和过去分词 )； 区别对待； 表明…间的差别，构成…间差别的特征 | |
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kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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lapsing
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| v.退步( lapse的现在分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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90
umbrage
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| n.不快；树荫 | |
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retrospect
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| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
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linguist
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| n.语言学家；精通数种外国语言者 | |
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93
autobiography
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| n.自传 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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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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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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98
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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99
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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100
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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101
candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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102
disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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103
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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104
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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105
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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106
judgments
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| 判断( judgment的名词复数 )； 鉴定； 评价； 审判 | |
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107
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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108
fervency
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| n.热情的；强烈的；热烈 | |
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109
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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110
philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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111
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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112
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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113
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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114
demurred
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| v.表示异议，反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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116
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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