Who love their work,
??Whose virtue1 is a song
??To cheer God along.
Thoreau.
I
Thus it was that the days passed without any literate2 and discreet3 female descending5 on Frog Farm or any rejuvenation6 appearing in Martha’s bonnet7; and the unread letter lay—guarded by two china dogs—on the parlour mantelpiece awaiting the carrier. For it had been decided8, after nightly discussions that were a change for Caleb from the Christadelphian curtain-lectures, to fall back on Jinny after all. She was to read it to Martha in Caleb’s careful absence, and was to be stopped if the improper9 seemed looming11.
Alas12, the best-laid schemes of mice and Marthas gang agley, and by the day that Jinny’s horn resounded13 along the raised road that led to the farm, the world was changed for Caleb and Martha. There was, in fact—for the first time in Jinny’s experience—neither of the twain to meet her as Methusalem ambled15 under the drooping16 witch-elms towards the twin doors.
It was a tilt17-cart,—with two tall wheels, and although Jinny steered18 it and packed it and unpacked19 it, and scoured20 it and hitched21 Methusalem to it, its weather-beaten canvas blazoned22 in fading black letters the legend:
Daniel Quarles
Carrier
Little Bradmarsh.
You gather that she operated under the shadow of a great name, greatest as being masculine. Self-standing23 careers for women had not yet dawned on the world. If the first faint cloud of feminism had appeared that very year in New York, no bigger than a man’s pants, the Bloomerites had but added to the gaiety of mankind, and in rural Essex, with the exception of dressmaking, wherein man appeared unnatural24, women were the recognized practitioners25 only of witchcraft26 or fortune-telling or the concoction28 of philters; professions that were the peculiar29 province of crones scarcely to be considered sexed. Though women earned money by plaiting straw, they had husbands on the premises31. Widows, of course, for whom there was no provision outside the Chipstone poorhouse, were allowed to maintain themselves more manfully than spinsters: but then they were “relicts” of the masculine, had served—so to speak—an apprenticeship32 under it. But the business of plying33 between Chipstone and Bradmarsh was a peculiarly male occupation, and even the venerable name of Daniel Quarles would not have sufficed to shield or install Jinny had she jumped into his place as abruptly35 as Nip was apt to jump into the cart.
No, Rome was not built in a day, nor could Jinny have become the carrier “all of an onplunge,” as Caleb would have put it. That would have shocked the manners and morals of Bradmarsh, both Little and Long, and upset the decorum of Chipstone. A gradual preparation had been necessary, a transition by which Jinny changed into the carrier as imperceptibly as she had ripened37 into the girl. At first the small “furriner”—the carried and not the carrier—reposing in the cart because, after smallpox38 had snatched away both her parents in the same week, her grandfather, who had imported her, had nowhere else to put her; playing in the great canvas-covered playground that held as many heights, depths, and obstacles as a steeplechase course; petted by every client for her helplessness before her helpfulness gave her a second lease of favour; bearing a literally39 larger and larger hand in “Gran’fer’s” transactions as he grew older and older; correcting with cautious tact40 his memories, his accounts, his muddled41 bookings and deliveries, in due course ousting42 the octogenarian even from his place on the driving-board and carrying him first by her side and then inside in his second childhood, just as he had carried her in her first—a stage in which his cackle with the customers carried on the continuity of the male tradition; leaving him at home on bad days—whether his own or Nature’s—and then altogether in the winter, and then altogether in the spring, and then altogether in the autumn, and finally—when he reached his nineties—altogether in the summer; Jinny the Carrier was—it will be seen—a shock so subtly prepared and so long discounted as to have been practically imperceptible. She might crack Daniel’s heavy whip, but nobody felt the flourish as other than vicarious, if not indeed a sort of play-acting evoking43 the pleasure a more sophisticated audience finds in Rosalind’s swashbucklings. Not that she made any brazen44 pretences46 to equality in lifting boxes; she sat with due feminine humility47 while male muscles swelled48 and contracted under her presiding smile and the rippling49 music of her thanks.
Here was, in fact, the prosaic50 purpose of the little horn slung51 at her side—her one apparent embellishment of the tradition: it summoned her slavish superiors so that she might be spared alighting and re-climbing with goods. In face of the accuracy of her operations, this display of helplessness probably helped to remove the sting of an otherwise intolerable feminine sufficiency: it was perhaps the secret of her popularity. Even with the most Lilliputian packets nobody expected Jinny to descend4 and knock at their doors—one blast and old and young tumbled over one another to greet the coming or speed the parting parcel. It was indeed as if a good fairy should condescend52 to do your marketing53, a fairy in a straw bonnet (piquantly tied under the chin in a bow with drooping ends), a fairy whose brilliant smile and teeth and flowing ringlets could convert even an order for jalap into poetry, nay54, induce in the eternal masculine a craving55 for more. In fine, so topsy-turvily had this snail-paced transition worked, so slowly had Jinny’s freedom broadened down from precedent56 to precedent, that when strangers expressed disapproval57 at these mannish courses, Little Bradmarsh was shocked, Long Bradmarsh surprised, and Chipstone scornful. Not that they were at all prepared to argue the question in the abstract. Their prejudice against carrying as a profession for women remained as rooted and unshaken as the critic’s. Women? Who was speaking of women? Jinny was Jinny—a being unique and irreplaceable, “bless her bonny fice.” It contributed to her unquestionability that the Quarleses had been carriers for a hundred years—and more.
II
Nor did Jinny, for her part, generalize on the other side or take any conscious interest in the emancipation58 of her sex. Her horn blew no challenge to the world. It did not even occur to her that she was doing anything out of the common—the tilt-cart had been her nursery, it was now her place of business. She had come into its foreground so unconsciously that it was not as a good fairy that she saw herself, nor even as an attractive asset of the Quarles concern, but as a busy toiler—driven from morning to night rather than driving—and handicapped not only by her household and garden work, her goats and poultry59, but by a nonagenarian grandfather, shaky in health and immovable in opinion. Fortunately for her temper—and for the chastening of a tongue only too a-tingle with rustic61 wit—Jinny regarded the cantankerous62 patriarch as no more an object for back-talk than a suckling. It had become second nature to soothe63 and humour him; and she knew him as she knew the highways and byways in the dark or the snow: where to turn and where to go round, where to skirt a swamp and where to shave a ditch. By way of compensation there was his affection—as primitive64 as Nip’s or Methusalem’s—and evoking as primitive a response. For Jinny was none of your genteel heroines with ethereal emotions and complex aspirations65.
It was not that Nature had not cast her for a poetic66 part—she was small and slender enough, and her light grey eyes behind dark lashes68 sufficiently69 subtilized her expression, and when she was hesitating between two words—not two opinions, for she always had one—her little mouth would purse itself enchantingly. There was gentility too about her toes. As her grandfather remarked with his archaic70 pronouns and plurals71: “That has the smallest fitten I ever saw to a wench!” She certainly did not dress the part, for despite the witchery of the bonnet, her workaday skirt and stout72 shoes proclaimed the village girl, as her hands proclaimed the drudge73 who scoured and scrubbed and baked and dug and manured: indeed what with her own goats and her farmyard commissions, she was almost as familiar with the grosser aspects of animal life as that strangely romanticized modern figure, the hospital nurse. The delicate solicitude74 of Martha on her behalf was thus a pure morbidity75, for in going to and fro like a weaver’s shuttle, Jinny could scarcely remain ignorant that women were as liable to offspring as any other females, though it seemed a part of Nature’s order that had no more to do with herself than the strange, hirsute77 growths on the masculine face—or for the matter of that on Miss Gentry78’s.
Mr. Fallow, the old pastor79 of Little Bradmarsh, who, though despised and rejected of Dissent80, required—being human—comestibles, candles, and shoe-strings from Chipstone, as well as the disposal of his honey and his smaller tithes81, was among Jinny’s favourite clients, her original horror of Bradmarsh Church having been early modified by an accidental peep one weekday morning, which revealed its priest as its sole occupant. Yet, standing in his place in his white surplice, he was going through the service with such devout82 self-forgetfulness that the confused child wondered whether the Satan of worldliness had him so entirely83 gripped as she had been given to understand. She did not know that this very praying all to himself would have shocked Miss Gentry as savouring of the abhorred84 High Churchmanship. Indeed “little better than a Papist” the Chipstone curate had pronounced the harmless old widower85.
He for his part had long admired the little carrier, and perceiving the fine shape of her calloused86 fingers, no less than the smallness of her sturdy shoes, and enjoying the tang of her tongue—for the cottage women, though nimbler than their lords, were not witty—he had indulged his antiquarian vein87 (and the abundant leisure due to the ravages88 of Dissent) by tracing for her a less plebeian89 and more Churchy pedigree. Foiled in the hope of connecting her with Francis Quarles of “Emblems” fame, he found in Norden’s list of the Ancient Halls of Essex a Spring Elm Manor90 appertaining to one Jonathan Quarles. The flockless pastor had even journeyed in quest of this Hall and found illogical confirmation91 in the fact of its continued existence, in all the pride of mullioned windows and lily-strewn if muddy moat, though with its private chapel92 turned into a stable and its piscina bricked over. Henceforward he saw in the exuberant93 vitality94 and imperious obstinacy95 of Daniel Quarles only an impoverished96 reincarnation of hard-living but ecclesiastically correct squiredom97, while in Jinny, with her generous visits to the ailing98 and bed-ridden on her route, he elected to behold99 a re-embodied Lady Bountiful, pride of a feudal100 parish. What was prosaically101 certain, however, was that Jinny had not even the education of Bundock’s bunch of girls, the only school she had ever attended being the Peculiars’ Sunday-school held at a house adjoining the chapel in an interval102 between the services. Thither103, as to the services—her grandfather being a Wesleyan—she had been convoyed regularly by Caleb, packed into a cart with as many of the Flynt boys as had not yet flown off.
But the business itself forced reading and writing upon her, though when its sole responsibility devolved on her, and it was no longer necessary to confute the old man’s memory by the written word or figure, she found herself agreeably able to dispense104 with the learned arts.
Welcomed at lonely farmyards where fierce dogs sometimes broke their chains for the joy of licking her hand or of flying at Nip’s throat; not less welcome in village High Streets, where every other house would ply34 her fussily105 with orders that she took coolly and without a single note, her bosom106 knowledge of everybody’s business and her dramatic interpretation108 of any abnormal commission infusing life into her work that saved her from slips of memory; adored by all the swains and yokels109 who hauled her goods and chattels110 up and down, but radiating only a frosty sunshine in return, for none had ever been able to pass the ice-barrier that separated her private self from her professional geniality111; jumping down herself only to give Christian113 burial to hapless moles114, rats, shrews, leverets, and blood-stained feathers, or to glean115 for lonely old women or the numerous and impoverished Pennymole family the unconscious largesse116 of more careless drivers—turnips, lumps of coal, wisps of hay; chaffering with beaming shopkeepers on behalf of her clients, and hail-fellow-well-met with her fellow-carriers, encountered at cross-roads or “The Black Sheep”; Jinny pursued her unmaidenly career in fine weather or foul117, sometimes wayworn, wind-whipped, rain-drenched, and with aching forehead, but more often with a vital joy that was not least keen when Methusalem—cloud-exhaling and clogged118 by snow that sometimes raised the road as high as the hedges—had to plough his way along a track hewn out by labourers, with here and there a siding cut in the glittering mass for carts to pass each other by. Those were days not devoid119 of danger: road, hedge, ditch, and field obliterated120 in one snowy expanse. Once Jinny’s cart had to be dug out like a crusted fossil of the Ice Age—and only the agonized121 howling of Nip had brought rescue.
III
It was the first time he had justified122 his air of managing the whole concern round which he barked and bounded and scurried123 as though Methusalem and Jinny were his minions124. He had indeed commandeered them—jumping originally out of nowhere on to the tail-board—and however he strayed from the path of their duty in his numberless tangential125 excursions and expeditions, they knew he would never abandon them.
Like many other great characters Nip was a mongrel. His foundation was fox-terrier, and he had preserved the cleverness of the strain without its pluck. To strangers, indeed, he seemed a very David among dogs, attacking, as he sometimes did, canine126 Goliaths. But no dog is a hero to his mistress, and after he had adopted her, Jinny discovered that these resounding127 assaults on the bulkier were but bravado128 passages, based on his flair129 that the bigger dog was also the bigger coward. That was where his brains came in, as well as his baser breed. A sniff131 at a real fighter and Nip would evade132 combat, sauntering off with a nonchalant air. A splash of brown on his brainpan and about his ears, and a dab133 of black on his snout were—with his leathern collar—the sole touches of relief in his sleek134 whiteness. His head—beautifully poised135 and shaped—with its bright dark-brown eye, eloquently136 expressive137 and passing easily from love to greediness, from shyness to shame, invited many a pat from lovers of the soulful. Yet to hear him bolt a rabbit was to imagine a demon138 on the war-path: in a flash the cart would be left a furlong behind or athwart; his raucous139 staccato yells filled the meadows with echoes of blood-lust and revenge. But long experience had dulled Jinny’s solicitude for Bunny: never once was there a sign of a kill. Sometimes, indeed, when Nip was hunting a rat, the creature would run across the path under his very nose, but that nose, pushing eagerly for far-off game, never seemed able to readjust itself to what was under it. All the which maladroitness140 was probably artfulness, Nip scenting141 shrewdly that a successful sports-dog would have been hounded out. He knew well the foolish, treacherous142 heart of his mistress, who actually misled the hunt those autumn mornings that brought the high-mettled hares across their path with ears taut144 and every muscle tragically145 astrain. Up would come the beagles, with a long processional flutter of waving white tails, nosing forlornly and barking dismally147, while he—panting to put them right—was tied paw and paw. How they set him quivering, those horn-tootlings of the gorgeous Master, though they did not go to his bowels148 as much as those staccato chivies that suggested that the green-and-white gentleman was one of themselves rather than a biped, or as those more elaborately contorted cries and rousing thong-cracks of the Whipper-in. A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous149 kind. And when all these hunters—four-footed or two-footed—including the draggletail of fat, breathless farmers and wheezing150 females, were remorselessly sent the wrong way by his brutal152 mistress, the poor dog could not refrain from wailing153.
Even when the hare did not cross her path, her horn, imitating the professional toot, would allure154 and misguide the distant dogs. Nip’s own relatives, the foxhounds, more rarely came his way, but though his mistress’s sympathies with the quarry155 were less marked—her chickens being precious—Nip was still held in. But amid all his disgust the cunning dog remembered that his days of foraging156 for himself—before he had picked up Jinny—had not been rosy157 and replete158: caterers like Jinny, he realized, did not grow on every cart, not to mention the cushioned basket from which he could bark at everything on the road, or within which, with a huge grunt159 of satisfaction, he could curl into an odorous dream.
A contrast in all save colour was the stolid160 Methusalem, though he too was of hybrid161 stock. While his hairy fetlocks proclaimed a kinship with the draught-breed of the shire, he lacked that gross spirit, and while his flying mane and tail flaunted162 an affinity163 with the fiery164 Arab, he was equally deficient165 in that high mettle143. By what romantic episode he had come into being, whether through the wild oats of an Arabian ancestor, or the indiscretion of a mere166 circus-horse, or whether his tossing hair and tail were the heritage from a Shetland pony—as his moderate stature167 suggested—is not recorded in any stud-book. But it was impossible to see him without the word “steed” coming into the mind, and equally impossible to sit behind him without thinking of a plough-horse. “When Oi first see that rollin’ in the brook168 afore ’twas broke in,” Gaffer Quarles would relate, “Oi was minded of the posters of Mazeppa at the Fair, and christened that accordin’.” It was only when he discovered that this blonde beast was a whited sepulchre, that “Mazeppa” was exchanged for “Methusalem,” as though that antediluvian169 worthy170 had always been a doddering millenarian, and not at one time in the prime of his hundreds. The name had at least the effect of banishing171 expectation; his mere amble14 was an agreeable surprise. As a matter of fact Methusalem had still his Mazeppa moments. They came on Tuesday and Friday evenings when he was loosed from the shafts172; at which moments he would roll on his back, kick up his heels and gallop173 madly round the goat-pasture to the alarm of the tethered browsers174. And even at his professional pace he always kept his mane flying. One accomplishment175, however, Methusalem had which no “Mazeppa” steed could have bettered, nay, which made a circus pedigree plausible176. He could lift the latch177 of gates with his nose and walk through. It was a trick which Jinny, with her habit of not alighting, had fostered in him: if the gate did not swing to, she could usually close it with the butt-end of her whip—through the cart-rear at the worst—a procedure which, with her further habit of using short cuts and even private tracks like that at Bellropes Park, saved not a little time, and was some compensation for Methusalem’s general crawl.
If the local carrying business had grown indistinguishable from Jinny, it seemed no less bound up with her four-footed companions, whose ghostly figures, seen looming through the wintry dusk, sent a glow of warmth through the bleak178 countryside.
IV
But to-day Jinny’s horn, Nip’s yap, and Methusalem’s pseudo-spirited pawing, were alike powerless to evoke179 the familiar forth-bustling of Caleb and Martha. Only cocks crowed and doves moaned, while from the river-slope came the lowing of cattle. Alarmed for the lonely and aged180 couple, Jinny jumped down and tapped at the door. Nobody replying, she lifted the latch and came from the joyous181 spring sunshine on a chill, silent piece of hall-way in which even the tall clock had stopped dead. She peeped perfunctorily into the musty parlour on her way to the kitchen—the lozenge-shaped motto: “When He giveth quietness, who then can make trouble?” seemed to have taken on a strange and solemn significance. But she knew that the kitchen was the likeliest lair130, so not pausing to examine, the ominously184 unopened letter addressed to Mrs. Flynt which she espied185 on the mantelpiece, she pressed on to the rear. The kitchen, however, was still more desolate186, not only of the couple, but of the habitual187 glow on the cavernous hearth188. What wonder if Nip, who had followed her, set up an uncanny whining189! She halloaed up the staircase, but that only aggravated190 the silence. She dashed next door to the shepherd’s section—similar solitude191! With a feeling of lead at her heart she rushed back into the ironic192 sunshine and towards the orchard—now unbearably193 beautiful in its blossoming—and as she was approaching a remote corner that harboured the pigsty194 in which Martha’s pet sow carried on a lucrative195 maternity196, she was half relieved to collide with Caleb who was moving houseward with haggard eyes and carpet slippers197.
“Is anything the matter?” she gasped198.
“Sow glad you’ve come. The missus keeps arxing for you. We’ve been up all night with her.”
“With your wife?”
He looked astonished. “Noa, Maria!”
Jinny’s full relief found vent199 in a peal200 of laughter.
“It’s no laughin’ matter—the missus wants ye to tell the wet to come at once.”
“But what’s the matter with her?” inquired Jinny, still unable to rise to his seriousness. “A snout-ache?”
“She’s a goner,” said Caleb solemnly. “We’ve reared up nine boys, but Maria’s been more trouble than the lot. The missus would bring her up by hand, and Oi always prophesied201 she wouldn’t live.”
Amusedly aware that Maria’s progeny202 had already exceeded sixty, Jinny offered to visit the patient.
“Do—that’ll comfort the missus and ye’ll know better what to tell Jorrow. Oi’ll hold your hoss. You know the way—behind the red may-tree.”
Jinny smiled again. The idea of Methusalem needing restraint amused her, but she did not dispel203 Caleb’s romantic illusion.
The sick sty was visible through a half-door that gave at once air and view, and over which Nip at once bounded on to the startled Martha’s back as she hung over the prostrate204 pig on its bed of dirty straw. Maria belonged to the Society of Large Black Pigs, and snuffed the world through a long, fine snout; but life had evidently lost its savour, for the poor sow was turning restlessly.
“Oh, Jinny!” moaned Martha. “She had thirteen last time, and I knew it was an unlucky number.”
“Nonsense!” quoth Jinny gaily205. “Twelve would have been less lucky—at the price I got you!”
“Yes, dearie, but I’m not thinking of prices. She was a birthday present for my loneliness.”
“I know,” said Jinny gently.
“No, you don’t.” She wrung206 her hands. The self-possession Caleb had admired when the letter broke on their lives was no longer hers. “You’ve got lots of Brethren and Sisters, but I’ve got nobody to break bread with, no fraternal gatherings207 to go to, and even Flynt won’t be immersed, though he’s in his sixty-nine and we must all fall asleep some day. So it was a comfort to have Maria following me about everywhere like Nip does you, and I do believe she’s got more sense than the so-called Christians208 here, and would be the first to pray for the peace of Jerusalem with me if she could only speak. But now even Maria may be taken from me. You’ll send Jorrow at once, won’t you, dearie?”
“But what’s the matter with her?”
“Can’t you see? All night she kept rooting up the ground. Oh, I hope it isn’t fever.”
“Rubbish! Look at the skin of her ears. And she isn’t coughing at all. What’s she been overeating?”
“Nothing—only the grass Flynt has been cutting.”
“Why don’t you give her a dose of castor-oil?”
“She won’t take it. She knows we’ve covered it up—I told you she’s got as much brains as a Christian.”
“Let me try and get it down.”
“It is down. The piglets ate the mess up.”
“Oh dear!” laughed Jinny. “That will need Jorrow. Anything else, Mrs. Flynt?”
“I can’t think this morning. Ask Flynt.”
Caleb, however, proved equally distraught.
“There was summat extra special, Oi know,” he said, his red-shirted arm clinging heroically to Methusalem’s bridle209, “for here’s the knot in my hankercher. But what it singafies Lord onny knows.”
“It wasn’t a new shirt?” she suggested slyly.
He shook his head. “Noa, noa; this keeps her colour as good as new. But the missus did make a talk about my Sunday neckercher.”
“I’ll get you a new one. Plain or speckled?”
“Oi leaves that to you, Jinny—you know more about stoylish things.”
V
On her winding210 and much-halting way to Chipstone, Jinny took advantage of the absence of the noble family and the complaisance211 of her customer, the lodge-keeper, to smuggle212 her plebeian vehicle through Bellropes Park, which was not only a mile shorter, but dodged213 the turnpike with its aproned harpy of a tollman; she loved the great avenues of oaks, and the shining lake, the game of swans, and the sense of historic splendour; and Nip, as if with a sense of stolen sweets, sniffed214 never more happily, though when they got within view of the water, he had to be summoned back to his headquarters-basket by a stern military note, a combat between himself and the swans not commending itself to his mistress. Some of these irascible Graces floated now on the margin215, meticulously216 picking their tail-feathers, contorting their necks. But vastly more exciting were those of the flock far out on that spacious217 sparkle of brown water. They seemed to be going spring-mad and threshing the scintillating218 water with their wings, oaring219 themselves thus along, each one infecting the other, till the water itself seemed to be leaping in a shimmering220 frenzy221 of froth. Even the ducks reared up or stood on their heads in a sort of intoxication222. And this sense of the joy and beauty of the spring communicated itself to the girl, not in jubilance, but in some exquisite223 wistfulness: some craving of the blood for mysterious adventure. Something seemed calling at once out of the past and out of the future. And then her thoughts wandered back to Frog Farm and the Flynts and the far-scattered youths with whom she had formerly224 ridden to Sunday-school, and suddenly by a flash from her subconsciousness225 she recognized the writing of the unopened letter on Martha’s mantelpiece: of the letter she had scarcely looked at. Surely, though the curves were bolder, it was the work of the very same male hand that had written on the fly-leaf of a Peculiar hymn226-book the inspired quatrain—which she had admired from her childhood—beginning:
Steal not this book for fear of shame:
an admonition she thought peculiarly appropriate to the holy book it guarded. And with the memory of the fly-leaf surged up also the face—the long-forgotten, freckled227 face of the youngest and most headstrong of the Flynt boys: the Will, flouted228 as “Carrots,” but in her opinion the handsomest of the batch229, who had always loomed230 over her with such grown-up if genial112 grandeur231, and had given her his bull-roarer and threaded birds’ eggs for her before she had come to think their collection wicked. What a hullabaloo when the boy disappeared—he must have been hardly thirteen, she began computing—and she, the child of nine or so who could have comforted the distracted Martha, had dared say no word, because he had made her swear on that very hymn-book to keep his flight silent. Just as she was permeated232 by the solemnity of the book and the oath on it, he had thrown it away, she remembered, thrown it into the bushes from the wagon233 in which he was driving her home from chapel.
The details of that forgotten summer Sunday began to come back: most vividly234 of all, the boy struggling and sobbing235 when his buttons were cut off. He had been so proud of his new velvet236 jacket with its manifold rows of blue buttons, and lo! after Sunday-school his father had appeared with a somewhat crestfallen237 look and a pair of scissors, saying, “You don’t want all this flummery,” while Elder Mawhood—evidently the admonishing238 angel—had stood grimly by, intoning “Pride is abominable239. Wanity must be rooted out.”
The boy had choked back his sobs240, and apparently241 found solace242 in the evening hymns243, and was further soothed244 by being allowed at his own request to drive the party home. It was felt—especially by Martha—some compensation for the buttons was due to him. Thus when the wagon had reached Swash End and the bulk of the Flynt family got off according to custom—mud and weather permitting—and walked up to Frog Farm, leaving Jinny to be driven round the long detour245 to her home at Blackwater Hall, she was left alone with Will.
It was then that, having asked her if she could keep a secret and being assured she could, he informed her to her admiring horror that the moment he had safely delivered her on the road by the Common, he would turn his horse’s head for Harwich, where (stabling the horse and wagon so that his parents might trace his intention) he would take ship as a cabin-boy or a stowaway246 for America, where he was sure to come across his brother Ben, and never would she see him again in Bradmarsh till he had made his fortune.
She could see him now, under a late sunset that was like his hair, with his flashing, freckled face, his blazing blue eyes, and his poor, defaced jacket, the thready stubs of the big buttons showing like scars. Their quaint247 dialogue came back vividly to her.
“Oh, Will, but can’t you make your fortune here?”
“No, thank you—no more chapel for me!”
“I know it’s hard—and you did look beautiful with the buttons—but isn’t it more beautiful to please God?”
“Rubbish! What does God care about my buttons?”
“He’s pleased, just as I like your giving me birds’ eggs.”
“But I didn’t give my buttons—they were snatched from me—through that, beastly old Mawhood.”
“But Elder Mawhood knows what God wants.”
“Let him cut off his own nose and not go smelling into everybody’s business. The other day he made poor old Sister Tarbox get riddy of her cat.”
“That was kindness, because it had to be shut up alone all Sunday while she was at chapel.”
“I believe it was only to make more rats for him to kill.”
“That’s not true, Will. You know Sister Tarbox is too poor to have her cottage cleared.”
“Well, let him look after his rats and cats—not me.”
“An elder must do his duty.”
“I hate elders and deacons and hymn-books. Yah! I’m done with religion, thank God.”
“Oh, Will, you mustn’t speak like that!”
“Fancy stewing248 in chapel in weather like this!”
“Isn’t this just the weather to thank God for?”
“No—it’s all silliness.”
“Oh, Will!”
“Yes, it is! You ask Brother Bundock—I don’t mean old Mr. Bundock. I asked him once who wrote our hymn-book and he said, ‘’Twixt you and I, the village idiot!’?”
“You are talking wickedly, Will”—there were tears in the voice now. “You mustn’t run away, that’s more wicked.”
“Oh—I was an idiot myself to tell you. You are going to peach on me, I suppose.”
“Peach?”
“Tell your grandfather about my running away.”
“Not if you don’t do it.”
“But I shall do it! And you promised to keep the secret. To tell would be more wicked than me.”
“I won’t tell, but you mustn’t go.”
“I must. Swear not to betray me. Kiss my hymn-book.”
It was with some soothed sense of restored sanctities that she had pressed her lips to the holy cover—she still remembered its smell and taste, salted with a tear of her own—but what a fresh and mightier249 shock, that throwing of the book into the bushes!
“Stop! Stop!” She heard the little girl’s horror-struck cry over the years; remembered how, as he laughed and drove on furiously with her, the phrase “drive like the devil” had come to her mind, charged for the first time with meaning.
Wilful250 boy had had his way: he had escaped from England and even—despite his diabolism—by the aid of the ninepence she had insisted on bringing down from her money-box while he waited trustfully outside her grandfather’s domain251. But she had not responded in kind to the lordly kiss he had blown her as he drove off to America.
“Good-bye, little Jinny!”
“Good-bye, Will. Say your prayers!”
“Not me!”
“Then I shall pray for you!”
When the hue252 and cry was out, and bellmen were busy with his carroty head and velvet jacket with the buttons cut off, little Jinny had also gone a-hunting—but for the outraged253 hymn-book. It lay now still hidden in a drawer—the one secret of her life—unmentioned even when by the bulky clue of the horse and cart the fugitive254 had been traced, as he designed.
Yes, she must disinter this hymn-book of his from its hiding-place, compare the inscription—she knew by now the rhyme was not original—with her memory of Martha’s letter. What was its postmark, she wondered. Well, she would find that out, indeed the whole contents, on her return to Frog Farm. Perhaps he was coming back—his fortune already made. And the revived sense of his wickedness was mixed with a sense of her own soon-forgotten resolve—or threat—to pray for him, and was blurred255 in some strange emotion, in which the glamorous256 freshness of child-feeling mingled257 with a leaping of the heart that was like the spring-joy of the swans.
VI
But Jorrow could not make the journey that day to that remote farm. There were more important animals more expensively endangered and more easily accessible. Old sows were so fussy258, and to judge by the symptoms it was a mere case for castor-oil. But precisely259 because Jinny had herself recommended this drug-of-all-work she felt unconvinced: it seemed a mere glib260 formula for being “riddy” of her. There was another resource, Elijah Skindle, who, having settled in Chipstone only five years ago, practised only among parvenus261 like himself. It was not because he was a “furriner,” nor even because he had started as a knacker and still had a nondescript status, that Jinny shrank from calling him in now: she had more than once deposited damaged dogs with him or deported262 them mended. But she objected to the appraising263 gaze he fixed264 upon her on these occasions, though to be sure her objection to these jaunts265 was not so strong as Nip’s, who, seeing in every canine co-occupant of the cart a possible supplanter266, bristled267 and whined268 and barked till the rival was safely discharged. But, on her way home, overcoming her repugnance—for Martha’s sake, if not Maria’s or duty’s—she stopped her cart outside his pretentious269 black gauze blind and blew a rousing blast. A tall, black-eyed, grey-haired woman, issuing from the office door with a broom, who appeared to be Mr. Skindle’s mother, informed her that ’Lijah was “full up”: however, he could be found at the kennels270 if Jinny insisted on seeing him. She pointed271 vaguely272 to a field behind the house, visible through an unpaved alley273 yawning between the sober Skindle window and its flamboyant275 neighbour, the chemist’s. But it was in vain that Jinny clucked to Methusalem to thread the alley. The beast refused absolutely.
Alighting with some dim understanding of his instinct, she walked to the field-gate over which a horse was gazing at her. Lifting the latch, she wandered among other happily scampering276 horses in search of the kennels, finding at first only a barn-like structure, a glance through whose doors at the flagstoned paving that sloped to a centre turned her sick. For a pyramid of horses’ feet was the least repulsive277 indication, though even the homely278 skewers279 so agreeable to Squibs took on a sinister280 hue. The spectacle, however, served to make the kennels, when at last discovered, a lesser281 horror. But it was the first time she had seen dogs so far gone in distemper, and these rheumy-eyed skeletons, each chained in its niche282, sullied the springtide and haunted her for days. She caught up Nip, who had come to heel, as though he too might pine suddenly into skin and bone. Nip himself, it must be confessed, regarded these shadows of his species with indifference283, if not with satisfaction, as negligible competitors.
Elijah Skindle, discovered on his knees in the act of feeding a pathetic poodle, was as unstrung by the sight of Jinny as Jinny by the sight of the dogs. His black cutty pipe fell from his lips and he nearly stuck the dog’s spoon into his own open mouth. But mastering himself, and without raising his cap or his pipe or changing his attitude, he gasped out: “Hullo! Nip ill?”
Jinny replied curtly—for there was a familiarity that repelled285 her in his calling Nip by his right name—, “No, a sow at Frog Farm—Little Bradmarsh, you know.”
His heart leapt. Frog Farm meant an old inhabitant, local prejudice was then beginning to melt at last! But, “Rather out of my radius,” he said with pretended indifference. “Besides,” as he reached for his pipe, “my nag60’s gone lame286.”
“I could give you a lift,” said Jinny, outwitted for once, since it never struck her that this was precisely what Elijah had fished for and why he had lamed287 his beast. The spoon trembled in his hand, but he replied grumblingly288, “But then I should have to come at once.”
“I’m afraid so,” said Jinny.
Mr. Skindle rose and brushed his knees. “Anything to oblige a lady,” he said.
“It isn’t me, it’s Maria,” said Jinny icily.
VII
But Jinny was not altogether outman?uvred, for while Mr. Skindle was getting his case of utensils289, she filled up the rest of her seat—it was a stuffed seat covered with sacking—by means of a peculiarly precious parcel, needing a vigilant290 eye: no new device this, but her habitual protection against bores or adorers, and Skindle, she feared, was both. This swain-chaser or maid-protector was kept in a corner of the cart ready for emergencies, being an elongated291 package of stones, marked “Fragile.” The stones had to be jagged and uncouth292 or Nip would have squatted293 on it and roused suspicion. This was the only parcel she lifted herself, and it figured in her own mind as “The Scarecrow.”
And so, despite Mr. Skindle’s offer to nurse it on his knees, she put him behind her—not as a Satan, for his seductiveness was small. He had, it is true, a good styside manner, and his slim figure, outlined by a trimly cut pepper-and-salt suit, effused a sense of vitality. But his straw-coloured moustache, which was not without its female votaries294, was for Jinny more of a puzzle than a decoration, for she could not reconcile its flowingness with the desolating295 baldness that any shifting of his cap revealed. His cranium was, in fact, like the advertisement of a hair-restorer in the picture preceding the application thereof. As fixed a feature of his face as the grey cap which concealed297 his calvity was the black cutty pipe stuck in his stained teeth, nor had Jinny ever seen him without a large pearl horseshoe pin in his tie.
“Please don’t smoke,” she said, as he climbed in by the tail-board, “Gran’fer would smell it.”
“And why shouldn’t he?”
“He’s a Wesleyan.”
“Oh!” He laughed without comprehension, a shade scoffingly298.
“And the smell might get into people’s parcels,” she added.
Bestowing299 himself under the tilt as well as he could on a box, grazed at his side by a ledge107 he considered too narrow to sit on, and threatened with decapitation through a plank300 holding the smaller parcels that ran athwart the cart just above his head, Mr. Skindle gazed up over this shelf at the glorious view of the back of Jinny’s bonnet and feasted his eyes on her graceful301 dorsal302 curves and the more variegated303 motions of her driving arm, not to mention the succession of lovely rural backgrounds made for her figure by the arch of the awning274. And his ill-humour melted, and though his pipe grew cold his heart began to glow. But Jinny took no more notice of him than if he had been himself a box. No wonder he began to feel closed and corded up, bursting though he knew himself to be with soul-riches. For a full mile, his extinct pipe in his teeth, he heard only the monotonous304 snap of Methusalem’s hoofs305 as if everything along the road was snapping in a frost. The unjaded steed had actually started off at almost a trot306, and as the Gaffer explained once, “a hoss what has long lopes knocks his fitten together.” Then—as if to mark how completely her passenger was forgotten—one of her grandfather’s songs began to steal from her lips. It was not “High Barbary” nor “Admiral Benbow,” nor yet his favourite “Oi’m seventeen come Sunday,” which the nonagenarian sang daily with growing conviction. It was—and Nip would have been the first to be surprised, had he understood it—the old English air:
The hunt is up, the hunt is up, and it is wellnigh day,
And Harry307 our King has gone huntynge, to bring the deer to bay.
Perhaps it was the influence of her horn; perhaps she was an artist who could enjoy in song what she could not suffer in life. Or perhaps she loved the lilt of the old song and never thought of the meaning, or only of the bravery of the spectacle and the gay coming of the dawn. For, all untrained as she was, she vibrated peculiarly to music, and one of the wonderful moments of her young life was when she first heard a hymn sung in parts at the Sunday-school; to her ear, accustomed only to the solo quavering of the Gaffer, was revealed harmony; a starry308 new universe and a blood-tickling enchantment309 in one.
Almost at the first outbreak of the hunting song Nip appeared at a run, and with two bounds he established himself in his mistress’s lap—invidiously enough in Elijah’s eyes. For that silvery little voice, rippling along the lonely road with the unconscious joyance of a blackbird’s, completed the spell which the spring landscape—seen in that series of pictures framed by the arch of the tilt—was weaving on the doomed310 veterinary surgeon.
There were sheep, big and little, lying in the wide fields and great, newly ploughed spaces of red, freshly turned earth—for the first time Elijah felt the scarecrows as a degradation311 of all this primeval beauty. Apple-trees flowered in the cottage gardens and in the hedges was early May-blossom, and on the brinks primroses312, anemones313, and even a few precocious314 bluebells315 rioted in an intoxicating316 fertility of beauty. Larks317 rose palpitating with song, bumble-bees boomed, butterflies flittered, and ever and anon came the haunting cry of the cuckoo. And when Jinny’s voice soared up too, Elijah Skindle’s heart seemed melting down his spine318.
VIII
“That’s a lucky dog of yours,” he said desperately319, when the music ceased.
“That’s what I thought at your place,” she replied through the back of her head.
“Not had distemper yet?”
He saw her shoulders shudder320. There was an awkward silence.
“You know I’d gladly look after him gratis,” he blundered on, “and you too.” Then, in a horrible consciousness of the pathological implication, he awaited the lash67 of her tongue.
But she must have been abstracted. For she only said politely: “Thanks very much. But I always go to Jorrow’s.”
Yes, he reflected bitterly, and always went there for other people unless Skindle’s was expressly stipulated321.
But they were now approaching the first village after Chipstone, and the outside world intruded322 on the idyll. A dozen times he vaulted323 up and down to prevent interloping young men—sometimes armed with nosegays—receiving parcels too proximately; and he had a proud and malicious324 pleasure in their disconcerted unspoken surmise325 as to his privileged situation. The small coin of conversation appertaining to these deliveries Jinny did not refuse him, and every cluck she gave to Methusalem, every ripple326 of laughter on her busy way, deepened the spell. The unexpected faces; the quaint cottage interiors; the cheerful-smiling women in high green aprons327 who received stay-laces or bobbins, sugar or tea-packets, in bare dough-powdered or soap-frothed arms; the panting figures that tolled328 after the cart with forgotten bundles; the dogs—the fiercer in their barrels and boxes, the milder waving free and friendly tails; the quaint commissions and monitions, the salutations and farewells—“I’ll remember the twopence,” “And tell my brother, won’t you, about the christening,” “I don’t want any more of her puddings, they put the miller’s eye out”—all this fascinating bustle329 and chatter330, spiced with friendly laughter, seemed to belong to an enchanted331 earth of which gaiety was the ground-note, not animal groaning332. The windings333 of her horn completed his sense of fairyland.
In the remoter woodland regions he was possessed334 alternately with a disapprobation of her recklessness in trusting herself thus alone with a male, far from help, and a surprise at his own passivity in so provoking and romantic a situation. Of course he was going to behave like the gentleman he was, but why was she so irritatingly sure of it? Did she think he wasn’t flesh and blood? She might at least show some consciousness of his chivalry335!
But his resentment336 at her professional nonchalance337 only served to confirm his long-standing suspicion that here at last was the girl for him: that he was choosing well if not wisely. Doubtless Chipstone and his mother would say he was marrying too much beneath him. But look at the farmers’ daughters—what lumps beside her! He admitted, of course, that the Blanche of Foxearth Farm to whom his mother mainly aspired338 was an exception, but then this Purley minx was hopelessly out of reach, stuck up on her pedestal of beauty, conceit339, and culture, and throwing over even her affianced wooers. As for his neighbour, the chemist’s girl—what could his mother see in her except that annuity340 which would not even survive her, and she not looking particularly strong! No, with the present satisfactory amount of sheep-rot, glanders, and distemper he could afford to please himself. And if Jinny couldn’t play the piano like the land-surveyor’s widow, why one must content oneself with the horn, pending341 initiation342 into the higher life. Together they would work up the business. With Jinny’s connexion—though of course she must give up carrying and become a lady—there would surely be a trail of sick beasts in her wake: Jorrow would soon be out-distanced. They would live away from his office; that could all be turned into dog-hospital.
Such were the kennels in the air built by the enamoured Elijah as he sat on boxes or hampers343 or panted under their weight in his officious deliveries: an officiousness which drove out of her head the keg of oil destined344 for Uckford Manor.
“Oh, dear!” she murmured suddenly, a mile later.
Forcing the explanation from her, he cried joyfully345, “Let’s go back.”
Jinny shook her head. “No time,” she said, and flicked346 at Methusalem.
“But I don’t mind being late.”
“I’m not thinking of you—but of the pig.”
“Bother the pig.”
“Is that the way you study your patients?”
“I’ve got better things to study.” He could only say it to her back, but he threw enough intensity347 into it to come out on the other side of her.
“Indeed!” The back seemed impenetrable. “You going into another business?”
“Why ever should I when I’m getting on so famously—ten pound a week, if a penny.” It was an opportunity made to his hand. “I know,” he went on, as the back remained rigid348, “that folks pretend it’s not as high-class as real doctoring, but believe me it needs more brains.”
“Does it?”
“Stands to reason. A human being can tell you what he feels and where the pain lays, but with a dumb beast you’ve got only your own sense and skill to go on: it’s us vets349 that should really be at the top of the profession.”
“But sick babies are dumb too,” Jinny reminded him.
“Sick babies have talking mammas,” he replied genteelly.
Jinny did not imitate them, and silence fell again, tempered by Methusalem’s snappings. Really, it was very awkward, Elijah felt, thus proposing to a girl behind her back. But he struggled gallantly350. “Take stomach staggers now—if those horses you saw waiting to be killed this evening had been treated in time——!”
“The horses in your field?” cried Jinny, shocked. “But they looked so lively.”
“They’re all like that,” he explained. “Once out of harness they get a bit jaunty351 again, but they’re worth more dead than alive.”
“It’s dreadful killing352 off a horse that has served one!” Jinny burst out. “Just for a few shillings!”
“A few shillings? Why there’s horses over two-fifty pounds! Flesh, I mean,” he explained, with a chuckle353. “Not to mention the skin, hair and bones. Why, there’s eighty pounds of intestines354 for sausage-skins!”
“Oh, do hold your tongue!” cried Jinny, feeling sick again.
“Yes, and what about his tongue!” retorted Elijah triumphantly355. “It ain’t only Frenchies that get that. And his tail waving for funerals! And his hoofs in your own shoe-buttons!”
Jinny felt indeed as though hoofs had descended356 on her feet, and she could almost have sacrificed Methusalem’s high-waving tail to adorn357 her passenger’s obsequies.
“My neighbour, the chemist—he buys the blood!” continued the ghoulish Elijah. “He makes it into——”
But just here at a cross-road Jinny’s horn signalled to a smart young man in a velvet waistcoat, who was driving a trap, and brought him to a standstill. Would Barnaby deliver a keg of oil at Uckford Manor if he was passing that way?
That Manor was, it transpired358, the one goal and purpose of Barnaby’s journey.
Jinny—well aware young Purley was homeward bound for Foxearth Farm—gave him a radiant smile, and Elijah threw him the keg and a furious look, a reliable fellow-feeling informing him that the velvety359 liar30 was going at least two miles out of his way. Downright dishonest he felt it, seeing that neither the young man’s time nor his trap was his own, but belonged to his father, the hurdle-maker. But what could you expect of Blanche’s brother? Let Jinny beware of the family fickleness360, let her lean on a less showy but manlier361 breast.
“I wonder you don’t arrange your things village by village instead of letting ’em lay all over the vehicle,” he observed as she drove on.
“I shan’t forget where to drop you,” came the answer over her cold shoulder.
Then silence fell more painfully than ever, and the monotonous tick-tack of Methusalem maddened his conscious ear. The monstrous362 possibility began to loom10 up that Jinny’s affections were pre-engaged to some one of these numerous young men. His eye fell upon a coil of rope hung round a loose hoop363 of the tilt, and morbid76 thoughts of using it—whether on the young men or himself was not clear—floated vaguely in his usually serene364 soul. Presently he noted365 other coils on other ribs366, and their plurality suggested it was for the young men, not himself, that rope was appropriate. What else were they there for, he wondered dully? Yes, let her fiancés go hang: engagements could always be broken off—nothing venture, nothing have!
To nerve himself for the great question he took advantage of the pause at Long Bradmarsh while Methusalem was drinking at the trough of “The King of Prussia.” But this imitation of Methusalem on a stronger fluid was fatal, for in Jinny’s persistent367 silence, the animal’s tick-tacks now grew soothing368: he settled himself more comfortably on the emptier floor of the cart, with his head on a soft bundle, and watched the nape of Jinny’s neck till it faded into a great white sea of floating ice. He was struggling in it for hours, but at last the cold waves passed over his head, and Jinny, turning to throw out a parcel, saw that his cap had fallen off in his writhings, leaving his baldness almost indecently glaring.
So deep was he in his daymare that he was quite unaware369 of Jinny’s colloquy370 with another male whom her horn had hailed as they passed over the bridge to Little Bradmarsh. Not that there was anything in Ephraim Bidlake to excite apprehension371, for he was a stalwart Peculiar, safely married, and residing with his family and two twin-nieces of his wife’s—Sophy and Sally—on board the billyboy whose great boomless black sail Jinny had espied darkening the water with its shadow. Bidlake’s barge372 was a cross between a Norfolk wherry and a ferry-boat, and plied284 up and down the Brad, loading at the wharves373 with its half-lowered mast for crane, or carrying man and cattle across the bridgeless sections when it had nothing better to do. There was not much money coming in at the best, and it was often Jinny’s privilege to eke374 out the barge’s larder375 under pretence45 of presents for the motherless Sophy and Sally, so tragically fathered. For Ephraim Bidlake, a shaggy giant with doglike eyes, had brought the “little furriners” from Hampshire when their mother died after their father—Mrs. Bidlake’s brother—had been transported to Botany Bay for burning a rick in some old agricultural riot against the introduction of machinery376. The blot377 on their scutcheon had been concealed from the new neighbourhood, but had been gradually confided378 by Mrs. Bidlake to Jinny with protestations of her brother’s innocence379—had he not been made a constable380 in the very convict ship? By degrees, too, she had conveyed to the girl a vivid picture of the trial and deportation381. For the devoted382 sister had walked the bulk of the way to Winchester, in the hope of proving his innocence by collecting testimonies383 to his character, and had joined the mob of weeping women who hung round the gaol384 gates night and day, or crowded the court, only to witness the sanctimonious385 cruelty of the bewigged judges, and the tragic146 exodus386 of the damned in the prison coach, guarded by a file of soldiers, to lie in the hulks at Southampton till they were shipped to savage387 Australia, there to be assigned to brutal stockowners. It was an experience which had cost Mrs. Bidlake dear; her next child had been stillborn, and to this day she had never reared but one more infant, and that a still delicate one. But for the comfort of the Peculiar faith it would have been a cheerless household. She was now again brought to bed: it was to inquire about her that Jinny had hailed the barge, and very sad she was to learn from Brother Bidlake—when he had punted within earshot—that the new baby had succumbed388 after a few hours, though the “missus,” thank God, was recovering and the twins were “wunnerful good and helpful.” She was not sorry, however, that the undoctored infant had departed with a precipitation which rendered an inquest unlikely, for inquests were the bane of the Brotherhood389.
IX
It was twilight390 when Methusalem drew up again before the twin doors. This time Caleb did not fail.
“Sow glad you ain’t brought the wet!”
“But I have—he’s snoring inside,” Jinny called down.
“Lord!” said Caleb, taking another look. “Oi did see his head, but by this owl-light Oi thought ’twas a cheese.”
Jinny’s laugh rippled391 out and Elijah Skindle started up and sneezed. He looked round dazedly392 for his cap.
“We’ve arrived?” he asked shamefacedly, clapping it on.
“Yes,” said Jinny, “but the pig’s all right. I fear you’ve had a wasted journey.” She jumped down.
“Wasted?” He sat up ardently393. “Don’t say wasted.”
“A good nap is a comfort,” she agreed.
“I may have dozed394 off—your singing rocked me to sleep, I reckon. But all the while I’ve been trying to tell you——” His voice broke.
“I know,” she said softly. “I heard you.”
“Did I talk in my sleep?” he asked innocently.
“Through your nose.”
He winced395 as at a blow on it. “That’s—that’s nature,” he stammered396: “I don’t suppose even females are free from snoring.”
“Maria isn’t,” observed Jinny, patting Methusalem.
Martha hurried out happily, with a piece of sugar for the same favoured beast.
“Maria’s been walking with me!” she cried rapturously.
“And eating hearty,” added Caleb. “If you ask me, she was drunk.”
“Oh, Flynt!” cried Martha. “Aren’t you ashamed to speak like that about your own pig; and before strangers?”
“But that rolled and kicked last night same as a sow Oi seen once that swallowed a thick wine. Happen Maria got swillin’ at old Peartree’s beer-barrel!”
“How could she do that?” Jinny protested.
“Turned on the tap like a Christian. Same as your Methusalem opens our gate.”
Elijah picked up his pipe and his cap and scrambled397 down. “Appears to me I’ve been brought here under false pretences.”
“We’ll pay you all the same,” said Caleb with dignity.
“But how am I to get back to Chipstone?” He had followed Maria in reckless abandonment, and now came the prose of life with its questions.
“If we’re going to pay the gentleman,” put in Martha, “he may as well have a look at Maria.”
Mr. Skindle agreed it was as well to make a possible future patient’s acquaintance, but repeated his inquiry398.
“There’s Shanks’s mare,” said Jinny blandly399.
Caleb pointed towards the brook. “It’s onny seven miles by Swash End through Plashy Walk.”
“Plashy Hall has a dog,” objected Elijah.
“Well, you’re used to dogs,” said Jinny.
“My instrument-case is too heavy. You’ll have to give me a lift to your house.”
“With pleasure,” she said. “But Blackwater Hall is still farther from Chipstone.”
“Anyhow I can get a trap from the village,” he said firmly.
“No, you can’t, and even if you walk to Long Bradmarsh it’s a toss-up if you’ll get anything at ‘The King of Prussia.’?”
“Well, take me as far as the bridge—I’ll pay extra.”
“I can’t guarantee Methusalem will go back.”
“That’s all right,” he said cheerfully. “Horses know I stand no nonsense. And now, Uncle, as soon as I’ve lit my pipe, I’ll be ready for the pig. Got a match?”
To his disgust, Caleb produced a lucifer and a phial of sulphuric acid for dipping it in. The now well-established friction400 matches—that boon401 to the idle and extravagant—had not yet reached Frog Farm, where even flint and steel had been dispossessed but slowly. But the relit pipe was comforting.
“Wait a moment, Mr. Flynt,” said Jinny, tendering a packet as he started convoying the vet182. “Your neckerchief!”
“Neckerchief!” cried Martha. “And what about my new bonnet?”
“?’Twas only to be cleaned,” Caleb reminded her. “And by the same token, mother, don’t forget we settled the wet was to read the letter.”
Elijah raised his eyebrows402.
“Ah, yes—I’ll get it.” And Martha hurried within.
“You see, Jinny,” Caleb explained, “the missus got a letter from Cousin Caroline, and we thought the gentleman here could make one job of it with the pig.”
“But why can’t I read it?”
“You ain’t married.”
“No more is Mr. Skindle.” Elijah flushed furiously.
“Noa—but ef it’s too—too womanish, Oi’ll arx him kindly403 to break it to me, sow Oi can break it to the missus when he’s gone.”
“Is this the letter?” asked Jinny, as Martha reappeared with it.
“That’s her—came all of an onplunge,” he repeated.
“But that’s not from your Cousin Caroline!” said Jinny, with a thrill of excitement as she took it.
“Noa?” gasped Caleb, as if the world was tumbling about his ears. Then he smiled. “You’re making game—you ain’t opened her yet.”
“But who else is it from?” cried Martha, catching404 her excitement.
“Can’t you see? It’s from Will.”
“Will!” Martha gave a great cry, and clutched at the letter. “My baby Will!”
Caleb scratched his head. “Now which would be Will?”
“Will was the freckled, good-looking one,” said Jinny.
“Oh, Jinny,” said Martha. “They were all good-looking—took after Flynt. Dear heart, you can’t ha’ forgotten our tot after all that flurry. ’Tis only seven or eight years since he——”
“Ay, ay,” cried Caleb. “Him what mowed405 the cat’s whiskers.”
“No, dear heart, that was Ben.”
“To be sure. Ben’s the barber in New York—or some such place.”
“No, Caleb. That’s Isaac.”
“Isaac? Then Will ’ud be the one what married the coffee-coloured lady.”
“I told you the other day that was Christopher.”
“Ay, him in Australia.”
“Africa surely,” put in Elijah, puffing406 at his pipe with superior amusement.
“They furrin places be much of a muchness,” said Caleb. “And my buoy-oys were as like as a baker’s dozen.”
“There were girls in the batch,” corrected Martha. “But how you can forget that dreadful Sunday night, you who snipped407 the darling’s buttons——!”
“If I don’t see the pig soon,” interrupted Elijah, losing patience, “the light’ll be gone altogether.”
“Oi’ll git a lantern,” said Caleb placidly408. “Oi often used to set and wonder how they lads knowed theirselves, the one from the ’tother. Well, the Lord bless ’em all, says Oi, wherever they goo, and whichever they be.”
“So you see,” said Jinny, with a faint blush hardly visible by owl-light, “there’s no need to waste Mr. Skindle’s time over the letter.”
“No more there ain’t!” said Caleb dazedly. “Come along, sir!”
X
But Martha still clung strangely to the letter she had snatched back. “You mustn’t strain your eyes, Jinny,” she said. “I’ll light the lamp. And you’ll take a cup of tea first. You must be tired out.”
“But I can see quite well,” said Jinny. Indeed the sky, despite the risen moon, remained blue, and splashes of dying sunset burned magically through the yet empty branches of the quiet trees. There was a great sense of space and peace and beauty: a subtle waft410 from the stacks; the note of the thrush was full of evening restfulness. Jinny took the letter from the reluctant Martha.
“He must be back in England!” she cried. “Look at the stamp.”
Martha staggered against the cart. “It’s very good of God,” she said simply.
Her emotion communicated itself to Jinny. Through misty411 eyes the girl watched a solitary412 heron winging on high through the great spaces, its legs sticking out like a tail.
“Ah, dearie,” said Martha, recovering herself, “never forget, to say your prayers.”
“I don’t,” said Jinny with equal simplicity413. But she remembered with fresh remorse151 that she had forgotten those for the runaway414.
“Ever since I was a little girl,” said Martha, “I’ve wanted to please God. But of late, Jinny, I fear I’ve wanted Him to please me.”
“Well, now He has,” said Jinny. “You’ll have Will as well as Maria,” and plucking out a hairpin415 she inserted it to rip open the loose wafer-closed envelope.
“Stop!” cried Martha. “Suppose it’s bad news.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Flynt! Look how firm the writing is.”
“Firm—yes, he always was firm—even before he drove off with the cart. Don’t you remember that night—no, ’twas before your grandfather fetched you to these parts—he wasn’t seven, but that pig-headed he sulked in the wood all night—roosted up a tree like a bird, and never a move or a word when we came halloaing with torches!”
“Well, he’s not hiding now, for the postmark’s London and——”
“No, don’t open it yet, Jinny—suppose he should be married like Christopher!”
Jinny laughed uneasily. “Two black daughters-in-law aren’t very likely. Much more likely she’ll be blonde.”
“No, he can’t be married,” said Martha on reflection. “He never could abide416 girls. I don’t mean you, dearie; you scarcely had your second teeth, had you?”
Jinny began to rip the envelope. “We shall soon see.”
But Martha snatched away the letter again. “I’m sure you’ll spoil your pretty eyes,” she persisted. “Day-stars, Will called ’em once.”
Jinny laughed still more uneasily. “Then I ought to be able to read by ’em. But I’ll light my night-star.” And she moved towards the cart-lamp.
“It isn’t your lighting-up time yet, is it? You don’t want to be wasteful417.”
“Well, come in and light me a candle a moment.”
“You seem in a great hurry to read it!” said Martha fretfully.
“Me?” Jinny flushed furiously. “I thought you’d want to hear what he says.”
“Don’t I know what he says? That he is in England again and coming to see his old mother? Isn’t that enough for one night?”
“It’s a great deal, certainly. But suppose—he wants something.”
“Ah, that’s true!” Martha was visibly perplexed418. She did not herself understand the suddenly awakened419 jealous instinct that resented Jinny’s superior acquaintance with Will’s handwriting, that was subconsciously420 urging her to hug this letter to her bosom and not share its sacred contents with a girl she at last—especially after Bundock’s recent innuendo—realized as grown-up, and who seemed, moreover, to be claiming a co-proprietorship. And so it was difficult for her to frame an objection satisfactory to her conscious intelligence. But the letter was now in her possession, and that was a strong asset for her subconsciousness.
“?’Tis a pity to tear open such a beautiful envelope,” she said. “You have your cup o’ tea. I’ll steam it over the kettle.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t time for tea, especially having to take Mr. Skindle a bit back,” said Jinny, almost as mystified as Martha herself. “I’m late already, and Gran’fer will be roaring for his supper. I must read it now or never.”
“If it was anything unpleasant,” wavered Martha, “Flynt would be very upset. And after sitting up all night with Maria—no, he must have a good sleep—better put it off till the morning.”
“To-morrow, I won’t be here. No, not till next Friday.”
“But I’ve got to go to-morrow to Miss Gentry and she can read it.”
“Oh!” said Jinny.
“Yes, Flynt wants to have my bonnet cleaned—vanity and waste, I call it.”
“But won’t that tire you—such a long walk? Why can’t I take the bonnet to-night? I’ll be passing her house.”
“We haven’t finished talking it over yet, Flynt and me,” parried Martha. “I might be having a new bonnet, you see, dearie.”
“Well, of course, it’s just as you wish. But suppose it rains to-morrow.”
“Rains?” repeated Martha, feeling—she knew not why—like an animal at bay. Then she drew a great breath of relief. Footsteps and voices were borne towards them. “Caleb!” she cried joyfully, “Will’s in London—he’s coming to see his old mother.”
“Good buoy-oy!” cried Caleb jovially421. It was only what he had expected the letter would say, but at heart he shrank from the change—he had finally equated422 himself to the dual36 solitude, and the home-coming prodigal423 loomed as menacing as Cousin Caroline.
“Good boy?” echoed Martha. “I should think he is—never cared for girls. And still unmarried.”
“There’s a chance for you, Jinny,” chaffed Caleb.
“Oh, how can you talk such nonsense!” Jinny was furiously angry. “Basket, Nip,” she called sharply, and climbed up to her seat almost as swiftly as he leapt into his.
“Are you coming, Mr. Skindle?” In her abstraction and to busy herself about something, she automatically removed the parcel of stones from the driving-seat.
“In a jiffy.” Elijah did not bound as obediently as Nip—he could not lose the chance to pontificate before her. “Not at all so well as you think, Mrs. Flynt. We experts can see what even the breeder can’t. Keep her upon corn and peas—give her just soft stuff.” And he vaulted not ungracefully to Jinny’s side.
“Thank you, sir,” said Martha, impressed. “Have you paid him?” she inquired of Caleb in a formidable whisper.
“Dedn’t Oi say Oi’d pay him for nawthen?” he answered still more audibly.
“Well, take off your hat for good-bye.”
“But Oi ain’t inside,” said the obstinate424, if confused, Caleb.
Jinny cracked her whip fiercely, and Methusalem joyously425 turned his nose for home.
“Good night, Jinny. Thank’ee for reading Cousin Caroline’s letter,” Caleb called after the receding296 vehicle.
XI
It was symptomatic of Jinny’s new mood that she scarcely noticed that Mr. Skindle now shared her sacking. Her mind was wandering again over the ground covered by the Sunday-school wagon, and certain birds’ eggs, losing their later cloud of guiltiness, lay suffused426 with childhood’s holy light. Methusalem went unguided through quiet ways. The large, low moon, a pink clown’s face, peered through leafless elms and gradually grew golden. To the right of the winding road rooks cawed persistently427, and once a small flight flew towards the cart; to the left more melodious428 birds whistled slow, high notes, or thrilled and gurgled plaintively429, or scurried off, startled, as the cart passed. One kept on crying “Quick, quick, quick,” with a metallic430 sound as of shears431 snipping432 the grass, but Methusalem was not to be hurried. There was time to admire wherever a thatched cottage made a picturesque433 point or a pond mirrored the dying sunset; time to savour the subtle balm, where hayricks stood at the far margin of fields. Sometimes a little pig would run round terrified and finally squeeze itself under the fence, or a big gander would stand and hiss434. Sometimes the road narrowed to a Gothic nave435, but for the most part there was nothing but a far-diffused sense of keen air and great flat spaces, the dark blue circle of sky with rolling white clouds, the large green fields with their distant border of thin trees; a view unclosed and unbounded save by the horizon, though impalpably veiling itself as they journeyed.
Elijah Skindle’s mood had changed no less than Jinny’s. Though he now sat in the coveted436 proximity437 to her, and could propose to her profile instead of her nape—and her bonnet was of the narrow-flanked pattern, condemned438 by the more prudish439 of her sex, that left the profile visible—he was subtly conscious that he was really farther from her than before. Even when the delivery of the few remaining parcels necessitated440 a slight thawing441 on Jinny’s part, the whole spirit seemed to have gone out of the adventure. It was grown tasteless as a thrice-warmed dish. The very horn had lost its thrill. Even if he found a vehicle at “The King of Prussia,” he was thinking, it would be an expensive trip: they might charge him all Caleb’s half-crown. He found himself morbidly442 counting the coils of cord—there were five in all, he made out. And when the rooks he called crows sailed towards him, they gave a still more sable443 hue to his thoughts. He counted them, too, remembering how his peasant mother—now installed as his woman-of-all-work—used to curtsy to a solitary magpie444, and the rhyme she taught him about the crows: “One’s unlucky, two lucky, three is health, four is wealth, five is sickness, and six is death.” Odd that matrimony was not mentioned, unless it was included in “two.” There were certainly five crows, he thought dismally—a sinister coincidence with the coils of cord. Then, cheering up, he interpreted the omened sickness as that of the local live-stock, a sickness greater than Jorrow could cope with, and he reflected that after all Jinny’s was a hard and toilsome life and her frigidity445 was perhaps due to its never occurring to her that he was willing to raise her to his status. Perhaps she thought he was just itching446 to take liberties. Well, he could understand her coyness: other men might indeed exploit such a chance; but he, he assured himself again, was a gentleman.
“That’s a slow couple,” he said, boldly breaking the long silence.
“Seems to me they fly as fast as the other rooks,” said Jinny.
“I mean the Flynts,” he said.
“Oh!” said Jinny.
There was resentment in her tone. She had not liked his calling Caleb “Uncle,” understanding well the urban contempt that lurked447 in declaring oneself a rustic’s nephew, and feeling, too, that however slow in the uptake Caleb might be, his wealth of homely crafts, knacks, instincts, life-wisdom, and nature-knowledge gave him a richer and deeper quality than this pert townsman. But Elijah persisted in his urban appraisal448.
“No go in them!”
“Dear old turtles!” sighed Jinny. “But so long as they go at the same pace——!”
“Ah!” he said eagerly. “You believe in like to like?”
“Well, fancy a turtle married to a hare!”
“But a pair of hares now—?” He seized his opportunity. “You and me, eh?”
“Speak for yourself, Mr.—Bunny!”
“I’m paying you a compliment, Jinny, classing you with me for smartness. There isn’t a girl from Bradmarsh to Chipstone that can hold a candle to you. So that’s why, seeing a man must marry somebody sometime, and looking around as becomes a man who’s getting a bit—a bit——”
“Bald?” prompted Jinny blandly.
“And what does that matter?” he said, too intent now to be fobbed off by raillery. “The point is that with the practice and position I’m getting now, it would be a good lift for you.”
“I thought I was giving you a lift,” said Jinny icily.
“So you were—so you are—in that sense. But I didn’t need even that. My nag wasn’t really lame. I only made an excuse to talk this over. See?”
“A very lame excuse,” flashed Jinny.
“There was never any way of talking to you—you always so busy with parcels and me with patients. I’m not one of your flirting449 kind with fancy waistcoats, I want to settle down, and I’ve taken a favour to you.”
Even Jinny’s ready tongue had no repartee450 to this massive complacency. She could only articulate: “Have you, now?”
“Yes, I have. And I’d like to see you driving of a Sunday in my smart trap. Come, what do you say?”
“Thank you,” she said coldly. “I’d rather stay in my old cart.”
“But it’s such a shame—you so spruce and spry—tied to this ramshackle cart, when you might be adorning451 a higher sphere and sitting in my parlour instead of being at everybody’s beck and call.”’
He had chosen precisely the worst form of appeal. Confronted with this picture of parlour-stodginess, her r?le of Jinny the Carrier—Jinny the pet and friend-in-need of the countryside—seemed infinitely452 dear and desirable. And what subtly added to her anger was some dim presentiment453 in herself of other forces coming into her life, forces threatening to emerge from their picture-past, and to trouble the placid409 current of her career. Like Caleb she shrank from change. To shuttle for ever ’twixt Bradmarsh and Chipstone; with her grandfather, Nip, Methusalem, all immortal454 and unchanging as herself—this was all she asked of heaven: this and not too much rain and wind.
“You want me to sit in your parlour?” she cried in white revolt.
He took off his cap and bowed gallantly: “In silks and satins.” Then suddenly realizing his baldness, he clapped it on again.
“And give up my work!” There was an ominous183 light in Jinny’s eyes. But love is blind! Even the bats now beginning to swoop455 in the dusk could see more clearly than Elijah.
“I promise you you shan’t do a stroke!” said the fatuous456 young man. “As the wife of a veterinary surgeon, you’d be a lady.”
“And what would become of Gran’fer?”
“He’d have warm corduroys and plenty of gruel457 in the Chipstone poorhouse.”
“You heartless knacker! Get off my cart. Whoa! Methusalem, whoa!”
“How you fly at a man! I’ve already got my mother living with me, and she and your grandfather wouldn’t get on, being of a different class. But I’d be willing to pay his rent and get a woman to look after him.”
“Nobody shall look after him but me. And his business—who is to look after that?”
“Don’t worry. Some other carrier’ll crop up.”
“There isn’t going to be any other carrier here but Daniel Quarles, understand that.”
“Well, if you think you’ll find anybody to marry your grandfather——” he said sullenly458.
“Who wants to marry? I shall never give up the road.”
“If you’re so fond of driving, there’s always my trap.”
“No good setting traps for me. I’ll hang in a cage in no man’s parlour. I must fly about in the woods like now—free!”
“Birds in the woods are sometimes hungry,” her wooer reminded her. “Suppose your business falls off—or things go to famine prices like five or six years ago. The gallon loaf ain’t always a shilling. Ten years ago I remember flour was two and ten the stone, and that only seconds, and tea was five shillings. With me you’d be sure of the fat of the land always—there’s no difference with me ’twixt Sundays and weekdays.”
“Oh, it’s a stuffed bird you want for your parlour.”
“Rubbish, I’ve got six stuffed birds in my parlour—in the loveliest glass cases!”
“But they don’t sing!” And Jinny burst mockingly into a song that had hitherto been a mere tune27 to her:
“I’ll be no submissive wife,
?No, not I——”
He lost his temper. “Oh, you needn’t make such a fuss over yourself. I dare say I can find plenty of wives—with my connexion.”
“Among pigs?” she said sweetly. She jumped down and began to light the lamp. “This is your getting-out place.”
“It’s nothing of the sort—I go on to the bridge.”
“Impossible. My horse is lame.”
“I know all about that.” And snatching up the reins459 she had dropped, “Gee-up!” he called suddenly.
But Methusalem knew better.
“You’ll never get home that way,” said Jinny, smiling.
“Then how the hell——?” he began furiously.
“Shanks’s mare,” she reminded him again. “That’s not lame.”
He gave her a long, nasty look as though meditating460 the law of the stronger. But he tried pleading first.
“By the time I walk home, my mother’ll have locked up; thinking I’m sitting up with a patient.”
“There’s the poorhouse!”
He winced. “You’ve got to carry me,” he said sullenly, “or I’ll have the law on you.”
“There’s no law to make me carry aught save goods.” And she sang on carelessly:
“Should a humdrum461 husband say,
?That at home I ought to stay——”
The little voice, rippling through those demure462 lips, wellnigh stung him to close her mouth with the masterful gag of kisses, but a remnant of sanity463 warned him not to spoil a fine animal practice by a scandal. Besides Jinny had her whip, and what was still more formidable, her horn.
“I’ll be even with you for this!” And jumping down, he strode off furiously.
“Hullo! Mr. Skindle! Hullo!”
“Keep away from me!” It was at once an appeal and a warning.
“Don’t you want your case of instruments? Not that you’ll be in time to kill those poor horses to-night.”
With an unsmothered oath he turned back and clambered into the interior, upsetting Nip’s basket in his fury; the result of which neglect to let sleeping dogs lie was that the unsagacious animal mounted growling464 guard over the instrument-case, as before a burglar.
“You’d best get it for me,” he said sullenly. “And by the way, how much do I owe you?”
“Never mind,” she said blandly, handing him his burden. “You promised to be even with me.”
“The little vixen!” he thought, as he trudged465 towards a farm where he remembered doctoring a horse. “She ought to be put in the ducking-pond! What a lucky escape!”
点击收听单词发音
1 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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2 literate | |
n.学者;adj.精通文学的,受过教育的 | |
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3 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
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4 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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5 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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6 rejuvenation | |
n. 复原,再生, 更新, 嫩化, 恢复 | |
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7 bonnet | |
n.无边女帽;童帽 | |
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8 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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9 improper | |
adj.不适当的,不合适的,不正确的,不合礼仪的 | |
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10 loom | |
n.织布机,织机;v.隐现,(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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11 looming | |
n.上现蜃景(光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼)v.隐约出现,阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 );隐约出现,阴森地逼近 | |
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12 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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13 resounded | |
v.(指声音等)回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 );产生回响;(指某处)回荡着声音 | |
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14 amble | |
vi.缓行,漫步 | |
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15 ambled | |
v.(马)缓行( amble的过去式和过去分词 );从容地走,漫步 | |
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16 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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17 tilt | |
v.(使)倾侧;(使)倾斜;n.倾侧;倾斜 | |
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18 steered | |
v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 );操纵;控制;引导 | |
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19 unpacked | |
v.从(包裹等)中取出(所装的东西),打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 );拆包;解除…的负担;吐露(心事等) | |
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20 scoured | |
走遍(某地)搜寻(人或物)( scour的过去式和过去分词 ); (用力)刷; 擦净; 擦亮 | |
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21 hitched | |
(免费)搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 ); 搭便车; 攀上; 跃上 | |
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22 blazoned | |
v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 );宣布;夸示;装饰 | |
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23 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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24 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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25 practitioners | |
n.习艺者,实习者( practitioner的名词复数 );从业者(尤指医师) | |
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26 witchcraft | |
n.魔法,巫术 | |
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27 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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28 concoction | |
n.调配(物);谎言 | |
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29 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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30 liar | |
n.说谎的人 | |
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31 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
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32 apprenticeship | |
n.学徒身份;学徒期 | |
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33 plying | |
v.使用(工具)( ply的现在分词 );经常供应(食物、饮料);固定往来;经营生意 | |
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34 ply | |
v.(搬运工等)等候顾客,弯曲 | |
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35 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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36 dual | |
adj.双的;二重的,二元的 | |
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37 ripened | |
v.成熟,使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38 smallpox | |
n.天花 | |
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39 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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40 tact | |
n.机敏,圆滑,得体 | |
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41 muddled | |
adj.混乱的;糊涂的;头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱,弄糟( muddle的过去式);使糊涂;对付,混日子 | |
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42 ousting | |
驱逐( oust的现在分词 ); 革职; 罢黜; 剥夺 | |
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43 evoking | |
产生,引起,唤起( evoke的现在分词 ) | |
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44 brazen | |
adj.厚脸皮的,无耻的,坚硬的 | |
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45 pretence | |
n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
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46 pretences | |
n.假装( pretence的名词复数 );作假;自命;自称 | |
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47 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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48 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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49 rippling | |
起涟漪的,潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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50 prosaic | |
adj.单调的,无趣的 | |
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51 slung | |
抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 ); 吊挂; 遣送; 押往 | |
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52 condescend | |
v.俯就,屈尊;堕落,丢丑 | |
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53 marketing | |
n.行销,在市场的买卖,买东西 | |
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54 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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55 craving | |
n.渴望,热望 | |
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56 precedent | |
n.先例,前例;惯例;adj.在前的,在先的 | |
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57 disapproval | |
n.反对,不赞成 | |
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58 emancipation | |
n.(从束缚、支配下)解放 | |
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59 poultry | |
n.家禽,禽肉 | |
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60 nag | |
v.(对…)不停地唠叨;n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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61 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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62 cantankerous | |
adj.爱争吵的,脾气不好的 | |
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63 soothe | |
v.安慰;使平静;使减轻;缓和;奉承 | |
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64 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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65 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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66 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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67 lash | |
v.系牢;鞭打;猛烈抨击;n.鞭打;眼睫毛 | |
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68 lashes | |
n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 );鞭子;突然猛烈的一击;急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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69 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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70 archaic | |
adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的,已不通用的 | |
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71 plurals | |
n.复数,复数形式( plural的名词复数 ) | |
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73 drudge | |
n.劳碌的人;v.做苦工,操劳 | |
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74 solicitude | |
n.焦虑 | |
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75 morbidity | |
n.病态;不健全;发病;发病率 | |
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76 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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77 hirsute | |
adj.多毛的 | |
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78 gentry | |
n.绅士阶级,上层阶级 | |
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79 pastor | |
n.牧师,牧人 | |
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80 dissent | |
n./v.不同意,持异议 | |
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81 tithes | |
n.(宗教捐税)什一税,什一的教区税,小部分( tithe的名词复数 ) | |
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82 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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83 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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84 abhorred | |
v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 );(厌恶地)回避;拒绝;淘汰 | |
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85 widower | |
n.鳏夫 | |
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86 calloused | |
adj.粗糙的,粗硬的,起老茧的v.(使)硬结,(使)起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 );(使)冷酷无情 | |
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87 vein | |
n.血管,静脉;叶脉,纹理;情绪;vt.使成脉络 | |
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88 ravages | |
劫掠后的残迹,破坏的结果,毁坏后的残迹 | |
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89 plebeian | |
adj.粗俗的;平民的;n.平民;庶民 | |
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90 manor | |
n.庄园,领地 | |
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91 confirmation | |
n.证实,确认,批准 | |
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92 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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93 exuberant | |
adj.充满活力的;(植物)繁茂的 | |
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94 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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95 obstinacy | |
n.顽固;(病痛等)难治 | |
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96 impoverished | |
adj.穷困的,无力的,用尽了的v.使(某人)贫穷( impoverish的过去式和过去分词 );使(某物)贫瘠或恶化 | |
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97 squiredom | |
n.地主,乡绅;地主(或乡绅)的身份 | |
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98 ailing | |
v.生病 | |
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99 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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100 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
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101 prosaically | |
adv.无聊地;乏味地;散文式地;平凡地 | |
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102 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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103 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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104 dispense | |
vt.分配,分发;配(药),发(药);实施 | |
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105 fussily | |
adv.无事空扰地,大惊小怪地,小题大做地 | |
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106 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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107 ledge | |
n.壁架,架状突出物;岩架,岩礁 | |
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108 interpretation | |
n.解释,说明,描述;艺术处理 | |
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109 yokels | |
n.乡下佬,土包子( yokel的名词复数 ) | |
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110 chattels | |
n.动产,奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
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111 geniality | |
n.和蔼,诚恳;愉快 | |
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112 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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113 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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114 moles | |
防波堤( mole的名词复数 ); 鼹鼠; 痣; 间谍 | |
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115 glean | |
v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
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116 largesse | |
n.慷慨援助,施舍 | |
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117 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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118 clogged | |
(使)阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 ); 淤滞 | |
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119 devoid | |
adj.全无的,缺乏的 | |
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120 obliterated | |
v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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121 agonized | |
v.使(极度)痛苦,折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 );苦斗;苦苦思索;感到极度痛苦 | |
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122 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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123 scurried | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124 minions | |
n.奴颜婢膝的仆从( minion的名词复数 );走狗;宠儿;受人崇拜者 | |
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125 tangential | |
adj.离题的,切线的 | |
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126 canine | |
adj.犬的,犬科的 | |
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127 resounding | |
adj. 响亮的 | |
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128 bravado | |
n.虚张声势,故作勇敢,逞能 | |
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129 flair | |
n.天赋,本领,才华;洞察力 | |
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130 lair | |
n.野兽的巢穴;躲藏处 | |
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131 sniff | |
vi.嗅…味道;抽鼻涕;对嗤之以鼻,蔑视 | |
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132 evade | |
vt.逃避,回避;避开,躲避 | |
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133 dab | |
v.轻触,轻拍,轻涂;n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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134 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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135 poised | |
a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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136 eloquently | |
adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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137 expressive | |
adj.表现的,表达…的,富于表情的 | |
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138 demon | |
n.魔鬼,恶魔 | |
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139 raucous | |
adj.(声音)沙哑的,粗糙的 | |
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140 maladroitness | |
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141 scenting | |
vt.闻到(scent的现在分词形式) | |
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142 treacherous | |
adj.不可靠的,有暗藏的危险的;adj.背叛的,背信弃义的 | |
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143 mettle | |
n.勇气,精神 | |
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144 taut | |
adj.拉紧的,绷紧的,紧张的 | |
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145 tragically | |
adv. 悲剧地,悲惨地 | |
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146 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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147 dismally | |
adv.阴暗地,沉闷地 | |
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148 bowels | |
n.肠,内脏,内部;肠( bowel的名词复数 );内部,最深处 | |
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149 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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150 wheezing | |
v.喘息,发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 );哮鸣 | |
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151 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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152 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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153 wailing | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
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154 allure | |
n.诱惑力,魅力;vt.诱惑,引诱,吸引 | |
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155 quarry | |
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找 | |
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156 foraging | |
v.搜寻(食物),尤指动物觅(食)( forage的现在分词 );(尤指用手)搜寻(东西) | |
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157 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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158 replete | |
adj.饱满的,塞满的;n.贮蜜蚁 | |
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159 grunt | |
v.嘟哝;作呼噜声;n.呼噜声,嘟哝 | |
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160 stolid | |
adj.无动于衷的,感情麻木的 | |
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161 hybrid | |
n.(动,植)杂种,混合物 | |
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162 flaunted | |
v.炫耀,夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 );有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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163 affinity | |
n.亲和力,密切关系 | |
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164 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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165 deficient | |
adj.不足的,不充份的,有缺陷的 | |
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166 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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167 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
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168 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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169 antediluvian | |
adj.史前的,陈旧的 | |
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170 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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171 banishing | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
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172 shafts | |
n.轴( shaft的名词复数 );(箭、高尔夫球棒等的)杆;通风井;一阵(疼痛、害怕等) | |
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173 gallop | |
v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔;飞速发展 | |
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174 browsers | |
浏览器 | |
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175 accomplishment | |
n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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176 plausible | |
adj.似真实的,似乎有理的,似乎可信的 | |
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177 latch | |
n.门闩,窗闩;弹簧锁 | |
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178 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
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179 evoke | |
vt.唤起,引起,使人想起 | |
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180 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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181 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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182 vet | |
n.兽医,退役军人;vt.检查 | |
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183 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
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184 ominously | |
adv.恶兆地,不吉利地;预示地 | |
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185 espied | |
v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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186 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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187 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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188 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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189 whining | |
n. 抱怨,牢骚 v. 哭诉,发牢骚 | |
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190 aggravated | |
使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 ); 使更严重; 激怒; 使恼火 | |
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191 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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192 ironic | |
adj.讽刺的,有讽刺意味的,出乎意料的 | |
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193 unbearably | |
adv.不能忍受地,无法容忍地;慌 | |
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194 pigsty | |
n.猪圈,脏房间 | |
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195 lucrative | |
adj.赚钱的,可获利的 | |
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196 maternity | |
n.母性,母道,妇产科病房;adj.孕妇的,母性的 | |
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197 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
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198 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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199 vent | |
n.通风口,排放口;开衩;vt.表达,发泄 | |
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200 peal | |
n.钟声;v.鸣响 | |
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201 prophesied | |
v.预告,预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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202 progeny | |
n.后代,子孙;结果 | |
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203 dispel | |
vt.驱走,驱散,消除 | |
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204 prostrate | |
v.拜倒,平卧,衰竭;adj.拜倒的,平卧的,衰竭的 | |
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205 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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206 wrung | |
绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 ); 握紧(尤指别人的手); 把(湿衣服)拧干; 绞掉(水) | |
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207 gatherings | |
聚集( gathering的名词复数 ); 收集; 采集; 搜集 | |
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208 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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209 bridle | |
n.笼头,束缚;vt.抑制,约束;动怒 | |
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210 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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211 complaisance | |
n.彬彬有礼,殷勤,柔顺 | |
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212 smuggle | |
vt.私运;vi.走私 | |
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213 dodged | |
v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 );回避 | |
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214 sniffed | |
v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 );抽鼻子(尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气);抱怨,不以为然地说 | |
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215 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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216 meticulously | |
adv.过细地,异常细致地;无微不至;精心 | |
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217 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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218 scintillating | |
adj.才气横溢的,闪闪发光的; 闪烁的 | |
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219 oaring | |
v.划(行)( oar的现在分词 ) | |
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220 shimmering | |
v.闪闪发光,发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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221 frenzy | |
n.疯狂,狂热,极度的激动 | |
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222 intoxication | |
n.wild excitement;drunkenness;poisoning | |
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223 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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224 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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225 subconsciousness | |
潜意识;下意识 | |
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226 hymn | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌 | |
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227 freckled | |
adj.雀斑;斑点;晒斑;(使)生雀斑v.雀斑,斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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228 flouted | |
v.藐视,轻视( flout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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229 batch | |
n.一批(组,群);一批生产量 | |
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230 loomed | |
v.隐约出现,阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 );隐约出现,阴森地逼近 | |
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231 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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232 permeated | |
弥漫( permeate的过去式和过去分词 ); 遍布; 渗入; 渗透 | |
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233 wagon | |
n.四轮马车,手推车,面包车;无盖运货列车 | |
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234 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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235 sobbing | |
<主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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236 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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237 crestfallen | |
adj. 挫败的,失望的,沮丧的 | |
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238 admonishing | |
v.劝告( admonish的现在分词 );训诫;(温和地)责备;轻责 | |
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239 abominable | |
adj.可厌的,令人憎恶的 | |
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240 sobs | |
啜泣(声),呜咽(声)( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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241 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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242 solace | |
n.安慰;v.使快乐;vt.安慰(物),缓和 | |
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243 hymns | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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244 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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245 detour | |
n.绕行的路,迂回路;v.迂回,绕道 | |
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246 stowaway | |
n.(藏于轮船,飞机中的)偷乘者 | |
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247 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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248 stewing | |
炖 | |
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249 mightier | |
adj. 强有力的,强大的,巨大的 adv. 很,极其 | |
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250 wilful | |
adj.任性的,故意的 | |
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251 domain | |
n.(活动等)领域,范围;领地,势力范围 | |
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252 hue | |
n.色度;色调;样子 | |
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253 outraged | |
a.震惊的,义愤填膺的 | |
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254 fugitive | |
adj.逃亡的,易逝的;n.逃犯,逃亡者 | |
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255 blurred | |
v.(使)变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 );(使)难以区分;模模糊糊;迷离 | |
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256 glamorous | |
adj.富有魅力的;美丽动人的;令人向往的 | |
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257 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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258 fussy | |
adj.为琐事担忧的,过分装饰的,爱挑剔的 | |
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259 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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260 glib | |
adj.圆滑的,油嘴滑舌的 | |
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261 parvenus | |
n.暴富者( parvenu的名词复数 );暴发户;新贵;傲慢自负的人 | |
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262 deported | |
v.将…驱逐出境( deport的过去式和过去分词 );举止 | |
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263 appraising | |
v.估价( appraise的现在分词 );估计;估量;评价 | |
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264 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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265 jaunts | |
n.游览( jaunt的名词复数 ) | |
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266 supplanter | |
排挤者,取代者 | |
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267 bristled | |
adj. 直立的,多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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268 whined | |
v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 );哀诉,诉怨 | |
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269 pretentious | |
adj.自命不凡的,自负的,炫耀的 | |
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270 kennels | |
n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处,养狗场;狗窝( kennel的名词复数 );养狗场 | |
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271 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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272 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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273 alley | |
n.小巷,胡同;小径,小路 | |
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274 awning | |
n.遮阳篷;雨篷 | |
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275 flamboyant | |
adj.火焰般的,华丽的,炫耀的 | |
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276 scampering | |
v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑,惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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277 repulsive | |
adj.排斥的,使人反感的 | |
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278 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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279 skewers | |
n.串肉扦( skewer的名词复数 );烤肉扦;棒v.(用串肉扦或类似物)串起,刺穿( skewer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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280 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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281 lesser | |
adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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282 niche | |
n.壁龛;合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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283 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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284 plied | |
v.使用(工具)( ply的过去式和过去分词 );经常供应(食物、饮料);固定往来;经营生意 | |
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285 repelled | |
v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
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286 lame | |
adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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287 lamed | |
希伯莱语第十二个字母 | |
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288 grumblingly | |
喃喃报怨着,发牢骚着 | |
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289 utensils | |
器具,用具,器皿( utensil的名词复数 ); 器物 | |
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290 vigilant | |
adj.警觉的,警戒的,警惕的 | |
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291 elongated | |
v.延长,加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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292 uncouth | |
adj.无教养的,粗鲁的 | |
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293 squatted | |
v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 );非法擅自占用(土地或房屋);为获得其所有权;而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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294 votaries | |
n.信徒( votary的名词复数 );追随者;(天主教)修士;修女 | |
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295 desolating | |
毁坏( desolate的现在分词 ); 极大地破坏; 使沮丧; 使痛苦 | |
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296 receding | |
v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 );向后倾斜;自原处后退或避开别人的注视;尤指问题 | |
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297 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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298 scoffingly | |
带冷笑地 | |
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299 bestowing | |
砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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300 plank | |
n.板条,木板,政策要点,政纲条目 | |
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301 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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302 dorsal | |
adj.背部的,背脊的 | |
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303 variegated | |
adj.斑驳的,杂色的 | |
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304 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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305 hoofs | |
n.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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306 trot | |
n.疾走,慢跑;n.老太婆;现成译本;(复数)trots:腹泻(与the 连用);v.小跑,快步走,赶紧 | |
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307 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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308 starry | |
adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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309 enchantment | |
n.迷惑,妖术,魅力 | |
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310 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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311 degradation | |
n.降级;低落;退化;陵削;降解;衰变 | |
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312 primroses | |
n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 );淡黄色;追求享乐(招至恶果) | |
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313 anemones | |
n.银莲花( anemone的名词复数 );海葵 | |
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314 precocious | |
adj.早熟的;较早显出的 | |
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315 bluebells | |
n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
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316 intoxicating | |
a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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317 larks | |
n.百灵科鸟(尤指云雀)( lark的名词复数 );一大早就起床;鸡鸣即起;(因太费力而不想干时说)算了v.百灵科鸟(尤指云雀)( lark的第三人称单数 );一大早就起床;鸡鸣即起;(因太费力而不想干时说)算了 | |
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318 spine | |
n.脊柱,脊椎;(动植物的)刺;书脊 | |
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319 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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320 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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321 stipulated | |
vt.& vi.规定;约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
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322 intruded | |
n.侵入的,推进的v.侵入,侵扰,打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 );把…强加于 | |
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323 vaulted | |
adj.拱状的 | |
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324 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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325 surmise | |
v./n.猜想,推测 | |
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326 ripple | |
n.涟波,涟漪,波纹,粗钢梳;vt.使...起涟漪,使起波纹; vi.呈波浪状,起伏前进 | |
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327 aprons | |
围裙( apron的名词复数 ); 停机坪,台口(舞台幕前的部份) | |
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328 tolled | |
鸣钟(toll的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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329 bustle | |
v.喧扰地忙乱,匆忙,奔忙;n.忙碌;喧闹 | |
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330 chatter | |
vi./n.喋喋不休;短促尖叫;(牙齿)打战 | |
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331 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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332 groaning | |
adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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333 windings | |
(道路、河流等)蜿蜒的,弯曲的( winding的名词复数 ); 缠绕( wind的现在分词 ); 卷绕; 转动(把手) | |
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334 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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335 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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336 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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337 nonchalance | |
n.冷淡,漠不关心 | |
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338 aspired | |
v.渴望,追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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339 conceit | |
n.自负,自高自大 | |
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340 annuity | |
n.年金;养老金 | |
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341 pending | |
prep.直到,等待…期间;adj.待定的;迫近的 | |
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342 initiation | |
n.开始 | |
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343 hampers | |
妨碍,束缚,限制( hamper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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344 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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345 joyfully | |
adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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346 flicked | |
(尤指用手指或手快速地)轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 ); (用…)轻挥; (快速地)按开关; 向…笑了一下(或瞥了一眼等) | |
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347 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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348 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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349 vets | |
abbr.veterans (复数)老手,退伍军人;veterinaries (复数)兽医n.兽医( vet的名词复数 );老兵;退伍军人;兽医诊所v.审查(某人过去的记录、资格等)( vet的第三人称单数 );调查;检查;诊疗 | |
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350 gallantly | |
adv. 漂亮地,勇敢地,献殷勤地 | |
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351 jaunty | |
adj.愉快的,满足的;adv.心满意足地,洋洋得意地;n.心满意足;洋洋得意 | |
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352 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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353 chuckle | |
vi./n.轻声笑,咯咯笑 | |
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354 intestines | |
n.肠( intestine的名词复数 ) | |
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355 triumphantly | |
ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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356 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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357 adorn | |
vt.使美化,装饰 | |
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358 transpired | |
(事实,秘密等)被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 ); 泄露; 显露; 发生 | |
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359 velvety | |
adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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360 fickleness | |
n.易变;无常;浮躁;变化无常 | |
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361 manlier | |
manly(有男子气概的)的比较级形式 | |
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362 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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363 hoop | |
n.(篮球)篮圈,篮 | |
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364 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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365 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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366 ribs | |
n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 );(船或屋顶等的)肋拱;肋骨状的东西;(织物的)凸条花纹 | |
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367 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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368 soothing | |
adj.慰藉的;使人宽心的;镇静的 | |
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369 unaware | |
a.不知道的,未意识到的 | |
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370 colloquy | |
n.谈话,自由讨论 | |
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371 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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372 barge | |
n.平底载货船,驳船 | |
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373 wharves | |
n.码头,停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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374 eke | |
v.勉强度日,节约使用 | |
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375 larder | |
n.食物贮藏室,食品橱 | |
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376 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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377 blot | |
vt.弄脏(用吸墨纸)吸干;n.污点,污渍 | |
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378 confided | |
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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379 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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380 constable | |
n.(英国)警察,警官 | |
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381 deportation | |
n.驱逐,放逐 | |
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382 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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383 testimonies | |
(法庭上证人的)证词( testimony的名词复数 ); 证明,证据 | |
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384 gaol | |
n.(jail)监狱;(不加冠词)监禁;vt.使…坐牢 | |
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385 sanctimonious | |
adj.假装神圣的,假装虔诚的,假装诚实的 | |
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386 exodus | |
v.大批离去,成群外出 | |
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387 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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388 succumbed | |
不再抵抗(诱惑、疾病、攻击等)( succumb的过去式和过去分词 ); 屈从; 被压垮; 死 | |
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389 brotherhood | |
n.兄弟般的关系,手中情谊 | |
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390 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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391 rippled | |
使泛起涟漪(ripple的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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392 dazedly | |
头昏眼花地,眼花缭乱地,茫然地 | |
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393 ardently | |
adv.热心地,热烈地 | |
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394 dozed | |
v.打盹儿,打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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395 winced | |
赶紧避开,畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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396 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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397 scrambled | |
v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 );攀登;争夺;(军事飞机)紧急起飞 | |
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398 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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399 blandly | |
adv.温和地,殷勤地 | |
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400 friction | |
n.摩擦,摩擦力 | |
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401 boon | |
n.恩赐,恩物,恩惠 | |
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402 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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403 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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404 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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405 mowed | |
v.刈,割( mow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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406 puffing | |
v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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407 snipped | |
v.剪( snip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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408 placidly | |
adv.平稳地,平静地 | |
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409 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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410 waft | |
v.飘浮,飘荡;n.一股;一阵微风;飘荡 | |
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411 misty | |
adj.雾蒙蒙的,有雾的 | |
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412 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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413 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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414 runaway | |
n.逃走的人,逃亡,亡命者;adj.逃亡的,逃走的 | |
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415 hairpin | |
n.簪,束发夹,夹发针 | |
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416 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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417 wasteful | |
adj.(造成)浪费的,挥霍的 | |
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418 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
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419 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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420 subconsciously | |
ad.下意识地,潜意识地 | |
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421 jovially | |
adv.愉快地,高兴地 | |
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422 equated | |
adj.换算的v.认为某事物(与另一事物)相等或相仿( equate的过去式和过去分词 );相当于;等于;把(一事物) 和(另一事物)等同看待 | |
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423 prodigal | |
adj.浪费的,挥霍的,放荡的 | |
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424 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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425 joyously | |
ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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426 suffused | |
v.(指颜色、水气等)弥漫于,布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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427 persistently | |
ad.坚持地;固执地 | |
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428 melodious | |
adj.旋律美妙的,调子优美的,音乐性的 | |
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429 plaintively | |
adv.悲哀地,哀怨地 | |
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430 metallic | |
adj.金属的;金属制的;含金属的;产金属的;像金属的 | |
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431 shears | |
n.大剪刀 | |
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432 snipping | |
n.碎片v.剪( snip的现在分词 ) | |
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433 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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434 hiss | |
v.发出嘶嘶声;发嘘声表示不满 | |
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435 nave | |
n.教堂的中部;本堂 | |
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436 coveted | |
adj.令人垂涎的;垂涎的,梦寐以求的v.贪求,觊觎(covet的过去分词);垂涎;贪图 | |
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437 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
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438 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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439 prudish | |
adj.装淑女样子的,装规矩的,过分规矩的;adv.过分拘谨地 | |
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440 necessitated | |
使…成为必要,需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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441 thawing | |
n.熔化,融化v.(气候)解冻( thaw的现在分词 );(态度、感情等)缓和;(冰、雪及冷冻食物)溶化;软化 | |
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442 morbidly | |
adv.病态地 | |
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443 sable | |
n.黑貂;adj.黑色的 | |
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444 magpie | |
n.喜欢收藏物品的人,喜鹊,饶舌者 | |
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445 frigidity | |
n.寒冷;冷淡;索然无味;(尤指妇女的)性感缺失 | |
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446 itching | |
adj.贪得的,痒的,渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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447 lurked | |
vi.潜伏,埋伏(lurk的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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448 appraisal | |
n.对…作出的评价;评价,鉴定,评估 | |
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449 flirting | |
v.调情,打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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450 repartee | |
n.机敏的应答 | |
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451 adorning | |
修饰,装饰物 | |
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452 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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453 presentiment | |
n.预感,预觉 | |
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454 immortal | |
adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
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455 swoop | |
n.俯冲,攫取;v.抓取,突然袭击 | |
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456 fatuous | |
adj.愚昧的;昏庸的 | |
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457 gruel | |
n.稀饭,粥 | |
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458 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
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459 reins | |
感情,激情; 缰( rein的名词复数 ); 控制手段; 掌管; (成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的)保护带 | |
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460 meditating | |
a.沉思的,冥想的 | |
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461 humdrum | |
adj.单调的,乏味的 | |
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462 demure | |
adj.严肃的;端庄的 | |
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463 sanity | |
n.心智健全,神智正常,判断正确 | |
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464 growling | |
n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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465 trudged | |
vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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