Blinded by the sharp dust, giving hard words to the wind, to the cold, to the post-office for not being nearer, to anything and everything, Roland Yorke dashed along, suffering nothing and no one to impede3 his progress. He flung the letters into the box at the post-office, when he reached that establishment, and then set off at the same pace back again.
Roland was in a state of inward commotion5. He thought himself the most injured, the most hard-worked, the most-to-be-pitied fellow under the sun. The confinement6 in the office, with the additional work he had to get through there, was his chief grievance7; and a grievance it really was to one of Roland’s temperament8. When he had Arthur Channing and Jenkins for his companions in it, to whom he could talk as he pleased, and who did all the work, allowing Roland to do all the play, it had been tolerably bearable; but that state of things was changed, and Roland was feeling that he could bear it no longer.
Another thing that Roland would perhaps be allowed to bear no longer was—immunity from his debts. They had grown on him latterly, as much as the work had. Careless Roland saw no way out of that difficulty, any more than he did out of the other, except by an emigration to that desired haven9 which had stereotyped10 itself on the retina of his imagination in colours of the brightest phantasy—Port Natal11. For its own sake, Roland was hurrying to get to it, as well as that it might be convenient to do so.
“Look here,” said he to himself, as he tore along, “even if Carrick were to set me all clear and straight—and I dare say he might, if I told him the bother I am in—where would be the good? It would not forward me. I wouldn’t stop at Galloway’s another month to be made into a royal duke. If he’d take back Arthur with honours, and Jenkins came out of his cough and his thinness and returned, I don’t know but I might do violence to my inclination12 and remain. I can’t, as it is. I should go dead with the worry and the work.”
Roland paused, fighting for an instant with a puff13 of wind and dust. Then he resumed:
“I’d pay my debts if I could; but, if I can’t, what am I to do but leave them unpaid14? Much better get the money from Carrick to start me off to Port Natal, and set me going there. Then, when I have made enough, I’ll send the cash to Arthur, and get him to settle up for me. I don’t want to cheat the poor wretches15 out of their money; I’d rather pay ‘em double than do that. Some of them work hard enough to get it: almost as hard as I do at Galloway’s; and they have a right to their own. In three months’ time after landing, I shall be able to do the thing liberally. I’ll make up my mind from to-night, and go: I know it will be all for the best. Besides, there’s the other thing.”
What the “other thing” might mean, Mr. Roland did not state more explicitly16. He came to another pause, and then went on again.
“That’s settled. I’ll tell my lady to-night, and I’ll tell Galloway in the morning; and I’ll fix on the time for starting, and be off to London, and see what I can do with Carrick. Let’s see! I shall want to take out lots of things. I can get them in London. When Bagshaw went, he told me of about a thousand. I think I dotted them down somewhere: I must look. Rum odds17 and ends they were: I know frying-pans were amongst them, Carrick will go with me to buy them, if I ask him; and then he’ll pay, if it’s only out of politeness. Nobody sticks out for politeness more than Carrick. He—”
Roland’s castles in the air were suddenly cut short. He was passing a dark part near the cathedral, when a rough hand—rough in texture18, not in motion—was laid upon his shoulder, and a peculiar19 piece of paper thrust upon him. The assailant was Hopper, the sheriff’s officer.
Roland flew into one of his passions. He divined what it was, perfectly20 well: nothing less than one of those little mandates21 from our Sovereign Lady the Queen, which, a short time back, had imperilled Hamish Channing. He repaid Hopper with a specimen22 of his tongue, and flung the writ23 back at him.
“Now, sir, where’s the good of your abusing me, as if it was my fault?” returned the man, in a tone of remonstrance24. “I have had it in my pocket this three weeks, Mr. Yorke, and not a day but I could have served it on you: but I’m loth to trouble young gentlemen such as you, as I’m sure many of you in this town could say. I have got into displeasure with our folk about the delay in this very paper, and—in short, sir, I have not done it, till I was obliged.”
“You old preacher!” foamed25 Roland. “I have not tipped you with half-a-crown lately, and therefore you can see me!”
“Mr. Yorke,” said the man, earnestly, “if you had filled my hands with half-crowns yesterday, I must have done this to-day. I tell you, sir, I have got into a row with our people over it; and it’s the truth. Why don’t you, sir—if I may presume to give advice—tell your little embarrassments27 to your mother, the Lady Augusta? She’d be sure to see you through them.”
“How dare you mention the Lady Augusta to me?” thundered haughty28 Roland. “Is it fitting that the Lady Augusta’s name should be bandied in such transactions as these? Do you think I don’t know what’s due to her better than that? If I have got into embarrassment26, I shall not drag my mother into it.”
“Well, sir, you know best. I did not mean to offend you, but the contrary. Mind, Mr. Roland Yorke!” added Hopper, pointing to the writ, which still lay where it had been flung: “you can leave it there if you choose, sir, but I have served it upon you.”
Hopper went his way. Roland caught up the paper, tore it to pieces with his strong hands, and tossed them after the man. The wind took up the quarrel, and scattered29 the pieces indiscriminately, right and left. Roland strode on.
“What a mercy that there’s a Port Natal to be off to!” was his comment.
Things were not particularly promising30 at home, when Roland entered, looking at them from a quiet, sociable31 point of view. Lady Augusta was spending the evening at the deanery, and the children, from Gerald downwards32, were turning the general parlour into a bear-garden. Romping33, quarrelling, shouting and screaming, they were really as unrestrained as so many young bears. It would often be no better when Lady Augusta was at home. How Gerald and Tod contrived34 to do their lessons amidst it was a marvel35 to every one. Roland administered a few cuffs36, to enjoin37 silence, and then went out again, he did not much care where. His feet took him to the house of his friend, Knivett, with whom he spent a pleasant evening, the topics of conversation turning chiefly upon the glories of Port Natal, and Roland’s recent adventure with Hopper. Had anything been wanted to put the finishing touch to Roland’s resolution, that little adventure would have supplied it.
It was past ten when he returned home. The noisy throng38 had dispersed39 then, all except Gerald. Gerald had just accomplished40 his tasks, and was now gracefully41 enjoying a little repose43 before the fire; his head on the back of my lady’s low embroidered44 chair, and his feet extended on either hob.
“What’s for supper?” asked Roland, turning his eyes on the cloth, which bore traces that a party, and not a scrupulously45 tidy one, had already partaken of that meal.
“Bones,” said Gerald.
“Bones?” echoed Roland.
“Bones,” rejoined Gerald. “They made a show of broiling46 some downstairs, but they took good care to cut off the meat first. Where all the meat goes to in this house, I can’t think. If a good half of the leg of mutton didn’t go down from dinner to-day, I possessed47 no eyes.”
“They are not going to put me off with bones,” said Roland, ringing the bell. “When a man’s worked within an ace4 of his life, he must eat. Martha,”—when the maid appeared—“I want some supper.”
“There’s no meat in the house, sir. There were some broiled48 bo—”
“You may eat the bones yourself,” interrupted Roland. “I never saw such a house as this! Loads of provisions come into it, and yet there’s rarely anything to be had when it’s wanted. You must go and order me some oysters49. Get four dozen. I am famished50. If I hadn’t had a substantial tea, supplied me out of charity, I should be fainting before this! It’s a shame! I wonder my lady puts up with you two incapable51 servants.”
“There are no oysters to be had at this time, Mr. Roland,” returned Martha, who was accustomed to these interludes touching52 the housekeeping. “The shop shuts up at ten.”
Roland beat on the floor with the heel of his boot. Then he turned round fiercely to Martha. “Is there nothing in the house that’s eatable?”
“There’s an apple pie, sir.”
“Bring that, then. And while I am going into it, the cook can do me some eggs and ham.”
Gerald had turned round at this, angry in his turn, “If there’s an apple pie, Martha, why could you not have produced it for our supper? You know we were obliged to put up with cheese and butter!”
“Cook told me not to bring it up, Master Gerald. My lady gave no orders. Cook says if she made ten pies a day they’d get eaten, once you young gentlemen knew of their being in the house.”
“Well?” said Gerald. “She doesn’t provide them out of her own pocket.”
Roland paid his court to the apple pie, Gerald joining him. After it was finished, they kept the cook employed some time with the eggs and ham. Then Gerald, who had to be up betimes for morning school, went to bed; and I only hope he did not suffer from nightmare.
Roland took up his place before the fire, in the same chair and position vacated by Gerald. Thus he waited for Lady Augusta. It was not long before she came in.
“Come and sit down a bit, good mother,” said Roland. “I want to talk to you.”
“My dear, I am not in a talking humour,” she answered. “My head aches, and I shall be glad to get to bed. It was a stupid, humdrum53 evening.”
She was walking to the side table to light her bed-candle, but Roland interposed. He drew the couch close to the fire, settled his mother in it, and took his seat with her. She asked him what he had to say so particularly that night.
“I am going to tell you what it is. But don’t you fly out at me, mother dear,” he coaxingly54 added. “I find I can’t get along here at all, mother, and I shall be off to Port Natal.”
Lady Augusta did fly out—with a scream, and a start from her seat. Roland pulled her into it again.
“Now, mother, just listen to me quietly. I can’t bear my life at Galloway’s. I can’t do the work. If I stopped at it, I’m not sure but I should do something desperate. You wouldn’t like to see your son turn jockey, and ride in a pink silk jacket and yellow breeches on the race-course; and you wouldn’t like to see him enlist55 for a soldier, or run away for a sailor! Well, worse than that might come, if I stopped at Galloway’s. Taking it at the very best, I should only be worked into my grave.”
“I will not hear another word, Roland,” interrupted Lady Augusta. “How can you be so wicked and ungrateful?”
“What is there wicked in it?” asked Roland. “Besides, you don’t know all. I can’t tell you what I don’t owe in Helstonleigh, and I’ve not a sixpence to pay it with. You wouldn’t like to see me marched off to prison, mother.”
Lady Augusta gave another shriek56.
“And there’s a third reason why I wish to be away,” went on Roland, drowning the noise. “But I’ll not go into that, because it concerns myself alone.”
Of course the announcement that it concerned himself alone, only made my lady the more inquisitive57 to hear it. She peremptorily58 ordered Roland to disclose it to her.
But Roland could be as peremptory59 as she, and he declined, in positive terms, to explain further.
“It would not afford you any pleasure, mother,” he said, “and I should not have mentioned it but as an additional reason why I must be off.”
“You unhappy boy! You have been doing something dreadful!”
“It’s not over-good,” acknowledged Roland. “Perhaps I’ll write you word all about it from London. I’ve not smothered60 William Yorke, or set old Galloway’s office on fire, and those respected gentlemen are my two bêtes noires. So don’t look so scared, mother.”
“Roland!” uttered Lady Augusta, as the fact struck her, “if you go off in this manner, all the money that was paid with you to Mr. Galloway will be lost! I might as well have sent it down the gutter61.”
“So I said at the time,” answered cool Roland. “Never mind that, mother. What’s that paltry62 hundred or two, compared with the millions I shall make? And as to these folks that I owe money to—”
“They’ll be coming upon me,” interposed Lady Augusta. “Heaven knows, I have enough to pay.”
“They will do nothing of the sort,” said Roland. “You have no legal right to pay my debts. Not one of them but has been contracted since I was of age. If they come to you, tell them so.”
“Roland, Lord Carrick gave you money once or twice when he was here,” resumed Lady Augusta, “I know he did. What have you done with it all?”
“Money melts,” responded Roland. “Upon my word of honour, I do believe it must melt at times; it vanishes so quickly.”
My lady could not cavil63 at the assertion. She was only too much given to the same belief herself. Roland continued:
“In a little while—about three months, as I calculate—after my arrival at Port Natal, I shall be in a position to send funds home to pay what I owe; and be assured, I will faithfully send them. There is the finest opening, mother, at Port Natal! Fortunes are being made there daily. In a few years’ time I shall come home with my pockets lined, and shall settle down by you for life.”
“If I could only think the prospect64 was so good a one!” exclaimed Lady Augusta.
“It is good,” said Roland emphatically. “Why, mother, Port Natal is all the rage: hundreds are going out. Were there no reasons to urge me away, you would be doing the most unwise thing possible to stand in the light of my going. If I were at something that I liked, that I was not worked to death at; if I did not owe a shilling; if my prospects65 here, in short, were first-rate, and my life a bower66 of rose-leaves, I should do well to throw it all up for Port Natal.”
“But in what manner are these great fortunes made?” wondered Lady Augusta.
“Of course, I shall acquire all that information. Stuck in this know-nothing Helstonleigh, I can only state the fact that they are made. I dare say I can find an opening for one or two of the boys out there.”
Lady Augusta—persuadable as ever was a child—began to look upon the plan with less prejudiced eyes—as Roland would have styled it. As to Roland, so fully42 had he become imbued67 with the golden harvest to be gathered at Port Natal, that had an angel descended68 to undeceive him, he would have refused to listen.
“There will be the losing you, Roland,” said Lady Augusta, hesitating whether she should scold or cry.
“Law, what’s that?” returned Roland, slightingly. “You’ll get over that in a day, and return thanks that there’s one source of trouble less. Look here! If I were in the luck of having a good commission given me in some crack Indian regiment69, would you not say, ‘Oh be joyful,’ and start me off at once? What are you the worse for George’s being away? Mother!” he added somewhat passionately70, “would you like to see me tied down for life to an old proctor’s office?”
“But, Roland, you cannot go out without money. There’ll be your outfit71 and your passage; and you can’t land with empty pockets.”
“As to an outfit,” said Roland, “you must not run your head upon such a one as George had. A few new shirts, and a pair or two of waterproof72 boots—that will be about all I shall want. I remember shirts and waterproof boots were mentioned by Bagshaw. What I shall chiefly want to buy will be tools, and household utensils73: frying-pans, and items of that sort.”
“Frying-pans!” ejaculated Lady Augusta.
“I am sure frying-pans were mentioned,” answered Roland. “Perhaps it was only one, though, for private use. I’ll hunt up Bagshaw’s list, and look it over.”
“And where’s the money to come from?” repeated my lady.
“I shall get it of Lord Carrick. I know he’ll give me what I want. I often talked to him about Port Natal when he was here.”
“I had a letter from him to-day,” said Lady Augusta. “He will be returning to Ireland next week.”
“Will he, though?” uttered Roland, aroused by the information. “I have no time to lose, then.”
“Well, Roland I must hear more about this to-morrow, and consider it over,” said my lady, rising to retire. “I have not said yet you are to go, mind.”
“I shall go, whether you say it or not,” replied frank Roland. “And when I come home with my pockets lined, a rich man for life, the first thing I’ll buy shall be a case of diamonds for you.”
“Stupid boy!” said she laughing. “I shall be too old to wear diamonds then.”
“Oh no, you won’t.”
My lady gave him a hearty74 kiss, and went to bed and to sleep. Roland’s visions were not without their effect upon her, and she had a most delightful75 dream of driving about in a charming city, whose streets were paved with malachite marble, brilliant to look upon. How many times Roland had dreamt that Port Natal was paved with gold, he alone knew.
Had Roland been troubled with over-sensitiveness in regard to other people’s feelings, and felt himself at a loss how to broach76 the matter to Mr. Galloway, he might have been pleased to find that the way was, in a degree, paved to him. On the following morning Mr. Galloway was at the office considerably77 before his usual hour; consequently, before Roland Yorke. Upon looking over Roland’s work of the previous day, he found that a deed—a deed that was in a hurry, too—had been imperfectly drawn78 out, and would have to be done over again. The cause must have been sheer carelessness, and Mr. Galloway naturally felt angered. When the gentleman arrived, he told him what he thought of his conduct, winding79 up the reproaches with a declaration that Roland did him no service at all, and would be as well out of the office as in it.
“I am glad of that, sir,” was Roland’s answer. “What I was about to tell you will make no difference, then. I wish to leave, sir.”
“Do you?” retorted Mr. Galloway.
“I am going to leave, sir,” added Roland, rather improving upon the assertion. “I am going to Port Natal.”
Mr. Galloway was a little taken aback. “Going to where?” cried he.
“To Port Natal.”
“To Port Natal!” echoed Mr. Galloway in the most unbounded astonishment80, for not an inkling of Roland’s long-thought-of project had ever reached him. “What on earth should you want there?”
“To make my fortune,” replied Roland.
“Oh!” said Mr. Galloway. “When do you start?”
“It is quite true, sir,” continued Roland. “Of course I could not go without informing you.”
“Do you start to-day?” repeated Mr. Galloway, in the same mocking tone.
“No, I don’t,” said Roland. “But I shall start, sir, before long, and I beg you to believe me. I have talked Lady Augusta over to the plan, and I shall get the money for it from Lord Carrick. I might drum on here all my life and never rise to be anything better than a proctor, besides having my life worked out of me; whereas, if I can get to Port Natal, my fortune’s made. Hundreds and thousands of enterprising spirits are emigrating there, and they are all going to make their fortunes.”
Had Mr. Galloway not been angry, he would have laughed out-right. “Yorke,” said he, “did you ever hear of a sickness that fell suddenly upon this kingdom, some years ago? It was called the gold fever. Hundreds and thousands, as you phrase it, caught the mania81, and flocked out to the Australian gold-diggings, to ‘make their fortunes’ by picking up gold. Boy!”—laying his hand on Roland’s shoulder—“how many of those, think you, instead of making their fortunes, only went out TO DIE?”
“That was not Port Natal, sir.”
“It was not. But, unless some of you wild young men come to your senses, we shall have a second edition of the Australian madness at Port Natal. Nothing can be more futile82 than these visionary schemes, Roland Yorke; they are like the apples of Sodom—fair and promising to the eye, ashes to the taste. Do not you be deceived by them.”
“One must get on at Port Natal, sir.”
“If one does not get ‘off,’” returned Mr. Galloway, in a cynical83 tone that chafed84 Roland’s ear. “The stream that flocked out to the gold-diggings all thought they should get on—each individual was fully persuaded that he should come home in a year or two with a plum in each of his breeches pockets. Where one made his way, Roland—made wealth—many starved; died; vanished, it was not known how; were never heard of by their friends, or saw old England again. What good do you suppose you could do at Port Natal?”
“I intend to do a great deal,” said Roland.
“But suppose you found you could do none—suppose it, I say—what would become of you out in a strange place, without money, and without friends?”
“Well,” returned Roland, who was never at a loss for an answer: “if such an impossible thing as a failure were to turn up, I should come back to my Uncle Carrick, and make him start me in something else.”
“Ah!” mockingly observed Mr. Galloway, “a rolling stone gathers no moss85. Meanwhile, Mr. Roland Yorke, suppose you come down from the clouds to your proper business. Draw out this deed again, and see if you can accomplish it to a little better purpose than you did yesterday.”
Roland, liking86 the tone less and less, sat down and grew sullen87. “Don’t say I did not give you notice, sir,” he observed.
But Mr. Galloway vouchsafed88 no reply. Indeed, it may be questioned if he heard the remark, for he went into his own room at the moment Roland spoke89, and shut the door after him.
“Mocking old caterpillar90!” grumbled91 angry Roland. “No fortunes at Port Natal! I’d go off, if it was only to tantalize92 him!”
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wayfarers
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| n.旅人，（尤指）徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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natal
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| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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unpaid
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| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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explicitly
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| ad.明确地，显然地 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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mandates
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| 托管（mandate的第三人称单数形式） | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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embarrassments
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| n.尴尬( embarrassment的名词复数 )；难堪；局促不安；令人难堪或耻辱的事 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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downwards
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romping
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| adj.嬉戏喧闹的，乱蹦乱闹的v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的现在分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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enjoin
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| v.命令；吩咐；禁止 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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broiling
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| adj.酷热的，炽热的，似烧的v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的现在分词 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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broiled
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| a.烤过的 | |
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oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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humdrum
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| adj.单调的，乏味的 | |
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coaxingly
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| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
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enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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cavil
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| v.挑毛病，吹毛求疵 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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broach
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| v.开瓶，提出(题目) | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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tantalize
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| vt.使干着急，逗弄 | |
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