Lord Hampstead, though he would not go into Parliament or belong to any London Club, or walk about the streets with a chimney-pot hat, or perform any of his public functions as a young nobleman should do, had, nevertheless, his own amusements and his own extravagances. In the matter of money he was placed outside his father's liberality,—who was himself inclined to be liberal enough,—by the fact that he had inherited a considerable portion of his maternal1 grandfather's fortune. It might almost be said truly of him that money was no object to him. It was not that he did not often talk about money and think about money. He was very prone2 to do so, saying that money was the most important factor in the world's justices and injustices3. But he was so fortunately circumstanced as to be able to leave money out of his own personal consideration, never being driven by the want of it to deny himself anything, or tempted4 by a superabundance to expenditure5 which did not otherwise approve itself to him. To give 10s. or 20s. a bottle for wine because somebody pretended that it was very fine, or ￡300 for a horse when one at a ￡100 would do his work for him, was altogether below his philosophy. By his father's lodge6 gate there ran an omnibus up to town which he would often use, saying that an omnibus with company was better than a private carriage with none. He was wont7 to be angry with himself in that he employed a fashionable tailor, declaring that he incurred8 unnecessary expense merely to save himself the trouble of going elsewhere. In this, however, it may be thought that there was something of pretence10, as he was no doubt conscious of good looks, and aware probably that a skilful11 tailor might add a grace.
In his amusements he affected12 two which are especially expensive. He kept a yacht, in which he was accustomed to absent himself in the summer and autumn, and he had a small hunting establishment in Northamptonshire. Of the former little need be said here, as he spent his time on board much alone, or with friends with whom we need not follow him; but it may be said that everything about the Free Trader was done well,—for such was the name of the vessel13. Though he did not pay 10s. a bottle for his wine, he paid the best price for sails and cordage, and hired a competent skipper to look after himself and his boat. His hunting was done very much in the same way,—unless it be that in his yachting he was given to be tranquil14, and in his hunting he was very fond of hard riding. At Gorse Hall, as his cottage was called, he had all comforts, we may perhaps say much of luxury, around him. It was indeed hardly more than a cottage, having been an old farm-house, and lately converted to its present purpose. There were no noble surroundings, no stately hall, no marble staircases, no costly15 salon16. You entered by a passage which deserved no auguster name, on the right of which was the dining-room; on the left a larger chamber17, always called the drawing-room because of the fashion of the name. Beyond that was a smaller retreat in which the owner kept his books. Leading up from the end of the passage there was a steep staircase, a remnant of the old farm-house, and above them five bed-rooms, so that his lordship was limited to the number of four guests. Behind this was the kitchen and the servants' rooms—sufficient, but not more than sufficient, for such a house. Here our young democrat19 kept half-a-dozen horses, all of them—as men around were used to declare—fit to go, although they were said to have been bought at not more than ￡100 each. It was supposed to be a crotchet on the part of Lord Hampstead to assert that cheap things were as good as dear, and there were some who believed that he did in truth care as much for his horses as other people. It was certainly a fact that he never would have but one out in a day, and he was wont to declare that Smith took out his second horse chiefly that Jones might know that he did so. Down here, at Gorse Hall, the Post Office clerk had often been received as a visitor,—but not at Gorse Hall had he ever seen Lady Frances.
This lord had peculiar20 ideas about hunting, in reference to sport in general. It was supposed of him, and supposed truly, that no young man in England was more devotedly21 attached to fox-hunting than he,—and that in want of a fox he would ride after a stag, and in want of a stag after a drag. If everything else failed he would go home across the country, any friend accompanying him, or else alone. Nevertheless, he entertained a vehement22 hostility23 against all other sports.
Of racing24 he declared that it had become simply a way of making money, and of all ways the least profitable to the world and the most disreputable. He was never seen on a racecourse. But his enemies declared of him, that though he loved riding he was no judge of an animal's pace, and that he was afraid to bet lest he should lose his money.
Against shooting he was still louder. If there was in his country any tradition, any custom, any law hateful to him, it was such as had reference to the preservation25 of game. The preservation of a fox, he said, stood on a perfectly26 different basis. The fox was not preserved by law, and when preserved was used for the advantage of all who chose to be present at the amusement. One man in one day would shoot fifty pheasants which had eaten up the food of half-a-dozen human beings. One fox afforded in one day amusement to two hundred sportsmen, and was—or more generally was not—killed during the performance. And the fox during his beneficial life had eaten no corn, nor for the most part geese,—but chiefly rats and such like. What infinitesimal sum had the fox cost the country for every man who rushed after him? Then, what had been the cost of all those pheasants which one shooting cormorant27 crammed28 into his huge bag during one day's greedy sport?
But it was the public nature of the one amusement and the thoroughly29 private nature of the other which chiefly affected him. In the hunting-field the farmer's son, if he had a pony30, or the butcher-boy out of the town, could come and take his part; and if the butcher-boy could go ahead and keep his place while the man with a red coat and pink boots and with two horses fell behind, the butcher-boy would have the best of it, and incur9 the displeasure of no one. And the laws, too, by which hunting is governed, if there be laws, are thoroughly democratic in their nature. They are not, he said, made by any Parliament, but are simply assented31 to on behalf of the common need. It was simply in compliance32 with opinion that the lands of all men are open to be ridden over by the men of the hunt. In compliance with opinion foxes are preserved. In compliance with opinion coverts33 are drawn35 by this or the other pack of hounds. The Legislature had not stepped in to defile36 the statute37 book by bye-laws made in favour of the amusements of the rich. If injury were done, the ordinary laws of the country were open to the injured party. Anything in hunting that had grown to be beyond the reach of the law had become so by the force of popular opinion.
All of this was reversed in shooting, from any participation38 in which the poor were debarred by enactments39 made solely40 on behalf of the rich. Four or five men in a couple of days would offer up hecatombs of slaughtered41 animals, in doing which they could only justify42 themselves by the fact that they were acting43 as poultry-butchers for the supply of the markets of the country. There was no excitement in it,—simply the firing off of many guns with a rapidity which altogether prevents that competition which is essential to the enjoyment44 of sport. Then our noble Republican would quote Teufelsdr?ckh and the memorable45 epitaph of the partridge-slayer. But it was on the popular and unpopular elements of the two sports that he would most strongly dilate46, and on the iniquity47 of the game-laws as applying to the more aristocratic of the two. It was, however, asserted by the sporting world at large that Hampstead could not hit a haystack.
As to fishing, he was almost equally violent, grounding his objection on the tedium48 and cruelty incident to the pursuit. The first was only a matter of taste, he would allow. If a man could content himself and be happy with an average of one fish to every three days' fishing, that was the man's affair. He could only think that in such case the man himself must be as cold-blooded as the fish which he so seldom succeeded in catching49. As to the cruelty, he thought there could be no doubt. When he heard that bishops50 and ladies delighted themselves in hauling an unfortunate animal about by the gills for more than an hour at a stretch, he was inclined to regret the past piety52 of the Church and the past tenderness of the sex. When he spoke53 in this way the cruelty of fox-hunting was of course thrown in his teeth. Did not the poor hunted quadrupeds, when followed hither and thither54 by a pack of fox-hounds, endure torments55 as sharp and as prolonged as those inflicted56 on the fish? In answer to this Lord Hampstead was eloquent57 and argumentative. As far as we could judge from Nature the condition of the two animals during the process was very different. The salmon58 with the hook in its throat was in a position certainly not intended by Nature. The fox, using all its gifts to avoid an enemy, was employed exactly as Nature had enjoined59. It would be as just to compare a human being impaled60 alive on a stake with another overburdened with his world's task. The overburdened man might stumble and fall, and so perish. Things would have been hard to him. But not, therefore, could you compare his sufferings with the excruciating agonies of the poor wretch61 who had been left to linger and starve with an iron rod through his vitals. This argument was thought to be crafty62 rather than cunning by those who were fond of fishing. But he had another on which, when he had blown off the steam of his eloquence63 by his sensational64 description of a salmon impaled by a bishop51, he could depend with greater confidence. He would grant,—for the moment, though he was by no means sure of the fact,—but for the moment he would grant that the fox did not enjoy the hunt. Let it be acknowledged—for the sake of the argument—that he was tortured by the hounds rather than elated by the triumphant65 success of his own man?uvres. Lord Hampstead "ventured to say,"—this he would put forward in the rationalistic tone with which he was wont to prove the absurdity66 of hereditary67 honours,—"that in the infliction68 of all pain the question as to cruelty or no cruelty was one of relative value." Was it "tanti?" Who can doubt that for a certain maximum of good a certain minimum of suffering may be inflicted without slur69 to humanity? In hunting, one fox was made to finish his triumphant career, perhaps prematurely70, for the advantage of two hundred sportsmen. "Ah, but only for their amusement!" would interpose some humanitarian71 averse72 equally to fishing and to hunting. Then his lordship would arise indignantly and would ask his opponent, whether what he called amusement was not as beneficial, as essential, as necessary to the world as even such material good things as bread and meat. Was poetry less valuable than the multiplication73 table? Man could exist no doubt without fox-hunting. So he could without butter, without wine, or other so-called necessaries;—without ermine tippets, for instance, the original God-invested wearer of which had been doomed74 to lingering starvation and death when trapped amidst the snow, in order that one lady might be made fine by the agonies of a dozen little furry75 sufferers. It was all a case of "tanti," he said, and he said that the fox who had saved himself half-a-dozen times and then died nobly on behalf of those who had been instrumental in preserving an existence for him, ought not to complain of the lot which Fate had provided for him among the animals of the earth. It was said, however, in reference to this comparison between fishing and fox-hunting, that Lord Hampstead was altogether deficient76 in that skill and patience which is necessary for the landing of a salmon.
But men, though they laughed at him, still they liked him. He was good-humoured and kindly-hearted. He was liberal in more than his politics. He had, too, a knack77 of laughing at himself, and his own peculiarities78, which went far to redeem79 them. That a young Earl, an embryo80 Marquis, the heir of such a house as that of Trafford, should preach a political doctrine81 which those who heard ignorantly called Communistic, was very dreadful; but the horror of it was mitigated82 when he declared that no doubt as he got old he should turn Tory like any other Radical83. In this there seemed to be a covert34 allusion84 to his father. And then they could perceive that his "Communistic" principles did not prevent him from having a good eye to the value of land. He knew what he was about, as an owner of property should do, and certainly rode to hounds as well as any one of the boys of the period.
When the idea first presented itself to him that his sister was on the way to fall in love with George Roden, it has to be acknowledged that he was displeased85. It had not occurred to him that this peculiar breach86 would be made on the protected sanctity of his own family. When Roden had spoken to him of this sanctity as one of the "social idolatries," he had not quite been able to contradict him. He had wished to do so both in defence of his own consistency87, and also, if it were possible, so as to maintain the sanctity. The "divinity" which "does hedge a king," had been to him no more than a social idolatry. The special respect in which dukes and such like were held was the same. The judge's ermine and the bishop's apron88 were idolatries. Any outward honour, not earned by the deeds or words of him so honoured, but coming from birth, wealth, or from the doings of another, was an idolatry. Carrying on his arguments, he could not admit the same thing in reference to his sister;—or rather, he would have to admit it if he could not make another plea in defence of the sanctity. His sister was very holy to him;—but that should be because of her nearness to him, because of her sweetness, because of her own gifts, because as her brother he was bound to be her especial knight89 till she should have chosen some other special knight for herself. But it should not be because she was the daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter of dukes and marquises. It should not be because she was Lady Frances Trafford. Had he himself been a Post Office clerk, then would not this chosen friend have been fit to love her? There were unfitnesses, no doubt, very common in this world, which should make the very idea of love impossible to a woman,—unfitness of character, of habits, of feelings, of education, unfitnesses as to inward personal nobility. He could not say that there were any such which ought to separate his sister and his friend. If it was to be that this sweet sister should some day give her heart to a lover, why not to George Roden as well as to another? There were no such unfitnesses as those of which he would have thought in dealing90 with the lives of some other girl and some other young man.
And yet he was, if not displeased, at any rate dissatisfied. There was something which grated against either his taste, or his judgment,—or perhaps his prejudices. He endeavoured to inquire into himself fairly on this matter, and feared that he was yet the victim of the prejudices of his order. He was wounded in his pride to think that his sister should make herself equal to a clerk in the Post Office. Though he had often endeavoured, only too successfully, to make her understand how little she had in truth received from her high birth, yet he felt that she had received something which should have made the proposal of such a marriage distasteful to her. A man cannot rid himself of a prejudice because he knows or believes it to be a prejudice. That the two, if they continued to wish it, must become man and wife he acknowledged to himself;—but he could not bring himself not to be sorry that it should be so.
There were some words on the subject between himself and his father before the Marquis went abroad with his family, which, though they did not reconcile him to the match, lessened91 the dissatisfaction. His father was angry with him, throwing the blame of this untoward92 affair on his head, and he was always prone to resent censure93 thrown by any of his family on his own peculiar tenets. Thus it came to pass that in defending himself he was driven to defend his sister also. The Marquis had not been at Hendon when the revelation was first made, but had heard it in the course of the day from his wife. His Radical tendencies had done very little towards reconciling him to such a proposal. He had never brought his theories home into his own personalities94. To be a Radical peer in the House of Lords, and to have sent a Radical tailor to the House of Commons, had been enough, if not too much, to satisfy his own political ideas. To himself and to his valet, to all those immediately touching95 himself, he had always been the Marquis of Kingsbury. And so also, in his inner heart, the Marchioness was the Marchioness, and Lady Frances Lady Frances. He had never gone through any process of realizing his convictions as his son had done. "Hampstead," he said, "can this possibly be true what your mother has told me?" This took place at the house in Park Lane, to which the Marquis had summoned his son.
"Do you mean about Frances and George Roden?"
"Of course I mean that."
"I supposed you did, sir. I imagined that when you sent for me it was in regard to them. No doubt it is true."
"What is true? You speak as though you absolutely approved it."
"Then my voice has belied96 me, for I disapprove97 of it."
"You feel, I hope, how utterly98 impossible it is."
"Not that."
"Not that?"
"I cannot say that I think it to be impossible,—or even improbable. Knowing the two, as I do, I feel the probability to be on their side."
"That they—should be married?"
"That is what they intend. I never knew either of them to mean anything which did not sooner or later get itself accomplished99."
"You'll have to learn it on this occasion. How on earth can it have been brought about?" Lord Hampstead shrugged100 his shoulders. "Somebody has been very much to blame."
"You mean me, sir?"
"Somebody has been very much to blame."
"Of course, you mean me. I cannot take any blame in the matter. In introducing George Roden to you, and to my mother, and to Frances, I brought you to the knowledge of a highly-educated and extremely well-mannered young man."
"Good God!"
"I did to my friend what every young man, I suppose, does to his. I should be ashamed of myself to associate with any one who was not a proper guest for my father's table. One does not calculate before that a young man and a young woman shall fall in love with each other."
"You see what has happened."
"It was extremely natural, no doubt,—though I had not anticipated it. As I told you, I am very sorry. It will cause many heartburns, and some unhappiness."
"Unhappiness! I should think so. I must go away,—in the middle of the Session."
"It will be worse for her, poor girl."
"It will be very bad for her," said the Marquis, speaking as though his mind were quite made up on that matter.
"But nobody, as far as I can see, has done anything wrong," continued Lord Hampstead. "When two young people get together whose tastes are similar, and opinions,—whose educations and habits of thought have been the same—"
"Habits the same!"
"Habits of thought, I said, sir."
"You would talk the hind18 legs off a dog," said the Marquis, bouncing out of the room. It was not unusual with him, in the absolute privacy of his own circle, to revert101 to language which he would have felt to be unbecoming to him as Marquis of Kingsbury among ordinary people.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
prone
|
|
| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
injustices
|
|
| 不公平( injustice的名词复数 )； 非正义； 待…不公正； 冤枉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
expenditure
|
|
| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
incurred
|
|
| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
incur
|
|
| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
skilful
|
|
| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
costly
|
|
| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
salon
|
|
| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
hind
|
|
| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
democrat
|
|
| n.民主主义者，民主人士；民主党党员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
devotedly
|
|
| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
vehement
|
|
| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
racing
|
|
| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
preservation
|
|
| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
cormorant
|
|
| n.鸬鹚，贪婪的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
crammed
|
|
| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
compliance
|
|
| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
coverts
|
|
| n.隐蔽的，不公开的，秘密的( covert的名词复数 )；复羽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
covert
|
|
| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
defile
|
|
| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
statute
|
|
| n.成文法，法令，法规；章程，规则，条例 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
participation
|
|
| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
enactments
|
|
| n.演出( enactment的名词复数 )；展现；规定；通过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
slaughtered
|
|
| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
justify
|
|
| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
dilate
|
|
| vt.使膨胀，使扩大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
iniquity
|
|
| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
tedium
|
|
| n.单调；烦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
bishops
|
|
| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
bishop
|
|
| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
piety
|
|
| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
torments
|
|
| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
eloquent
|
|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
salmon
|
|
| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
enjoined
|
|
| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
impaled
|
|
| 钉在尖桩上( impale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
crafty
|
|
| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
sensational
|
|
| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
hereditary
|
|
| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
infliction
|
|
| n.（强加于人身的）痛苦，刑罚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
slur
|
|
| v.含糊地说；诋毁；连唱；n.诋毁；含糊的发音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
prematurely
|
|
| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
humanitarian
|
|
| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
averse
|
|
| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
multiplication
|
|
| n.增加，增多，倍增；增殖，繁殖；乘法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
furry
|
|
| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
deficient
|
|
| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
knack
|
|
| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
peculiarities
|
|
| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
redeem
|
|
| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
embryo
|
|
| n.胚胎，萌芽的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
mitigated
|
|
| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
displeased
|
|
| a.不快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
breach
|
|
| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
consistency
|
|
| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
knight
|
|
| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
lessened
|
|
| 减少的，减弱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
untoward
|
|
| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
censure
|
|
| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
personalities
|
|
| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
belied
|
|
| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
disapprove
|
|
| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
revert
|
|
| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |