“There,” he said. “That’s the best I can do for you, I’m afraid.”
Murmurs3 of applause and gratitude4 were heard, and Mary, her large china eyes fixed5 on the performer, cried out aloud, “Wonderful!” and gasped6 for new breath as though she were suffocating7.
Nature and fortune had vied with one another in heaping on Ivor Lombard all their choicest gifts. He had wealth and he was perfectly8 independent. He was good looking, possessed9 an irresistible10 charm of manner, and was the hero of more amorous11 successes than he could well remember. His accomplishments12 were extraordinary for their number and variety. He had a beautiful untrained tenor13 voice; he could improvise14, with a startling brilliance15, rapidly and loudly, on the piano. He was a good amateur medium and telepathist, and had a considerable first-hand knowledge of the next world. He could write rhymed verses with an extraordinary rapidity. For painting symbolical16 pictures he had a dashing style, and if the drawing was sometimes a little weak, the colour was always pyrotechnical. He excelled in amateur theatricals17 and, when occasion offered, he could cook with genius. He resembled Shakespeare in knowing little Latin and less Greek. For a mind like his, education seemed supererogatory. Training would only have destroyed his natural aptitudes18.
“Let’s go out into the garden,” Ivor suggested. “It’s a wonderful night.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Scogan, “but I for one prefer these still more wonderful arm-chairs.” His pipe had begun to bubble oozily every time he pulled at it. He was perfectly happy.
Henry Wimbush was also happy. He looked for a moment over his pince-nez in Ivor’s direction and then, without saying anything, returned to the grimy little sixteenth-century account books which were now his favourite reading. He knew more about Sir Ferdinando’s household expenses than about his own.
The outdoor party, enrolled19 under Ivor’s banner, consisted of Anne, Mary, Denis, and, rather unexpectedly, Jenny. Outside it was warm and dark; there was no moon. They walked up and down the terrace, and Ivor sang a Neapolitan song: “Stretti, stretti”—close, close—with something about the little Spanish girl to follow. The atmosphere began to palpitate. Ivor put his arm round Anne’s waist, dropped his head sideways onto her shoulder, and in that position walked on, singing as he walked. It seemed the easiest, the most natural, thing in the world. Denis wondered why he had never done it. He hated Ivor.
“Let’s go down to the pool,” said Ivor. He disengaged his embrace and turned round to shepherd his little flock. They made their way along the side of the house to the entrance of the yew20-tree walk that led down to the lower garden. Between the blank precipitous wall of the house and the tall yew trees the path was a chasm21 of impenetrable gloom. Somewhere there were steps down to the right, a gap in the yew hedge. Denis, who headed the party, groped his way cautiously; in this darkness, one had an irrational22 fear of yawning precipices23, of horrible spiked24 obstructions25. Suddenly from behind him he heard a shrill26, startled, “Oh!” and then a sharp, dry concussion27 that might have been the sound of a slap. After that, Jenny’s voice was heard pronouncing, “I am going back to the house.” Her tone was decided2, and even as she pronounced the words she was melting away into the darkness. The incident, whatever it had been, was closed. Denis resumed his forward groping. From somewhere behind Ivor began to sing again, softly:
“Phillis plus avare que tendre
Ne gagnant rien à refuser,
Un jour exigea à Silvandre
Trente moutons pour un baiser.”
The melody drooped28 and climbed again with a kind of easy languor29; the warm darkness seemed to pulse like blood about them.
“Le lendemain, nouvelle affaire:
Pour le berger le troc fut bon...”
“Here are the steps,” cried Denis. He guided his companions over the danger, and in a moment they had the turf of the yew-tree walk under their feet. It was lighter30 here, or at least it was just perceptibly less dark; for the yew walk was wider than the path that had led them under the lea of the house. Looking up, they could see between the high black hedges a strip of sky and a few stars.
“Car il obtint de la bergere...”
Went on Ivor, and then interrupted himself to shout, “I’m going to run down,” and he was off, full speed, down the invisible slope, singing unevenly31 as he went:
“Trente baisers pour un mouton.”
The others followed. Denis shambled in the rear, vainly exhorting32 everyone to caution: the slope was steep, one might break one’s neck. What was wrong with these people, he wondered? They had become like young kittens after a dose of cat-nip. He himself felt a certain kittenishness sporting within him; but it was, like all his emotions, rather a theoretical feeling; it did not overmasteringly seek to express itself in a practical demonstration33 of kittenishness.
“Be careful,” he shouted once more, and hardly were the words out of his mouth when, thump34! there was the sound of a heavy fall in front of him, followed by the long “F-f-f-f-f” of a breath indrawn with pain and afterwards by a very sincere, “Oo-ooh!” Denis was almost pleased; he had told them so, the idiots, and they wouldn’t listen. He trotted35 down the slope towards the unseen sufferer.
Mary came down the hill like a runaway36 steam-engine. It was tremendously exciting, this blind rush through the dark; she felt she would never stop. But the ground grew level beneath her feet, her speed insensibly slackened, and suddenly she was caught by an extended arm and brought to an abrupt37 halt.
She made an effort to release herself. “It’s not Anne. It’s Mary.”
Ivor burst into a peal39 of amused laughter. “So it is!” he exclaimed. “I seem to be making nothing but floaters this evening. I’ve already made one with Jenny.” He laughed again, and there was something so jolly about his laughter that Mary could not help laughing too. He did not remove his encircling arm, and somehow it was all so amusing and natural that Mary made no further attempt to escape from it. They walked along by the side of the pool, interlaced. Mary was too short for him to be able, with any comfort, to lay his head on her shoulder. He rubbed his cheek, caressed40 and caressing41, against the thick, sleek42 mass of her hair. In a little while he began to sing again; the night trembled amorously43 to the sound of his voice. When he had finished he kissed her. Anne or Mary: Mary or Anne. It didn’t seem to make much difference which it was. There were differences in detail, of course; but the general effect was the same; and, after all, the general effect was the important thing.
Denis made his way down the hill.
“Any damage done?” he called out.
“Is that you, Denis? I’ve hurt my ankle so—and my knee, and my hand. I’m all in pieces.”
“My poor Anne,” he said. “But then,” he couldn’t help adding, “it was silly to start running downhill in the dark.”
“Ass!” she retorted in a tone of tearful irritation44; “of course it was.”
He sat down beside her on the grass, and found himself breathing the faint, delicious atmosphere of perfume that she carried always with her.
“Light a match,” she commanded. “I want to look at my wounds.”
He felt in his pockets for the match-box. The light spurted45 and then grew steady. Magically, a little universe had been created, a world of colours and forms—Anne’s face, the shimmering46 orange of her dress, her white, bare arms, a patch of green turf—and round about a darkness that had become solid and utterly47 blind. Anne held out her hands; both were green and earthy with her fall, and the left exhibited two or three red abrasions48.
“Not so bad,” she said. But Denis was terribly distressed49, and his emotion was intensified50 when, looking up at her face, he saw that the trace of tears, involuntary tears of pain, lingered on her eyelashes. He pulled out his handkerchief and began to wipe away the dirt from the wounded hand. The match went out; it was not worth while to light another. Anne allowed herself to be attended to, meekly51 and gratefully. “Thank you,” she said, when he had finished cleaning and bandaging her hand; and there was something in her tone that made him feel that she had lost her superiority over him, that she was younger than he, had become, suddenly, almost a child. He felt tremendously large and protective. The feeling was so strong that instinctively52 he put his arm about her. She drew closer, leaned against him, and so they sat in silence. Then, from below, soft but wonderfully clear through the still darkness, they heard the sound of Ivor’s singing. He was going on with his half-finished song:
“Le lendemain Phillis plus tendre,
Ne voulant deplaire au berger,
Fut trop heureuse de lui rendre
Trente moutons pour un baiser.”
There was a rather prolonged pause. It was as though time were being allowed for the giving and receiving of a few of those thirty kisses. Then the voice sang on:
Aurait donne moutons et chien
Pour un baiser que le volage
à Lisette donnait pour rien.”
The last note died away into an uninterrupted silence.
“Are you better?” Denis whispered. “Are you comfortable like this?”
She nodded a Yes to both questions.
“Trente moutons pour un baiser.” The sheep, the woolly mutton—baa, baa, baa...? Or the shepherd? Yes, decidedly, he felt himself to be the shepherd now. He was the master, the protector. A wave of courage swelled54 through him, warm as wine. He turned his head, and began to kiss her face, at first rather randomly56, then, with more precision, on the mouth.
Anne averted57 her head; he kissed the ear, the smooth nape that this movement presented him. “No,” she protested; “no, Denis.”
“Why not?”
“It spoils our friendship, and that was so jolly.”
“Bosh!” said Denis.
She tried to explain. “Can’t you see,” she said, “it isn’t...it isn’t our stunt58 at all.” It was true. Somehow she had never thought of Denis in the light of a man who might make love; she had never so much as conceived the possibilities of an amorous relationship with him. He was so absurdly young, so...so...she couldn’t find the adjective, but she knew what she meant.
“Why isn’t it our stunt?” asked Denis. “And, by the way, that’s a horrible and inappropriate expression.”
“Because it isn’t.”
“But if I say it is?”
“It makes no difference. I say it isn’t.”
“I shall make you say it is.”
“All right, Denis. But you must do it another time. I must go in and get my ankle into hot water. It’s beginning to swell55.”
Reasons of health could not be gainsaid59. Denis got up reluctantly, and helped his companion to her feet. She took a cautious step. “Ooh!” She halted and leaned heavily on his arm.
“I’ll carry you,” Denis offered. He had never tried to carry a woman, but on the cinema it always looked an easy piece of heroism60.
“You couldn’t,” said Anne.
“Of course I can.” He felt larger and more protective than ever. “Put your arms round my neck,” he ordered. She did so and, stooping, he picked her up under the knees and lifted her from the ground. Good heavens, what a weight! He took five staggering steps up the slope, then almost lost his equilibrium61, and had to deposit his burden suddenly, with something of a bump.
Anne was shaking with laughter. “I said you couldn’t, my poor Denis.”
“I can,” said Denis, without conviction. “I’ll try again.”
“It’s perfectly sweet of you to offer, but I’d rather walk, thanks.” She laid her hand on his shoulder and, thus supported, began to limp slowly up the hill.
“My poor Denis!” she repeated, and laughed again. Humiliated62, he was silent. It seemed incredible that, only two minutes ago, he should have been holding her in his embrace, kissing her. Incredible. She was helpless then, a child. Now she had regained63 all her superiority; she was once more the far-off being, desired and unassailable. Why had he been such a fool as to suggest that carrying stunt? He reached the house in a state of the profoundest depression.
He helped Anne upstairs, left her in the hands of a maid, and came down again to the drawing-room. He was surprised to find them all sitting just where he had left them. He had expected that, somehow, everything would be quite different—it seemed such a prodigious64 time since he went away. All silent and all damned, he reflected, as he looked at them. Mr. Scogan’s pipe still wheezed65; that was the only sound. Henry Wimbush was still deep in his account books; he had just made the discovery that Sir Ferdinando was in the habit of eating oysters66 the whole summer through, regardless of the absence of the justifying67 R. Gombauld, in horn-rimmed spectacles, was reading. Jenny was mysteriously scribbling68 in her red notebook. And, seated in her favourite arm-chair at the corner of the hearth69, Priscilla was looking through a pile of drawings. One by one she held them out at arm’s length and, throwing back her mountainous orange head, looked long and attentively70 through half-closed eyelids71. She wore a pale sea-green dress; on the slope of her mauve-powdered decolletage diamonds twinkled. An immensely long cigarette-holder projected at an angle from her face. Diamonds were embedded72 in her high-piled coiffure; they glittered every time she moved. It was a batch73 of Ivor’s drawings—sketches of Spirit Life, made in the course of tranced tours through the other world. On the back of each sheet descriptive titles were written: “Portrait of an Angel, 15th March ‘20;” “Astral Beings at Play, 3rd December ‘19;” “A Party of Souls on their Way to a Higher Sphere, 21st May ‘21.” Before examining the drawing on the obverse of each sheet, she turned it over to read the title. Try as she could—and she tried hard—Priscilla had never seen a vision or succeeded in establishing any communication with the Spirit World. She had to be content with the reported experiences of others.
“What have you done with the rest of your party?” she asked, looking up as Denis entered the room.
He explained. Anne had gone to bed, Ivor and Mary were still in the garden. He selected a book and a comfortable chair, and tried, as far as the disturbed state of his mind would permit him, to compose himself for an evening’s reading. The lamplight was utterly serene74; there was no movement save the stir of Priscilla among her papers. All silent and all damned, Denis repeated to himself, all silent and all damned...
It was nearly an hour later when Ivor and Mary made their appearance.
“We waited to see the moon rise,” said Ivor.
“It was gibbous, you know,” Mary explained, very technical and scientific.
“It was so beautiful down in the garden! The trees, the scent75 of the flowers, the stars...” Ivor waved his arms. “And when the moon came up, it was really too much. It made me burst into tears.” He sat down at the piano and opened the lid.
“There were a great many meteorites76,” said Mary to anyone who would listen. “The earth must just be coming into the summer shower of them. In July and August...”
But Ivor had already begun to strike the keys. He played the garden, the stars, the scent of flowers, the rising moon. He even put in a nightingale that was not there. Mary looked on and listened with parted lips. The others pursued their occupations, without appearing to be seriously disturbed. On this very July day, exactly three hundred and fifty years ago, Sir Ferdinando had eaten seven dozen oysters. The discovery of this fact gave Henry Wimbush a peculiar77 pleasure. He had a natural piety78 which made him delight in the celebration of memorial feasts. The three hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the seven dozen oysters...He wished he had known before dinner; he would have ordered champagne79.
On her way to bed Mary paid a call. The light was out in Anne’s room, but she was not yet asleep.
“Why didn’t you come down to the garden with us?” Mary asked.
“I fell down and twisted my ankle. Denis helped me home.”
Mary was full of sympathy. Inwardly, too, she was relieved to find Anne’s non-appearance so simply accounted for. She had been vaguely80 suspicious, down there in the garden—suspicious of what, she hardly knew; but there had seemed to be something a little louche in the way she had suddenly found herself alone with Ivor. Not that she minded, of course; far from it. But she didn’t like the idea that perhaps she was the victim of a put-up job.
“I do hope you’ll be better to-morrow,” she said, and she commiserated81 with Anne on all she had missed—the garden, the stars, the scent of flowers, the meteorites through whose summer shower the earth was now passing, the rising moon and its gibbosity. And then they had had such interesting conversation. What about? About almost everything. Nature, art, science, poetry, the stars, spiritualism, the relations of the sexes, music, religion. Ivor, she thought, had an interesting mind.
The two young ladies parted affectionately.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
murmurs
|
|
| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
suffocating
|
|
| a.使人窒息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
amorous
|
|
| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
accomplishments
|
|
| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
tenor
|
|
| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
improvise
|
|
| v.即兴创作；临时准备，临时凑成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
brilliance
|
|
| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
symbolical
|
|
| a.象征性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
theatricals
|
|
| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
aptitudes
|
|
| （学习方面的）才能，资质，天资( aptitude的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
enrolled
|
|
| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
yew
|
|
| n.紫杉属树木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
chasm
|
|
| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
irrational
|
|
| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
precipices
|
|
| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
spiked
|
|
| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
obstructions
|
|
| n.障碍物( obstruction的名词复数 )；阻碍物；阻碍；阻挠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
concussion
|
|
| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
drooped
|
|
| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
languor
|
|
| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
unevenly
|
|
| adv.不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
exhorting
|
|
| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
thump
|
|
| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
runaway
|
|
| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
tightened
|
|
| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
peal
|
|
| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
caressed
|
|
| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
caressing
|
|
| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
sleek
|
|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
amorously
|
|
| adv.好色地，妖艳地；脉；脉脉；眽眽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
spurted
|
|
| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
shimmering
|
|
| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
abrasions
|
|
| n.磨损( abrasion的名词复数 )；擦伤处；摩擦；磨蚀（作用） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
distressed
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
intensified
|
|
| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
sage
|
|
| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
swelled
|
|
| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
swell
|
|
| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
randomly
|
|
| adv.随便地，未加计划地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
averted
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
stunt
|
|
| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
gainsaid
|
|
| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
heroism
|
|
| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
equilibrium
|
|
| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
humiliated
|
|
| 感到羞愧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
prodigious
|
|
| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
wheezed
|
|
| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
oysters
|
|
| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
justifying
|
|
| 证明…有理( justify的现在分词 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
scribbling
|
|
| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
embedded
|
|
| a.扎牢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
batch
|
|
| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
meteorites
|
|
| n.陨星( meteorite的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
piety
|
|
| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
champagne
|
|
| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
commiserated
|
|
| v.怜悯，同情( commiserate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |