"House quite full, sir," replied Dixon. "Colonel Jefferson, sir, of the First Life-guards; Capting Severn, sir, of the Second Life-guards, and his lady; Markis Towcester, as have jist jined the Blues28; Honble Capting Shaddock, of the Eighteenth 'Ussars; Lord Roderick Douglas, of the Scots Fusiliers; and--"
"drop the Army List, Dixon," growled29 his master, at that moment performing heavily on his head with a pair of hair-brushes; "who else is here?"
"There's the Danish Minister, sir--which I won't try to pronounce his name--and his lady; and there's the Dook and Duchess of Northallerton--which the Dook has the gout that bad, his man told me--used to be in our ridgment, Sir Duncan, and was bought out by his mother on his father's death--as to be past bearin' sometimes; and Lady Fairfax, sir; and Lady Dunkeld, as is Lady Muriel's cousin, sir; and a Mr. Pitcairn, as is a distant relation of the family's; and a Mr. Fletcher, as is, I'm told, a hartist, or something of that kind, sir--he hasn't brought a man here, sir; so I'm unable to say; but he seems to be well thought of, sir; quite at his ease, as they say, among the company, sir."
"Dear me!" said Duncan Forbes, suspending the action of the hair-brushes for a moment, while he grinned grimly; "you seem to be a great observer, Dixon."
"Well, sir, one can't keep one's hears shut entirely30, nor one's eyes, and I noticed this gentleman took a kind of leading part in the talk at dinner, sir, yesterday. O, I forgot, sir; Miss Kilsyth have not been well for the last two or three days, sir; kep' her room, havin' caught cold returnin' from a luncheon-party up at what they call a shealing--kind of 'ut, sir, in the 'ills, where they put up when stalkin', as I make out, sir,--and her maid says is uncommon31 low and bad."
"Ill, is she?--Miss Kilsyth? Jove, that's bad! Haven't they sent for a doctor, or that kind of thing?"
"Yes, sir, they have sent for a doctor; and he's been, sir; leastways when I say doctor, sir, I mean to say the 'pothecary from the village, sir. Comes on a shady kind of a cob, sir, and I shouldn't say knew much about it. Beg your pardon, sir--dinner gong!"
Sir Duncan Forbes' toilette is happily complete at the time of this announcement, and he sallies downstairs towards the drawing-room. Entering, he finds most of the company already assembled; and in the careless glance which he throws around as the door closes behind him, he recognises a bevy32 of London friends, looking, with perhaps the addition of a little bronze in the men, and a little plumpness in the ladies, exactly as he left them at the concluding ball of the season two months ago. Some he has not seen for a longer period, his host among them. Kilsyth of Kilsyth, keen sportsman, whether with rod or gun; landlord exercising influence over his tenants33, not by his position alone, but by the real indubitable interest which he takes in their well-being34; lord-lieutenant of his county, first patron and best judge at its agricultural meetings, chairman of the bench of magistrates35, prime mover in the herring fishery,--what does Kilsyth of Kilsyth do in London? Little enough, truth to tell; gives a very perfunctory attendance at the House of Commons, meets old friends at Brookes's, dines at a few of the earlier meetings of the Fox Club, and does his utmost to keep out of the way of the Liberal whip, who dare not offend him, and yet grieves most lamentably36 over his shortcomings at St. Stephen's. See him now as he stands on the hearth-rug, with his back to the drawing-room fire, a hale hearty37 man, whose fifty years of life have never bent38 his form nor scarcely dimmed the fire in his bright blue eye. Life, indeed, has been pretty smooth and pleasant to Kilsyth since, when a younger son, he was gazetted to the 42d; and after a slight sojourn39 in that distinguished40 regiment41, was sent for by his father to take the place of his elder brother, killed by the bursting of a gun when out on a stalk. A shadow--deep enough at the moment, but now mercifully lightened by Time, the grim yet kindly42 consoler--had fallen across his path when his wife, whom he loved so well, and whom he had taken from her quiet English home, where, a simple parson's daughter, she had captivated the young Highland7 officer, had died in giving birth to a second child. But he had survived the shock; and long afterwards, when he had succeeded to the family title and estates, and was, indeed, himself well on the way to middle age, had married again. Kilsyth's second wife was the sister of a Scottish earl of old family and small estate, a high-bred woman, much younger than her husband, who had borne him two children (little children at the time our story opens), and who, not merely in her Highland neighbourhood, but in the best society of London, in which she was ungrudgingly received, was looked upon as a pattern wife. With the name of Lady Muriel Kilsyth the most inveterate44 scandalmongers had never ventured to make free. The mere43 fact of her being more than twenty years younger than her husband had given them the greatest hope of onslaught when the marriage was first announced; but Lady Muriel had calmly faced her foes45, and not the most observant of them had as yet espied46 the smallest flaw in her harness. Her behaviour to her husband, without being in the least degree gushing47, was so thoroughly circumspect48, they lived together on such excellent terms of something that was evidently more than amity49, though it never pretended to devotion, that the scandalmongers were utterly defeated. Balked50 in one direction, they launched out in another; they could not degrade the husband by their pity, but they could mildly annoy the wife with reflections on her conduct to her step-children. "Poor little things," they said, "with such an ambitious woman for stepmother, and children of her own to think of! Ronald may struggle on; but as for poor Madeleine--" and uplifted eyebrows51 and shrugged52 shoulders completed the sentence. It is needless to say that Kilsyth himself heard none of these idle babblings, or that if he had, he would have treated them with scorn. "My lady" was to him the incarnation of every thing that was right and proper, that was clever and far-seeing; he trusted her implicitly53 in every matter; he looked up to and respected her; he suffered himself to be ruled by her, and she ruled him very gently and with the greatest talent and tact54 in every matter of his life save one. Lady Muriel was all-powerful with her husband, except when, as he thought, her views were in the least harsh or despotic towards his daughter Madeleine; and then he quietly but calmly held his own way. Madeleine was his idol55, and no one, not even his wife, could shake him in his adoration56 of her. As he stands on the hearth-rug, there is a shadow on his bright cheery face, for he has had bad news of his darling since he came in from shooting,--has been forbidden to go to her room lest he should disturb her; and at each opening of the door he looks anxiously in that direction, half wishing, half fearing Lady Muriel's advent57 with the doctor's latest verdict on the invalid58.
The thin slight wiry man talking to Kilsyth, and rattling59 on garrulously60 in spite of his friend's obvious preoccupation, is Captain Sèvern, perhaps the best steeple-chase rider in England, and untouchable at billiards61 by any amateur. He is a slangy, turfy, raffish62 person, hating ladies' society, and using a singular vocabulary full of Bell's-Life idioms. He is, however, well connected, and has a charming wife, for whose sake he is tolerated; a lovely little fairy of a woman, whose heart is as big as her body; the merriest, most cheerful, best-tempered creature, trolling out her little French chansons in a clear bird-like voice; acting63 in charades64 with infinite character and piquancy65; and withal the idol of the poor in the neighbourhood of their hunting-box in Leicestershire; and the quickest, softest, and most attentive66 nurse in sickness, as a dozen of her friends could testify.
That bald head which you can just see over the top of the Morning Post belongs to the Duke of Northallerton, who has been all his life more or less engaged in politics; who has, when his party has been in office, held respectively the important positions of Postmaster-General and Privy67 Seal; and who was never so well described as by one of his private secretaries, who declared tersely68 that his grace was a "kind old pump." Outwardly he is a tall man of about fifty-five, with a high forehead, which has stood his friend through life, and obtained him credit for gifts which he never possessed69, a boiled-gooseberry eye, a straight nose, and projecting buck-teeth. As becomes an old English gentleman, he wears a very high white cravat70 and a large white waistcoat; indeed it is only within the last few years that he has relinquished71 his blue coat and gold buttons, and very tight pantaloons. He is reading the paper airily through his double glasses, and uttering an occasional "Ha!" and "Dear me!" as he wades72 through the movements of the travelling aristocracy; but from time to time he removes the glasses from his nose, and looks up with a half-peevish glance at his neighbour, Colonel Jefferson. Charley Jefferson (no one ever called him any thing else) has a large photograph album before him, at which he is not looking in the least; on the contrary, his glance is directed straight in front of him; and as he stands six feet four, his eyes, when he is sitting, would be about on a level with a short man's head; and he is tugging73 at his great sweeping74 grizzled moustache, and fidgeting with his leg, and muttering between his clinched75 teeth at intervals76 short phrases, which sound like "Little brute77! break his neck! beastly little cad!" and suchlike.
The individual thus objurgated by the Colonel is highly thought of by Sir Bernard Burke, and known to Debrett as John Ulick Delatribe, Marquis of Towcester, eldest78 son of the Duke of Plymouth, who has just been gazetted to the Blues, after some years at Eton and eighteen months' wandering on the Continent. Though he is barely twenty, a more depraved young person is rarely to be found; his tutor, the Rev79. Merton Sandford, who devoted80 the last few years of his life to him, and who has retired81 to his well-earned preferment of the largest living in the duke's gift, lifts up his eyes and shakes his head when, over a quiet bottle of claret with an old college friend, he speaks of Lord Towcester. The boy's reputation had preceded him to London; a story from the Viennese Embassy, of which he was the hero, came across in a private note to Blatherwick of the F.O., enclosed in the official white sheep-skin despatch-bag, and before night was discussed in half the smoking-rooms in Pall-Mall. The youngsters laughed at the anecdote82 and envied its hero; but older men looked grave; and Charley Jefferson, standing83 in the middle of a knot of men on the steps of the Rag, said he was deuced glad that the lad wasn't coming into his regiment; for if that story were true, the service would be none the better for such an accession to it, as, if it were his business, he should take an early opportunity of pointing out; and the listeners, who knew that Colonel Jefferson was the best soldier and the strictest martinet84 throughout the household cavalry85, and who marked the expression of his face as he pulled his moustache and strode away after delivering his dictum, thought that perhaps it was better for Towcester that his lot was cast in a different corps86. You would not have thought there was much harm in the boy, though, from his appearance. Look at him now, as he bends over Lady Fairfax, until his face almost touches her soft glossy87 hair. It is a round, boyish, ingenuous88 face, though the eyes are rather deeply set, and there is something cruel about the mouth which the thin downy moustache utterly fails to hide. As Lady Fairfax turns her large dark eyes on her interlocutor, and looks up at him, her brilliant white teeth flashing in an irrepressible smile, the Colonel's growls89 become more frequent, and he tugs90 at his moustache more savagely91 than ever. Why? If you know any thing about these people, you will remember that ten years ago, when Emily Fairfax was Emily Ponsonby, and lived with her old aunt, Lady Mary, in the dull rambling92 old house at Kew, Charley Jefferson, a penniless cornet in what were then the 13th Light Dragoons, was quartered at Hounslow; danced, rode, and flirted93 with her; carried off a lock of her hair when the regiment was ordered to India; and far away up country, in utter ignorance of all that was happening in England, used to gaze at it and kiss it, long after Miss Ponsonby had married old Lord Fairfax, and had become the reigning94 belle95 of the London season. Old Lord Fairfax is dead now, and Charley Jefferson has come into his uncle's fortune; and there is no cause or impediment why these twain should not become one flesh, save that Emily is still coquettish, and Charley is horribly jealous; and so matters are still in the balance.
The little old gentleman in the palpable flaxen wig96 and gold spectacles, who is poring over that case of Flaxman's cameos in genuine admiration97, is Count Bulow, the Danish Ambassador; and the little old lady whose face is so wrinkled as to suggest an idea of gratitude98 that she is a lady, and consequently is not compelled to shave, is his wife. They are charming old people, childless themselves, but the cause of constant matchmaking in others. More flirtations come to a successful issue in the embassy at Eaton-place than in any other house in town; and the old couple, who have for years worthily99 represented their sovereign, are sponsors to half the children in Belgravia. They are both art-lovers, and their house is crammed100 with good things--pictures from Munich and Düsseldorf, choice bits of Thorwaldsen, big elk-horns, and quaint101 old Scandinavian drinking-cups. Old Lady Potiphar, who has the worst reputation and the bitterest tongue in London, says you meet "odd people" at the Bulows'; said "odd people" being artists and authors, English and foreign. Mr. Fletcher, R. A., who is just now talking to the Countess, is one of the most favoured guests at the embassy, but he is not an "odd person," even to Lady Potiphar, for he goes into what she calls "sassiety," and has been "actially asked to Mar'bro' House"--where Lady Potiphar is not invited. A quiet, unpretending, gentlemanly, middle-aged102 man, Mr. Fletcher; wearing his artistic103 honours with easy dignity, and by no means oblivious104 of the early days when he gave drawing-lessons at per hour to many of the nobility who now call him their friend. There are three or four young ladies present, who need no particular description, and who are dividing the homage105 of Captain Shaddock; while Lord Roderick Douglas, a young nobleman to whom Nature has been more bountiful in nose than in forehead, and Mr. Pitcairn, a fresh-coloured, freckled106, blue-eyed gentleman, lithe107 and active as a greyhound, are muttering in a corner, making arrangements for the next day's shooting.
The entrance of Sir Duncan Forbes caused a slight commotion108 in the party; and every one had a look or a word of welcome for the new comer, for he was a general favourite. He moved easily from group to group, shaking hands and chatting pleasantly. Kilsyth, who was specially109 fond of him, grasped his hand warmly; the Duke laid aside the Morning Post in the midst of a most interesting leader, in which Mr. Bright was depicted110 as a pleasant compound of Catiline and Judas Iscariot; Count Bulow gave up his cameos; and even grim Charley Jefferson relaxed in his feverish111 supervision112 of Lord Towcester.
As for the ladies, they unanimously voted Duncan charming, quite charming, and could not make too much of him.
"And where have you come from, Duncan?" asked Kilsyth, when the buzz consequent on his entrance had subsided113.
"Last, from Burnside," said Duncan.
"Burnside!--where's Burnside?" asked Captain Severn shortly.
"Burnside is on the Tay, the prettiest house in all Scotland, if I may venture to say so, being at Kilsyth; of course it don't pretend to any thing of this kind. It's a mere doll's-house of a place, nothing but a shooting-box; but in its way it's a perfect paradise."
"Are you speaking by the card, Duncan?" said Count Bulow, with the slightest foreign accent; "or was there some Peri in this paradise that gave it such fascination114 in your eyes?"
"Peri! No indeed, Count," replied. Duncan, laughing; "Burnside is a bachelor establishment,--rigidly proper, quite monastic, and all that kind of thing. It belongs to old Sir Saville Rowe, who was a swell115 doctor in London--O, ages ago!"
"Sir Saville Rowe!" exclaimed the Duke; "I know him very well. He was physician to the late King, and was knighted just before his majesty's death. I haven't seen him for years, and thought he was dead."
"He's any thing but that, Duke. A remarkably116 healthy old man, and as jolly as possible; capital company still, though he's long over seventy. And his place is really lovely; the worst of it is, it's such a tremendous distance from here. I've been travelling all day; and as it is I thought I was late for dinner. The gong sounded as I left my room."
"You were late, Duncan; you always are," said Kilsyth, with a smile. "But the Duchess is keeping you in countenance117 tonight, and Lady Muriel has not shown yet. She is up with Madeleine, who is ill, poor child."
"Ah, so I was sorry to hear. What is it? Nothing serious, I hope?"
"No, please God, no. But she caught cold, and is a little feverish tonight: the doctor is with her now, and we shall soon have his report. Ah, here is the Duchess."
The Duchess of Northallerton, a tall portly woman, with a heavy ruminating118 expression of face, like a sedate119 cow, entered as he spoke120, and advancing said a few gracious nothings to Duncan Forbes. She was closely followed by a servant, who, addressing his master, said that Lady Muriel would be engaged for a few minutes longer with the doctor, and had ordered dinner to be served.
The conversation at dinner, falling into its recent channel, was resumed by Lord Towcester, who said, "Who had you at this doctor's, Duncan? Queer sort of people, I suppose?"
"Some of his patients, perhaps," said Lady Fairfax, showing all her teeth.
"Black draught121 and that sort of thing to drink, and cold compresses on the sideboard," said Captain Severn, who was nothing if not objectionable.
"I never had better living, and never met pleasanter people," said Duncan Forbes pointedly122. "They wouldn't have suited you, perhaps, Severn, for they all talked sense; and none of them knew the odds123 on any thing--though that might have suited you perhaps, as you'd have been able to win their money."
"Only one--a Dr. Wilmot; the great man of the day, as I understand."
"O, every body has heard of Wilmot," said half-a-dozen voices.
"He's the great authority on fever, and that kind of thing," said Jefferson. "Saved Broadwater's boy in typhus last year when all the rest of them had given him up."
"Dr. Wilmot remains125 there," said Duncan; "our party broke up yesterday, but Wilmot stays on. He and I had a tremendous chat last night, and I never met a more delightful126 fellow."
At this moment Lady Muriel entered the room, and as she passed her husband's chair laid a small slip of paper on the table by his plate; then went up to Duncan Forbes, who had risen to receive her, and gave him a hearty welcome. Kilsyth took an opportunity of opening the paper, and the healthy colour left his cheeks as he read:
"M. is much worse tonight. Dr. Joyce now pronounces it undoubted scarlet-fever."
The old man rose from the table, asking permission to absent himself for a few moments; and as he moved, whispered to Duncan, who was sitting at his right-hand, "You said Dr. Wilmot was still at Burnside?"
Receiving an answer in the affirmative, he hurried into the hall, wrote a few hasty lines, and gave them to the butler, saying, "Tell Donald to ride off at once to Acray, and telegraph this message. Tell him to gallop127 all the way.".
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1
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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despoiled
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| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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highlander
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| n.高地的人，苏格兰高地地区的人 | |
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shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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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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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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clench
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| vt.捏紧（拳头等），咬紧（牙齿等），紧紧握住 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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lachrymose
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| adj.好流泪的，引人落泪的；adv.眼泪地，哭泣地 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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impelling
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| adj.迫使性的，强有力的v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的现在分词 ) | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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bevy
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| n.一群 | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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lamentably
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| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
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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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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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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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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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circumspect
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| adj.慎重的，谨慎的 | |
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amity
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| n.友好关系 | |
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balked
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| v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的过去式和过去分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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51
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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52
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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53
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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54
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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55
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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56
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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57
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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58
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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59
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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60
garrulously
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61
billiards
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| n.台球 | |
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62
raffish
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| adj.名誉不好的，无赖的，卑鄙的，艳俗的 | |
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63
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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64
charades
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| n.伪装( charade的名词复数 )；猜字游戏 | |
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65
piquancy
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| n.辛辣，辣味，痛快 | |
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66
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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67
privy
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| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
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68
tersely
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| adv. 简捷地, 简要地 | |
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69
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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70
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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71
relinquished
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| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
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72
wades
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的第三人称单数 ) | |
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73
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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74
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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75
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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76
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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77
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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78
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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79
rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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80
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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81
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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82
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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83
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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84
martinet
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| n.要求严格服从纪律的人 | |
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85
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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86
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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87
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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88
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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89
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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90
tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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92
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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93
flirted
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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95
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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96
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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97
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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98
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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99
worthily
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| 重要地，可敬地，正当地 | |
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100
crammed
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| 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) | |
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101
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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102
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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103
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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104
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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105
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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106
freckled
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| 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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107
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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108
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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109
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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110
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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111
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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112
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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113
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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114
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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115
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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116
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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117
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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118
ruminating
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| v.沉思( ruminate的现在分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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119
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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120
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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121
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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122
pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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123
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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124
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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125
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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126
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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127
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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