Okay, she admitted, she was a coward.
It wasn’t the easiest thing for her to own up to the fact that she’d run away, but hey, she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly these past couple of days, and she could forgive herself for not being perfect. The truth was, if she had stayed around, things would have become even more complicated. It didn’t matter that she liked him and that he liked her; she woke up this morning knowing that she had to end things before they went too far, and when she pulled in the sandy driveway out front, she knew she’d done the right thing by coming here.
The place wasn’t much to look at. The old cottage was weathered and blended into the sea oats that surrounded it. The small, rectangular white-curtained windows were coated with salted mist, and the siding had streaks2 of gray, remnants from the fury of a dozen hurricanes. In some ways, she’d always considered the cottage a time capsule of sorts; most of the furniture was over twenty years old, the pipes groaned3 when she turned on the shower, and she had to light the stove burners with a match. But the memories of spending parts of her youth here never ceased to calm her, and after storing her bags and the groceries she’d picked up for the weekend, she’d opened the windows to air out the place. Then, grabbing a blanket, she settled into a rocker on the back porch, wanting nothing more than to watch the ocean. The steady roar of the waves was soothing4, almost hypnotic, and when the sun broke through the clouds and beams of light stretched toward the water like individual fingers from above, she found herself holding her breath.
She did that every time she came here. The first time she’d seen the light breaking through this way was soon after her visit to the cemetery5 with Doris, when she was still a little girl, and she remembered thinking that her parents had found another way to make their presence known in her life. Like heaven-sent angels, she believed they were watching out for her, always present but never intervening, as if they felt that she would always make the right decisions.
For a long time, she’d needed to believe in such things, simply because she’d often felt alone. Her grandparents had been kind and wonderful, but as much as she loved them for their care and sacrifice, she’d never quite gotten used to the feeling of being different from her peers. Her friends’ parents played softball on the weekends and looked youthful even in the soft morning light of church, an observation that made her wonder what, if anything, she was missing.
She couldn’t talk to Doris about these things. Nor could she talk to Doris about the guilt6 she felt as a result. No matter how she phrased it, Doris’s feelings would have been hurt, and even as a young girl, she’d known that.
But still, that feeling of being different had left its mark. Not only on her but on Doris as well, and it began to manifest itself during her teenage years. When Lexie would push the limits, Doris would frequently give in to avoid an argument, leaving Lexie with the belief that she could establish her own rules. She’d been a bit on the wild side when she was young, made mistakes and had too many regrets, but somehow turned serious during college. In her new, more mature incarnation, she embraced the idea that maturity7 meant thinking about risk long before you pondered the reward, and that success and happiness in life were as much about avoiding mistakes as making your mark in the world.
Last night, she knew, she’d almost made a mistake. She’d expected him to try to kiss her, and she was pleased by how resolute8 she’d been when he wanted to come inside.
She knew she’d hurt his feelings, and she was sorry for that. But what he probably didn’t realize was that it wasn’t until after he’d driven off that her heart had stopped pounding, because part of her had wanted to let him inside, no matter what it might have led to. She knew better, but she couldn’t help it. Even worse, as she tossed and turned in her bed last night, she realized she might not have the strength to do the right thing again.
In all honesty, she should have seen it coming. As the evening had worn on, she found herself comparing Jeremy to both Avery and Mr. Renaissance9, and to her surprise, Jeremy more than held his own. He had Avery’s wit and sense of humor and Mr. Renaissance’s intelligence and charm, but Jeremy seemed more comfortable with himself than either of them. Perhaps she should just chalk it up to the wonderful day she’d had, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. When was the last time she’d had a spontaneous lunch? Or sat up on Riker’s Hill? Or visited the cemetery after a party, when normally she would have gone straight to bed? No doubt the excitement and unpredictability had reminded her of how happy she’d been when she still believed that Avery and Mr. Renaissance were the men of her dreams.
But she’d been wrong then, just as she was wrong now. She knew Jeremy would solve the mystery today—okay, maybe it was just a feeling, but she was sure of it, since the answer was in one of the diaries and all he had to do was find it—and she had no doubt that he would have asked her to celebrate the solution with him. Had she been in town, the two of them would have spent most of the day together, and she didn’t want that. Then again, deep down, it was exactly what she wanted, leaving her feeling more confused than she’d been in years.
Doris had intuited every bit of it this morning when Lexie stopped by, but that wasn’t surprising. Lexie could feel the exhaustion10 around her own eyes and knew she looked like a wreck11 when she showed up out of the blue. After throwing a few days’ worth of clothes into the suitcase, she’d left her house without showering; she didn’t even attempt to explain what she was feeling. Even so, Doris had simply nodded when Lexie told her she had to go. Doris, tired though she was, seemed to understand that while she’d set the whole thing in motion, she hadn’t anticipated what might happen as a result. That was the thing about premonitions; while they might be accurate in the short term, anything beyond that was impossible to know.
So she’d come here because she had to, if only to preserve her sanity12, and she’d return to Boone Creek13 when things were back to normal. It wouldn’t take long. In a couple of days, people would have stopped talking about the ghosts and the historic homes and the stranger in town, and the visiting tourists would be nothing but a memory. The mayor would be back on the golf course, Rachel would date the wrong sorts of men, and Rodney would probably find a way to accidentally bump into Lexie near the library, no doubt breathing a sigh of relief when he realized their relationship could go back to the way it once was.
Maybe it wasn’t an exciting life, but it was her life, and she wasn’t about to let anyone or anything upset the balance. In another place and time, she might have felt differently, but thinking along those lines was pointless now. As she continued to stare out over the water, she forced herself not to imagine what might have been.
On the porch, Lexie tugged14 the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She was a big girl and she’d get over him, just as she’d gotten over the others. She was certain about it. But even with the comfort of that realization15, the roiling16 sea reminded her again of her feelings for Jeremy, and it took everything she had to keep her tears in check.
It had seemed relatively17 simple when Jeremy set out, and he’d rushed through his room at Greenleaf, making the necessary plans as he did so. Grab the map and his wallet, just in case. Leave the computer because he didn’t need it. Ditto his notes. Put Doris’s book in his leather satchel18 and bring it along. Write a note for Alvin and leave it at the front desk, despite the fact that Jed didn’t seem too pleased about it. Make sure he had the recharger for his phone—and go.
He was in and out in less than ten minutes, on his way to Swan Quarter, where the ferry would take him to Ocracoke, a village in the Outer Banks. From there, he’d head north on Highway 12 to Buxton. He figured it was the route she would have taken, and all he had to do was follow the same path and he’d reach the place in just a couple of hours.
But while the drive to Swan Quarter had been an easy one on straight and empty roads, he’d found himself thinking about Lexie and pressed the accelerator harder, trying to ward1 off the jitters19. But jitters were just another word for panic, and he didn’t panic. He prided himself on that. Nonetheless, whenever he was forced to slow the car—in places like Belhaven and Leechville— he found himself tapping the wheel with his fingers and muttering under his breath.
It was an odd feeling for him, one that only grew stronger as he drew nearer to his destination. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he didn’t want to analyze20 it. For one of the few times in his life, he was moving on autopilot, doing exactly the opposite of what logic21 demanded, thinking only about how she’d react when she saw him.
Just when he thought he was beginning to understand the reason for his odd behavior, Jeremy found himself at the ferry station staring at a thin, uniformed man who barely looked up from the magazine he was reading. The ferry to Ocracoke, he learned, didn’t run with the same regularity22 as the one from Staten Island to Manhattan, and he’d missed the last departure of the day, which meant he could either come back tomorrow or cancel his plan altogether, neither of which he was willing to consider.
“Are you sure there’s no other way that I can get to Hatteras Lighthouse?” he asked, feeling his heart pick up speed. “This is important.”
“You could drive it, I suppose.”
“How long would that take?”
“Depends on how fast you drive.”
Obviously, Jeremy thought. “Let’s say I drove fast.”
The man shrugged23, as if the whole topic bored him. “Five or six hours maybe. You’d have to head north till you get to Plymouth, then take 64 over Roanoke Island, then into Whalebone. From there, you head south into Buxton. The lighthouse is right there.”
Jeremy checked his watch; it was already coming up on one o’clock; by the time he got there, Alvin would probably be pulling into Boone Creek. No good.
“Is there another place to catch the ferry?”
“Great. Where’s that?”
“It’s about three hours in the other direction. But again, you’d have to wait until tomorrow morning.”
Over the man’s shoulder, he saw a poster displaying the various lighthouses of North Carolina. Hatteras, the grandest of them all, was in the center.
“What if I told you this was an emergency?” he asked.
For the first time, the man looked up.
“Is it an emergency?”
“Let’s just say that it is.”
“Then I’d call the Coast Guard. Or maybe the sheriff.”
“Ah,” Jeremy said, trying to remain patient. “But what you’re telling me is that there’s no way for me to get out there right now? From here, I mean.”
The man brought a finger to his chin. “I suppose you could take a boat, if you’re in such a hurry.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Jeremy thought. “And how would I arrange that?”
“I don’t know. No one’s ever asked.”
Maybe it was because he’d already come this far, or maybe it was because he realized his final words to Lexie the night before had signaled a deeper truth, but something else had taken hold of him and he wasn’t going back. He refused to go back, not after getting this close.
Nate would be expecting his call, but suddenly, that didn’t seem as important to him as it once was. Nor did the fact that Alvin would be arriving; if all went well, they could still film both this evening and tomorrow evening. He had ten hours until the lights would appear; in a fast boat, he figured that he could reach Hatteras in two. It gave him plenty of time to get there, talk to Lexie, and come back, assuming he could find someone to take him there.
Anything could go wrong, of course. He might not be able to hire a boat, but if that happened, he’d drive to Buxton if he had to. Once there, however, he couldn’t even be sure that he’d find her.
Nothing about this entire scenario26 made sense. But who cared? Once in a while, everyone was entitled to be a bit flaky, and now it was his turn. He had cash in his wallet, and he’d find a way to get there. He’d take the risk and see how things turned out with her, if only to prove to himself that he could leave her and never think about her again.
That’s what this was all about, he knew. When Doris intimated that he might never see her again, his thoughts about her had gone into overdrive. Sure, he was leaving in a couple of days, but that didn’t mean this had to be over. Not yet, anyway. He could visit down here, she could come up to New York and if it was meant to be, they’d somehow work it out. People did that all the time, right? But even if that wasn’t possible, even if she was resolute in her determination to end things completely, he wanted to hear her say it. Only then could he return to New York knowing he’d had no other choice.
And yet, as he came to a sliding stop at the first marina he saw, he realized he didn’t want her to speak those words. He wasn’t going to Buxton to say good-bye or to hear her say that she never wanted to see him again. In fact, he thought with amazement27, he knew that he was going there to find out if Alvin had been right all along.
Late afternoon was Lexie’s favorite time of day. The soft winter sunlight, combined with the austere28 natural beauty of the landscape, made the world appear dreamlike.
Even the lighthouse, with its black and white candy-cane pattern, seemed like a mirage29 from here, and as she walked the length of the beach, she tried to imagine how difficult it had been for the sailors and fishermen to navigate30 the point before it had been built. The waters just offshore31, with their shallow seabed and shifting shoals, were nicknamed the Graveyard32 of the Atlantic, and a thousand wrecks33 dotted the seafloor. The Monitor, which engaged in the first battle between ironclads during the Civil War, had been lost here. So had the Central America, laden34 with California gold, whose sinking helped cause the financial panic of 1857. Blackbeard’s ship, Queen Anne’s Revenge, had supposedly been found in the Beaufort Inlet, and half a dozen German U-boats sunk during World War II were now visited almost daily by scuba35 divers36.
Her grandfather had been a history buff, and every time they walked the beach holding hands, he told her stories about the ships that had been lost over the centuries. She learned about hurricanes and dangerous surf and faulty navigation that stranded37 boats until they were torn apart by the raging surf. Though she wasn’t particularly interested and was sometimes even frightened by the images conjured38 up, his slow, melodic39 drawl was strangely soothing, and she never tried to change the subject. Even though she was young at the time, she sensed that talking to her about these things meant a lot to him. Years later, she would learn that his ship had been torpedoed40 in World War II and that he’d barely survived.
Recalling those walks made her miss her grandfather with sudden intensity41. The strolls had been part of their daily routine, something for just the two of them, and they usually went out in the hour just before dinner, when Doris was cooking. More often than not, he’d be reading in the chair with his glasses propped42 on his nose, and he’d close the book with a sigh and set it aside. Rising from his seat, he’d ask if she’d like to take a walk to see the wild horses.
The thought of seeing the horses always thrilled her. She wasn’t quite sure why; she’d never ridden a horse, nor did she particularly want to, but she remembered how she would jump up and run to the door as soon as her grandfather mentioned it. Usually, the horses kept themselves at a distance from people and darted43 away whenever someone approached, but at dusk, they liked to graze, lowering their defenses, if only for a few minutes. It was often possible to get close enough to see their distinctive44 markings and, if you were lucky, to hear them snorting and whinnying a warning not to come any closer.
The horses were descended45 from the Spanish mustangs, and their presence on the Outer Banks dated from 1523. These days, there were all sorts of government regulations that ensured their survival, and they were as much a part of the surroundings as deer were in Pennsylvania, with the only problem being occasional overpopulation. People who lived here largely ignored them unless they became a nuisance, but for many vacationers, seeing them was one of the highlights of their visit. Lexie considered herself something of a local, but watching them always made her feel as if she were young again, with all of life’s pleasures and expectations ahead of her.
She wanted to feel that way now, if only to escape the pressures of her adult life. Doris had called to tell her that Jeremy had come in looking for her. It hadn’t surprised her. Though she’d assumed he would wonder what he’d done wrong or why she’d left, she also felt he’d get over it quickly. Jeremy was just one of those blessed people who were confident in everything they did, forever moving forward without a regret or backward glance.
Avery had been that way, and even now she still remembered how hurt she’d been by his sense of entitlement, his indifference46 to her pain. Looking back, she knew she should have seen his character flaws for what they were, but at the time, she hadn’t seen the warning signs: the way his stare lingered just a bit too long when he was looking at other women, or the way he’d squeeze just a bit too hard when he hugged women he swore were only friends. In the beginning, she’d wanted to believe him when he said he’d only been unfaithful once, but bits and pieces of forgotten conversations had resurfaced: a friend from college had long ago confessed that she’d heard rumors47 about Avery and a particular sorority sister; one of his co-workers mentioned a few too many unexplained absences from work. She hated to think of herself as naive48, but she had been, and even more than being disappointed in him, she’d long since realized that she was disappointed in herself. She’d told herself she would get over it, that she would meet someone better . . . someone like Mr. Renaissance, who proved once and for all that she wasn’t a good judge of men. Nor, it seemed, could she keep one.
It wasn’t easy to admit that, and there were moments when she wondered whether she might have done something to drive both men off. Okay, maybe not Mr. Renaissance, since theirs was less a relationship than a fling, but what about Avery? She’d loved him and thought he loved her. Sure, it was easy to say that Avery was a cad and that the demise50 of their relationship had been all his fault, but at the same time, he must have felt that the relationship was lacking somehow. That she was lacking somehow. But in what way? Had she been too pushy51? Was she boring? Was he unsatisfied in the bedroom? Why didn’t he run out afterward52, looking for her and begging forgiveness? These were the quesions she’d never been able to answer. Her friends, of course, assured her that she didn’t know what she was talking about, and Doris had said the same thing. Even so, it wasn’t entirely53 clear to her what had happened. There were, after all, two sides to every story, and even now she sometimes fantasized about calling him to ask if there was anything she could have done differently.
As one of her friends pointed49 out, it was typical of women to worry about such things. Men seemed immune to these sorts of insecurities. Even if they weren’t, they’d learned to either disguise their feelings or bury them deep enough so as not to be crippled by them. Usually, she tried to do the same, and usually, it worked. Usually.
In the distance, with the sun sinking into the waters of the Pamlico Sound, the town of Buxton, with its white clapboard houses, looked like a postcard. She was staring toward the lighthouse, and just as she’d hoped, she saw a small herd54 of horses grazing in the sea oats around the base. There were maybe a dozen in total—tans and browns, mainly—and their coats were rough and wild, grown thick for the winter. Two foals stood together near the center, their tails swishing in unison55.
Lexie stopped to watch them, tucking her hands in her jacket pockets. It was getting cold now that the evening was coming, and she could feel the sting on her cheeks and nose. The air was bracing56, and though she would have liked to stay longer, she was tired. It had been a long day, and felt even longer.
Despite herself, she wondered what Jeremy was doing. Was he preparing to film again? Or deciding where to eat? Was he packing? And why did her thoughts constantly turn to him?
She sighed, already knowing the answer. As much as she’d wanted to see the horses, the sight of them reminded her less of new beginnings than the simple fact that she was lonely. As much as she thought of herself as independent, as much as she tried to downplay Doris’s constant remarks, she couldn’t help but feel a yearning57 for companionship, for intimacy58. It didn’t even have to be marriage; sometimes all she wanted was to look forward to Friday or Saturday night. She yearned59 to spend a leisurely60 morning lounging in bed with someone she cared about, and as impossible as the idea seemed, Jeremy was the one she kept picturing beside her.
Lexie shook her head, forcing the thought away. In coming here, she had hoped to find relief from her thoughts, but as she stood near the lighthouse and watched the horses grazing, she felt the world bearing down hard. She was thirty-one, alone and living in a place without any prospects61. Her grandfather and parents were nothing but memories, the state of Doris’s health was a source of constant worry to her, and the one man she’d found even remotely interesting in recent years would be gone forever by the time she returned home.
That was when she started to cry, and for a long time, she found it difficult to stop. But just as she was finally beginning to collect herself, she saw someone approaching, and all she could do was stare when she realized who it was.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
ward
|
|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
streaks
|
|
| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
cemetery
|
|
| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
maturity
|
|
| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
renaissance
|
|
| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
exhaustion
|
|
| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
sanity
|
|
| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
creek
|
|
| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
realization
|
|
| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
roiling
|
|
| v.搅混（液体）( roil的现在分词 )；使烦恼；使不安；使生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
relatively
|
|
| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
satchel
|
|
| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
jitters
|
|
| n.pl.紧张(通常前面要有the) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
analyze
|
|
| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
logic
|
|
| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
regularity
|
|
| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
cedar
|
|
| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
hopped
|
|
| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
scenario
|
|
| n.剧本，脚本；概要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
mirage
|
|
| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
navigate
|
|
| v.航行，飞行；导航，领航 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
offshore
|
|
| adj.海面的，吹向海面的；adv.向海面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
graveyard
|
|
| n.坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
wrecks
|
|
| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
scuba
|
|
| n.水中呼吸器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
divers
|
|
| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
stranded
|
|
| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
conjured
|
|
| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
melodic
|
|
| adj.有旋律的，调子美妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
torpedoed
|
|
| 用鱼雷袭击（torpedo的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
propped
|
|
| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
distinctive
|
|
| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
rumors
|
|
| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
naive
|
|
| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
demise
|
|
| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
pushy
|
|
| adj.固执己见的，一意孤行的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
herd
|
|
| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
unison
|
|
| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
bracing
|
|
| adj.令人振奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |