Dr. Evans’ alert and merry eye dwelt on those delectable things, and in obedience21 to his brain, noted22 and appreciated the manifold festivity of the morning, but it did so not as ordinarily, by instinct and eager impulses, but because he consciously bade it. It needed the spur; its alertness and its merriness were pressed on it, and by degrees the spur failed to{224} stimulate23 it, and he fell to regarding the well-groomed quarters of his long-stepping cob, which usually afforded him so pleasant a contemplation of strong and harmonious24 muscularity. But this morning even they failed to delight him, and the rhythm of its firm trot25 made no music in his mind. There came a crease26 which deepened into a decided27 frown between his eyes, and he communed with the trouble in his mind.
There were various lesser28 worries, not of sufficient importance to disturb seriously the equanimity29 of a busy and well-balanced man, and though each was trivial enough in itself, and distinctly had a humorous side to a mind otherwise content, the cumulative30 effect of them was not amusing. In the first place, there was the affair of Harry31 Ames, who, in a manner sufficiently32 ludicrous and calfish, had been making love to his wife. As any other sensible man would have done, Wilfred Evans had seen almost immediately on his return to Riseborough that Harry was disposed to make himself ridiculous, and had given a word of kindly34 warning to his wife.
“Snub him a bit, little woman,” he had said. “We’re having a little too much of him. It’s fairer on the boy, too. You’re too kind to him. A woman like you so easily turns a boy’s head. And you’ve often said he is rather a dreadful sort of youth.”
But for some reason she took the words in ill part, becoming rather precise.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “Will you explain, please?”
“Easy enough, my dear. He’s here too much; he’s dangling35 after you. Laugh at him a little, or yawn a little.{225}”
“You mean that he’s in love with me?”
“Well, that’s too big a word, little woman, though I’m sure you see what I mean.”
“I think I do. I think your suggestion is rather coarse, Wilfred, and quite ill-founded. Is every one who is polite and attentive36 supposed to be in love with me? I only ask for information.”
“I think your own good sense will supply you with all necessary information,” he said.
But her good sense apparently37 had done nothing of the kind, and eventually Dr. Evans had spoken to Harry’s father on the subject. The visits had ceased with amazing abruptness39 after that, and Dr. Evans had found himself treated to a stare of blank unrecognition when he passed Harry in the street, and a curl of the lip which he felt must have been practised in private. But the Omar Khayyam Club would be the gainers, for they owed to it those stricken and embittered40 stanzas41 called “Parted.”
Here comedy verged42 on farce43, but the farce did not amuse him. He knew that his own interpretation44 of Harry’s assiduous presence was correct, so why should his wife have so precisely45 denied that those absurd attentions meant nothing? There was nothing to resent in the sensible warning that a man was greatly attracted by her. Nor was there warrant for Colonel Ames’ horror and dismay at the suggestion, when the doctor spoke38 to him about it. “Infamous young libertine” was surely a hyperbolical expression.
Dr. Evans unconsciously flicked47 the cob rather sharply with his whip-lash, to that excellent animal’s surprise, for he was covering his miles in five minutes apiece, and the doctor conveyed his apologies for his unintentional hint with a soothing48 remark. Then{226} his thoughts drifted back again. That was not all the trouble with the Ames’ family, for his wife had had a quarrel with Mrs. Ames. This kindly man hated to quarrel with anybody, and, for his part, successfully refused to do so, and that his wife should find herself in such a predicament was equally distressing49 to him. No doubt it was all a storm in a tea-cup, but if you happen to be living in the tea-cup too, a storm there is just as upsetting as a gale50 on the high seas. It is worse, indeed, for on the high seas a ship can run into fairer weather, but there is no escape from these tea-cup disturbances51. The entire tea-cup was involved: all Riseborough, which a year ago had seemed to him so suitable a place in which to pursue an unexacting practice, to conduct mild original work, in the peace and quiet of a small society and domestic comfort, was become a tempest of conflicting winds. “And all arising from such a pack of nonsense,” as the doctor thought impatiently to himself, only just checking the whip-lash from falling again on the industrious53 cob.
The interest of Mrs. Ames in the Suffragette movement had given rise to all this. She had announced a drawing-room meeting to be held in her house, now a fortnight ago, and the drawing-room meeting had exploded in mid-career, like a squib, scattering54 sparks and combustible55 material over all Riseborough. It appeared that Mrs. Ames, finding that the comprehension of Suffragette aims extended to the middle-class circles in Riseborough, had asked the wives and daughters of tradesmen to take part in it. It wanted but little after that to make Mrs. Altham remark quite audibly that she had not known that she was to have the privilege of meeting so many ladies with{227} whom she was not previously56 acquainted, and the sarcastic57 intention of her words was not lost upon her new friends. Tea seemed but to increase the initial inflammation, and the interest Mrs. Ames had intended to awake on the subject of votes for women was changed into an interest in ascertaining59 who could be most offensively polite, a very pretty game. It is not to be wondered at that, before twenty-four hours had passed, Mrs. Altham had started an anti-Suffragette league, and Millie, still strong in the conviction that under no circumstances could she go to prison, had allowed herself to be drawn60 into it. Next night at dinner she softly made a terrible announcement.
“I passed Cousin Amy in the street just now,” she said; “she did not seem to see me.”
“Perhaps she didn’t see you, little woman,” said her husband.
“So I did not seem to see her,” added Millie, who had not finished her sentence. “But if she cares to come to see me and explain, I shall behave quite as usual to her.”
“Come, come, little woman!” said Dr. Evans in a conciliating spirit.
“And I do not see what is the good of saying ‘Come, come,’” she said, with considerable precision.
All this was sufficient to cause very sensible disquiet62 to a man who attached so proper an importance to peaceful and harmonious conditions of life, yet it was but a small thing compared to a far deeper anxiety that brooded over him. Till now he had not let himself directly contemplate63 it, but to-day, as he returned from his two visits, he made himself face this last secret trouble. He felt it was necessary for him to ascertain58, for the sake of others no less than himself,{228} what part, if any, of his disquiet was grounded on certainty, what part, if any, might be the figment of an over-anxious imagination. But he knew he was not anxious by temperament64, nor given to imagine troubles. If anything, he was more prone65, in his desire for a pleasant and studious life, to shut his eyes to the apparent approach of storm, trusting that it would blow by. He was anxious about Millie, not without cause; a hundred symptoms justified66 his anxiety. She who for so long had been of such imperturbable67 serenity68 of temper that a man who did not feel her charm might have called her jelly-fish was the prey69 of fifty moods a day. She had strange little fits of tenderness to him, with squalls of peevishness70 quite as strange. She was restless and filled with an energy that flamed and flickered71 and vanished, leaving her indolent and inert72. She would settle herself for a morning of letter writing, and after tearing up a couple of notes, put on her gardening gloves and get as far as the herbaceous bed. Then she would find an imperative73 reason for going into the town, and so sit down at her piano to practise. Her appetite, usually of the steady reliable order, failed her, and she passed broken and tossing nights. Had she been a girl, he would have said those symptoms all pointed74 one way; and it would probably not have been difficult to guess who was the young man in question. Yet he could scarcely face the conclusion applied75 to his wife. It was a hideous76 thing that a husband should harbour such a suspicion, more hideous that the husband should be himself. And perhaps more hideous of all, that he should guess—again without difficulty—who was the man in question.{229}
He had no conception what to do, or whether to do nothing; it seemed that action and inaction might alike end in disaster. And, again, the whole of his explanation of Millie’s symptoms might be erroneous. There might be other explanations—indeed, there were others possible. As to that, time would show; at present the best course, perhaps the only right course, was to be watchful77, yet not suspicious, observant, not prying79. Rather than pry78 or be suspicious he would go to Millie herself, and without reservation tell her all that had been in his mind. He was well aware what the heroic attitude, the attitude of the virile80, impetuous Englishman, dear to melodrama81, would have been. It was quite easy for him to “tax” Major Ames with baseness, to grind his teeth at his wife, and then burst into manly82 tears, each sob13 of which seemed to rend83 him. But to his quiet, sensible nature, it seemed difficult to see what was supposed to happen next. In melodrama the curtain went down, and you started ten years later in Queensland with regenerated84 natures distributed broadcast. But in actual life it was impossible to start again ten years later, or ten minutes later. You had to go on all the time. Willingly would he, on this divine October morning, have started again, indefinitely later. The difficulty was how to go on now.
His cases had not long detained him, and it was still not long after noon when the cob, still pleased and alert with motion, but with smoking flanks, drew up at his door. The clear chill of the morning had altogether passed, and the air in the basin or tea-cup of a town was still and sultry. There was a familiar hat on the table in the hall, a bunch of long-stemmed{230} tawny chrysanthemums85 lay by it. And at that sight some distant echo of barbaric and simple man, deplorable to the smoothness of civilization and altogether obsolete86, was resonant87 in him. He pitched the chrysanthemums into the street, where they flew like a shooting star close by the head of General Fortescue, who was tottering88 down to the club, and slammed the door. It was melodramatic and foolish enough, but the desire that prompted it was quite sincere and irresistible89, and if at the moment Major Ames had been in that cool oak-panelled hall, there is little doubt that Dr. Evans would have done his best to pitch him out after his flowers.
The doctor gave himself a moment to recover from his superficial violence, and then went out into the garden. They were sitting together on the bench under the mulberry-tree, and Major Ames got up with his usual briskness90 as he approached. Somehow Dr. Evans felt as if he was being welcomed and made to feel at home.
“Good morning,” said Major Ames. “Glorious day, isn’t it? I just stepped over with a handful of flowers, and we’ve been having a bit of a chat, a bit of a chat.”
“Cousin Lyndhurst has very kindly come to talk over all these little disturbances,” said Millie.
She looked at him.
“Shall I explain?” she asked.
Dr. Evans took the seat that Major Ames had vacated, leaving him free to sit down in a garden chair opposite, or to stand, just as he pleased.
“It is like this, Wilfred,” she said. “Cousin Amy did not like my joining the anti-Suffragette league which Mrs. Altham started, and I have told Lyndhurst that I did not care a straw one way or the other,{231} except that I could not go to prison to please Cousin Amy or any one else. But it looked like taking sides, she thought. So Lyndhurst thought it would make everything easy if I didn’t join any league at all. I think it very clever and tactful of him to think of that, and I will certainly tell Mrs. Altham I find I am too busy. Of course, there is no quarrel between Cousin Amy and me, and Lyndhurst wants to assure us that he isn’t mixed up in it, though there isn’t any—and, of course, if Cousin Amy didn’t see me the other day when I thought she pretended not to, it makes a difference.”
“I think it is very kind of Cousin Lyndhurst to take so much trouble,” she added. “He is stopping to lunch.”
Major Ames made a noble little gesture that disclaimed93 any credit.
“It’s nothing, a mere94 nothing,” he said, quite truly. “But I’m sure you hate little domestic jars as much as I do. As Amy once said, my profession was to be a man of war, but my instinct was to be a man of peace. Ha! Ha! I’m only delighted my little olive branch has—has met with success,” he added rather feebly, being unable to think of any botanical metaphor95.
The doctor got up. It is to be feared that, in his present state of mind, he felt not the smallest admiration96 or gratitude97 for the work of Lyndhurst the Peacemaker, but only saw in it a purely98 personal desire to secure an uninterrupted va et vient between the two houses.
“I’m sure I haven’t the slightest intention of{232} quarrelling with anybody,” he said. “It seems to me the most deplorable waste of time and energy, besides being very uncomfortable. Let us go in to lunch, Millie; I have to go out again at two o’clock.”
Millie wrote an amiable99 and insincere little note to Mrs. Altham, which Major Ames undertook to deliver on his way home, explaining how, since Elsie had gone to Dresden to perfect herself in the German language, she herself had become so busy that she did not know which way to turn, besides missing Elsie very much. She felt, therefore, that since she would not be able to give as much time as she wished to this very interesting anti-Suffragette movement, it would be better not to give to it any time at all. This she wrote directly after her husband had gone out again, and brought to Major Ames, who was waiting for it. He, too, had said he would have to be off at once. She gave him the note.
“There it is,” she said; “and so many thanks for leaving it. But you are not hurrying away at once, are you?”
“Am I not keeping you in?” he asked.
She pulled down the lace blinds over the window that looked into the street; the October sun, it is true, beat rather hotly into the room, but the instinct that dictated100 her action was rather a desire for privacy.
“As if I would not sooner sit and talk to you,” she said, “than go out. I have no one to go out with. I am rather lonely since Elsie has gone, and I daresay I shall not see Wilfred again till dinner-time. It is rather amusing that I have just written to Mrs. Altham to say how busy I am.”
He came and sat a little closer to her.{233}
“Upon my word,” he said, “I am in the same boat as you. I haven’t set eyes on Amy all morning, and this afternoon I know she has a couple of meetings. It’s extraordinary how this idea of votes for women has taken hold of her. Not a bad thing, though, as long as she doesn’t go making a fool of herself in public, and as long as she doesn’t have any more quarrels with you.”
“What would you have done if she had really wished to quarrel with me over Mrs. Altham’s league?” she asked.
“Just what I told her. I said I would be no partner to it, and as long as you would receive me here en gar?on I should always come.”
“That was dear of you,” she said softly.
She paused a moment.
“Sometimes I think we made a mistake in coming to settle here,” she said; “but you know how obstinate101 Wilfred is, and how little influence I have with him. But then, again, I think of our friendship. I have not had many friends. I think, perhaps, I am too shy and timid with people. When I like them very much I find it difficult to express myself. It is rather sad not to be able to show what you feel quite frankly102. It prevents your being understood by the people whom you most want to understand you.”
But beneath this profession of incompetence103, it seemed to Major Ames that there lurked104 a very efficient strength. He felt himself being gradually overpowered by a superior force, a force that did not strike and disable and overbear, but cramped105 and paralysed the power of its adversary106, enfolding him, clinging to him. There was still something in him, some part of his will which was hostile and opposed{234} to her: it was just that which she assailed107. And in alliance with that paralysing force was her attraction and charm—soft, yielding, feminine; the two advanced side by side, terrible twins.
He did not answer for a moment, and it flashed across his mind that this cool room, shaded from the street glare by the lace curtains, and suffused108 with the greenish glow of the sunlight reflected from the lawn outside, was like a trap.... She gave a little laugh.
“See how badly I express myself,” she said. “You are puzzling, frowning. Don’t frown, you look best when you are laughing. I get so tired of frowning faces. Wilfred so often frowns all dinner-time when he is thinking over something connected with microbes. And he frowns over his chess, when he cannot make up his mind whether to exchange bishops109. We play chess every evening.”
Instinctively110 she had drawn back a little, when she saw he did not advance to meet her, and spoke as if chess and the pathos111 of her dumbness to express friendship were things of equal moment. There was no calculation about it: it was the expression of one type, the eternal feminine attracted and wishing to attract. Her descent to these commonplaces restored his confidence; the room was a trap no longer, but the pleasant drawing-room he knew so well, with its charming mistress seated by him. It was almost inevitable112 that he should contrast the hot plushes and saddle-bag cushions of his own, its angular chairs and Axminster carpets with the cool chintzes here, the lace-shrouded windows, the Persian rugs. More marked was the contrast between the mistresses of the two houses. Amy had been writing at her davenport a good deal lately, and her short, stiff back{235} had been the current picture of her. Here was a woman, dim in the half light, wanting to talk to him, to make timid confidences, to make him realize how much his friendship meant to her. His confidence returned with disarming113 completeness.
“Well, I’m sure I should find it dismal114 enough at home,” he said, “if I hadn’t somewhere to go to, knowing I should find a welcome. Mind you, I don’t blame Amy. For years now, when we’ve been alone in the evening, she has done her work, and I have read the paper, and I daresay we haven’t said a dozen words till Parker brought in the bedroom candles, or sometimes we play picquet—for love. But now evenings spent like that seem to me very prosy and dismal. Perhaps it’s Harrogate that has made me a bit more supple115 and youthful, though I’m sure it’s ridiculous enough that a tough old campaigner like me should feel such things——”
Mrs. Evans put forward her chin, raising her face towards him.
“But why ridiculous?” she asked. “You must be so much younger than dear Cousin Amy. I wonder—I wonder if she feels that too?”
There was there a very devilish suggestion, the more so because, in proportion to the suggestion, so very little was stated. It succeeded admirably.
“Poor dear Amy!” said he.
He had said that once before, when Cleopatra-Amy was contrasted with Cleopatra-Millie. But there was a significance in the repetition of it. Once the assumed identity of character had suggested the comment, now there was no assumed character. It concerned Millie and Amy themselves.
Mrs. Evans put back her chin.{236}
“I am sure Cousin Amy ought to be very happy,” she said softly. “You are so devoted116 to her, and all. I almost think you spoil her, Lyndhurst. It is all so romantic. Fancy being a woman, and as old as Cousin Amy, and yet having a young man so devoted. Harry, too!”
Again a billow of confidence tinged117 with self-appreciation surged over Major Ames. After all, his wife was much older than him, for he was still a young man, and his youth was being expanded on sweet-peas and the garden roller. And he was stirred into a high flight of philosophical118 conjecture119.
“My God, what a puzzle life is!” he observed.
She rose to this high-water mark.
“And it might be so simple,” she said. “It should be so easy to be happy.”
Then Major Ames knew where he was. In one sense he was worthy120 of the occasion, in another he did not feel up to all that it implied. He rose hastily.
But he had smoked five cigarettes since lunch. The hoarseness122 might easily have been the result of this indulgence.
She did not attempt to keep him, nor did she make it incumbent123 on him to give her a kiss, however cousinly. She did not even rise, but only looked up at him from her low chair as she gave him her hand, smiling a little secretly, as Monna Lisa smiles. But she felt quite satisfied with their talk; he would think over it, and find fresh signals and private beckonings in it.
“Come and see me again,” she said. There was a touch of imperativeness124 in her tone.
She looked through the lace curtain and saw him go out into the street. There was something in the{237} gutter125 of the roadway which he inquired into with the end of his stick. It looked like a withered126 bunch of dusty chrysanthemums.
Mrs. Ames, meantime, had lunched at home, and gone off immediately afterwards, as her husband had conjectured127, to a meeting. In the last month the membership of her league had largely increased, and it was no longer possible to convene128 its meetings in her own drawing-room, for it numbered some fifty persons, including a dozen men of enlightened principles. Even at first, as has been seen, she had welcomed (thereby incurring129 Mrs. Altham’s disapproval) several ladies with whom she did not usually associate, and now the gathering130 was entirely131 independent of all class distinctions. The wife of the station-master, for instance, was one of the most active members and walked up and down the platform with a large rosette of Suffragette colours selling current copies of the Clarion132. And no less remarkable133 than this growth of the league was the growth of Mrs. Ames. She was neither pompous134 nor condescending135 to those persons whom, a couple of months ago, she would have looked upon as being barely existent, except if they were all in church, when she would very probably have shared a hymn-book with any of them, the “Idea” for which they had assembled galvanizing them, though strictly136 temporarily, into the class of existent people. Now, the idea which brought them together in the commodious137 warehouse138, kindly lent and sufficiently furnished by Mr. Turner, had given them a permanent existence, and they were not automatically blotted139 out of her book of life the moment these meetings were over, as they would have{238} been so short a time ago in church, when the last “Amen” was said. The bonds of her barren and barbaric conventionality were bursting; indeed, it was not so much that others, not even those of “her class,” were becoming women to her, as that she was becoming a woman herself. She had scarcely been one hitherto; she had been a piece of perfect propriety140. And how far she had travelled from her original conception of the Suffragette movement as suitable to supply a novelty for the autumn that would eclipse the memory of the Shakespearean ball, may be gathered from the fact that she no longer took the chair at these meetings, but was an ordinary member. Mr. Turner had far more experience in the duties of a chairman: she had herself proposed him and would have seconded him as well, had such a step been in order.
To-day the meeting was assembled to discuss the part which the league should take in the forthcoming elections. The Tory Government was at present in power, and likely to remain in office, while Riseborough itself was a fairly safe seat for the Tory member, who was Sir James Westbourne. Before polemical or obstructive measures could be decided on, it had clearly been necessary to ascertain Sir James’ views on the subject of votes for women, and to-day his answer had been received and was read to the meeting. It was as unsatisfactory as it was brief, and their “obedient servant” had no sympathy with, and so declined to promise any support to, their cause. Mr. Turner read this out, and laid it down on his desk.
“Will ladies or gentlemen give us their views on the course we are to adopt?” he said.{239}
A dozen simultaneously141 rose, and simultaneously sat down again. The chairman asked Mrs. Brooks142 to address the meeting. Another and another succeeded her, and there was complete unanimity143 of purpose in their suggestions. Sir James’ meetings and his speeches to his constituents144 must not be allowed to proceed without interruption. If he had no sympathy with the cause, the cause would show a marked lack of sympathy with him. Thereafter the league resolved itself into a committee of ways and means. The President of the Board of Trade was coming to support Sir James’ candidature at a meeting the date of which was already fixed145 for a fortnight hence, and it was decided to make a demonstration146 in force. And as the discussion went on, and real practical plans were made, that strange fascination147 and excitement at the thought of shouting and interrupting at a public meeting, of becoming for the first time of some consequence, began to seethe148 and ferment149. Most of the members were women, whose lives had been passed in continuous self-repression, who had been frozen over by the narcotic150 ice of a completely conventional and humdrum151 existence. Many of them were unmarried and already of middle-age; their natural human instincts had never known the blossoming and honey which the fulfilment of their natures would have brought. To the eagerness and sincerity152 with which they welcomed a work that demanded justice for their sex, there was added this excitement of doing something at last. There was an opportunity of expansion, of stepping out, under the stimulus153 of an idea, into an experience that was real. In kind, this was akin33 to martyrs154 who rejoiced and sang when the prospects155 of prosecution157 came near;{240} as martyrs for the sake of their faith thought almost with glee of the rack and the burning, so, minutely, the very prospect156 of discomfort158 and rough handling seemed attractive, if, by such means, the cause was infinitesimally advanced. To this, a sincere and wholly laudable desire, was added the more personal stimulus. They would be doing something, instead of suffering the tedium159 of passivity, acting52 instead of being acted on. For it is only through centuries of custom that the woman, physically160 weak and liable to be knocked down, has become the servant of the other sex. She is fiercer at heart, more courageous161, more scornful of consequences than he; it is only muscular inferiority of strength that has subdued162 her into the place that she occupies, that, and the periods when, for the continuance of the race, she must submit to months of tender and strong inaction. There she finds fruition of her nature, and there awakes in her a sweet indulgence for the strange, childish lust163 of being master, of parading, in making of laws and conventions, his adventitious164 power, of the semblance165 of sovereignty that has been claimed by man. At heart she knows that he has but put a tinsel crown on his head, and robed himself in spangles that but parody166 real gold. She lays a woman’s hand on his child-head, and to please him says, “How wise you are, how strong, how clever.” And the child is pleased, and loves her for it. And there is her weakness, for the most dominant167 thing in her nature is the need of being loved. From the beginning it must have been so. When Adam’s rib61 was taken from him in sleep, he lost more than was left him, and woke to find all his finer self gone from him. He was left a blundering bumble-bee: to the rib that was taken{241} from him clung the courage of the lioness, the wisdom of the serpent, the gentleness of the dove, the cunning of the spider, and the mysterious charm of the firefly that dances in the dusk. But to that rib also clung the desire to be loved. Otherwise, in the human race, the male would be slain168 yearly like the drone of the hive. But the strange thing that grew from the rib, like flowers from buried carrion169, desired love. There was its strength and its weakness.
It desired love, and in its desire it suffered all degradation170 to obtain it. And no leanness of soul entered into the gratification of its desire. Only when its desire was pinched and rationed171, or when, by the operation of civilized172 law, all fruit of desire was denied it, so that the blossom of sex was made into one unfruitful bud, did revolt come. Long generations produced the germ, long generations made it active. At length it swam up to sight, from subaqueous dimnesses, feeble and violent, conscious of the justice of its cause and demanding justice. But what helped to make the desire for justice so attractive was the violence, the escape from self-repression that the demand gave opportunity for, to many who, all their lives, had been corked173 or wired down in comfort, which no woman cares about, or sealed up in spinsterhood and decorous emptiness of days. There was justice in the demand, and hysterical174 excitement in demanding.
To others, and in this little league of Riseborough there were many such, the prospect of making those demands was primarily appalling175, and to none more than to poor Mrs. Ames, when the plan of campaign was discussed, decided on, and entrusted176 to the{242} members of the league. It required almost more courage than the idea was capable of inspiring to face, even in anticipation177, the thought of shouting “Votes for Women” when good-humoured Cousin James rose and said “Ladies and gentlemen!” Very possibly, as had often happened in Cousin James’ previous candidatures, Lyndhurst would wish his wife to ask him and the President of the Board of Trade to dinner before the meeting, an occasion which would warrant the materialization of the most sumptuous178 of all the dinners tabulated179 on the printed menu-cards, while sherry would be given with soup, hock with fish, and a constant flow of champagne180 be kept up afterwards, until port time. In that case Cousin James would certainly ask them to sit on the platform, and they would roll richly to the town hall in his motor, all blazing with Conservative colours, while she, in a small bag, would be surreptitiously conveying there her great Suffragette rosette, and a small steel chain with a padlock. She would be sitting probably next the Mayor, who would introduce the speakers, and no doubt refer to “the presence of the fair sex” who graced the platform. During this she would have to pin her colours on her dress, chain herself up like Andromeda, snap the patent spring-lock of the padlock, and when Sir James rose ... her imagination could not grapple with the picture: it turned sickly away, refusing to contemplate. And this to a cousin and a guest, who had just eaten the best salt, so to speak, of her table, from one who all her life had been so perfect a piece of propriety! She felt far too old a bottle for such new wine. Sitting surrounded by fellow-crusaders, and infected by the proximity181 of their undiluted enthusiasm, it{243} would be difficult enough, but that she should chain herself, perhaps, to the very leg of the table which Cousin James would soon thump182 in the fervour of his oratory183, as he announced all those Tory platitudes184 in which she so firmly believed, and which she must so shrilly185 interrupt, while sitting solitary186 in the desert of his sleek187 and staid supporters, was not only an impossible but an unthinkable achievement. Whatever horrors fate, that gruesome weaver188 of nightmares, might have in store for her, she felt that here was something that transcended189 imagination. She could not sit on the platform with Lyndhurst and Cousin James and the Mayor and Lady Westbourne, and do what was required of her, for the sake of any crusade. Curfew, so to speak, would have to ring that night.
She and Lyndhurst were dining alone the evening after this meeting of “ways and means,” he in that state of mind which she not inaptly described as “worried” when she felt kind, and “cross” when she felt otherwise. He had come home hot from his walk, and, having sat in his room where there was no fire, when evening fell chilly190, had had a smart touch of lumbago. Thus there were clearly two causes for complaint against Amy, and a third disturbing topic, for there was no shadow of doubt that it was his bouquet191 of chrysanthemums that he had found in the road outside Dr. Evans’ house, and even before the lumbago had produced its characteristic pessimism192, he had been unable to find any encouraging explanation of this floral castaway.
“I’m sure I don’t know what was the good of my spending all August,” he said, “in that filthy193 hole of a Harrogate, at no end of expense, too, if I’m to be crippled all winter. But you urged me to so{244} strongly: should never have thought of going there otherwise.”
“My dear, you have only been crippled for half-an-hour at present,” she observed. “It is a great bore, but if only you will take a good hot bath to-night, and have a very light dinner, I expect you will be much better in the morning. Parker, tell them to see that there is plenty of hot water in the kitchen boiler194.”
“It’ll be the only warm thing in the house, if there is,” said he. “My room was like an ice-house when I came in. Positively195 like an ice-house. Enough to give a man pneumonia196, let alone lumbago. Soup cold, too.”
“My dear, you should take more care of yourself,” said Mrs. Ames placidly197. “Why did you not light the fire instead of being cold? I’m sure it was laid.”
“And have it just burning up at dinner-time,” said he, “when I no longer wanted it.”
It was still early in the course of dinner.
“Light the fire in the drawing-room, Parker,” said Mrs. Ames. “Let there be a good fire when we come out of dinner.”
“Get roasted alive,” said Major Ames, half to himself, but intending to be heard.
But Mrs. Ames’ mind had been feasting for weeks past on things which had a solider existence than her husband’s unreasonable198 strictures. Since this new diet had been hers, his snaps and growls199 had produced no effect: they often annoyed her into repartee200, and as likely as not, a few months ago, she would have said that his claret seemed a very poor kind of beverage201. But to-night she felt not the smallest desire to retort. She was very sorry for his lumbago, but felt no inclination202 to carry the war into his territories, or to{245} tell him that if people, perspiring203 freely, and of gouty habit, choose to sit down without changing, and get chilly, they must expect reprisal204 for their imprudence.
“Then we will open the window, dear,” she said, “if we find we are frizzling. But I don’t think it will be too hot. Evenings are chilly in October. Did you have a pleasant lunch, Lyndhurst? Indeed, I don’t know where you lunched. I ordered curry205 for you. I sat down at a quarter to two as you did not come in.”
It was all so infinitesimal ... yet it was the mental diet which had supported her for years. Perhaps after dinner they would play picquet. The garden, the kitchen, for years, except for gossip infinitely206 less real, these had been the topics. There had been no joy for him in the beauty of the garden, only a pleased sense of proprietorship207, if a rare plant flowered, or if there were more roses than usual. For her, she had been vaguely208 pleased if Lyndhurst had taken two helpings209 of a dish, and both of them had been vaguely disquieted210 if Harry quoted Swinburne.
“I lunched with the Evans’,” he said. “By the way, I met your cousin James Westbourne this afternoon, when I was on my walk. Extraordinarily211 cordial he gets when there’s business ahead that brings him into Riseborough, and he wants to cadge212 a dinner or two. It’s little notice he takes of us the rest of the year, and I’m sure it’s a couple of years since he so much as sent us a brace213 of pheasants, and more than that since he asked me to shoot there. But as I say, when he wants to pick up a dinner or two in Riseborough, he’s all heartiness214, and saying he doesn’t see half enough of us. He doesn’t seem to strain himself in trying to see more, and ther{246}e’s seldom a week-end when he and that great guy of a wife of his don’t have the house packed with people. I suppose we’re not smart enough for them, except when it’s convenient to dine in Riseborough. Then he’s not above drinking a bottle of my champagne.”
Mrs. Ames was eager in support of her husband.
“I’m sure there’s no call for you to open any more bottles for him, my dear,” she said. “If Cousin James wants to see us, he can take his turn in asking us. And Harriet is a great guy, as you say, with her big fiddle-head.”
“I’m sure I don’t grudge216 him his dinner,” he said, “and, in point of fact, I told him he could come and dine with us before his first meeting. He’s got some Cabinet Minister with him, and I said he could bring him too. You might get up a little party, that’s to say if I’m not in bed with this infernal lumbago. And Cousin James will return our hospitality by giving us seats on the platform to hear him stamp and stammer217 and rant46. An infernal bad speaker. Never heard a worse. Wretched delivery, nothing to say, and says it all fifty times over. Enough to make a man turn Radical218. However, he’ll have made himself at home with my Mumm, and perhaps he’ll go to sleep himself before he sends us off.”
This, of course, represented the lumbago-view. Major Ames had been fulsomely219 cordial to Cousin James, and had himself urged the dinner that he represented now as being forced on him.
“Have you actually asked him, Lyndhurst?” said Mrs. Ames rather faintly. “Did he say he would come?{247}”
“Did you ever know your Cousin James refuse a decent dinner?” asked Lyndhurst. “And he was kind enough to say he would like it at a quarter past seven. Cool, upon my word! I wish I had asked him if he’d have thick soup or clear, and if he preferred a wing to a leg. That’s the sort of thing one never thinks of till afterwards.”
Mrs. Ames was not attending closely: there was that below the surface which claimed all her mind. Consequently she missed the pungency220 of this irony221, hearing only the words.
“Cousin James never takes soup at all,” she said. “He told me it always disagreed.”
Major Ames sighed; his lumbago felt less acute, his ill-temper had found relief in words, and he had long ago discovered that women had no sense of humour. On the whole, it was gratifying to find the truth of this so amply endorsed222. For the moment it put him into quite a good temper.
“I’m afraid I’ve been grumbling223 all dinner,” he said. “Shall we go into the other room? There’s little sense in my looking at the decanters, if I mayn’t take my glass of port. Eh! That was a twinge!”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
delectable
|
|
| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
faceted
|
|
| adj. 有小面的，分成块面的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
stiffened
|
|
| 加强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
sprawling
|
|
| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
tangles
|
|
| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
beech
|
|
| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
ablaze
|
|
| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
tawny
|
|
| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
maidens
|
|
| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
glades
|
|
| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
withering
|
|
| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
scamper
|
|
| v.奔跑，快跑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
rattle
|
|
| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
tints
|
|
| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
beeches
|
|
| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
azure
|
|
| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
stimulate
|
|
| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
harmonious
|
|
| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
trot
|
|
| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
crease
|
|
| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
equanimity
|
|
| n.沉着，镇定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
cumulative
|
|
| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
harry
|
|
| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
akin
|
|
| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
dangling
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
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： |
|
|
|
|
39
abruptness
|
|
| n. 突然，唐突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
embittered
|
|
| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
stanzas
|
|
| 节，段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
verged
|
|
| 接近，逼近（verge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
farce
|
|
| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
interpretation
|
|
| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
rant
|
|
| v.咆哮；怒吼；n.大话；粗野的话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
flicked
|
|
| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
distressing
|
|
| a.使人痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
gale
|
|
| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
disturbances
|
|
| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
industrious
|
|
| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
scattering
|
|
| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
combustible
|
|
| a. 易燃的,可燃的; n. 易燃物,可燃物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
previously
|
|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
sarcastic
|
|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
ascertain
|
|
| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
ascertaining
|
|
| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
rib
|
|
| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
disquiet
|
|
| n.担心，焦虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
contemplate
|
|
| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
prone
|
|
| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
imperturbable
|
|
| adj.镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
serenity
|
|
| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
peevishness
|
|
| 脾气不好；爱发牢骚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
inert
|
|
| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
imperative
|
|
| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
watchful
|
|
| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
pry
|
|
| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
prying
|
|
| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
virile
|
|
| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
melodrama
|
|
| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
rend
|
|
| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
regenerated
|
|
| v.新生，再生( regenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
chrysanthemums
|
|
| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
obsolete
|
|
| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
resonant
|
|
| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
tottering
|
|
| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
briskness
|
|
| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
lucid
|
|
| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
deferential
|
|
| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
disclaimed
|
|
| v.否认( disclaim的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
metaphor
|
|
| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
dictated
|
|
| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
obstinate
|
|
| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
incompetence
|
|
| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
lurked
|
|
| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
cramped
|
|
| a.狭窄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
adversary
|
|
| adj.敌手，对手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
assailed
|
|
| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
suffused
|
|
| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
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： |
|
|
|
|
110
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
pathos
|
|
| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
disarming
|
|
| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
supple
|
|
| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
tinged
|
|
| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
philosophical
|
|
| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
conjecture
|
|
| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
hoarsely
|
|
| adv.嘶哑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
hoarseness
|
|
| n.嘶哑， 刺耳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
incumbent
|
|
| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
imperativeness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
125
gutter
|
|
| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
conjectured
|
|
| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
convene
|
|
| v.集合，召集，召唤，聚集，集合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
incurring
|
|
| 遭受，招致，引起( incur的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
clarion
|
|
| n.尖音小号声；尖音小号 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
condescending
|
|
| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
commodious
|
|
| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
warehouse
|
|
| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
blotted
|
|
| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
simultaneously
|
|
| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
brooks
|
|
| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
unanimity
|
|
| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
constituents
|
|
| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
seethe
|
|
| vi.拥挤，云集；发怒，激动，骚动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
ferment
|
|
| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
narcotic
|
|
| n.麻醉药，镇静剂；adj.麻醉的，催眠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
humdrum
|
|
| adj.单调的，乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
stimulus
|
|
| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
martyrs
|
|
| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
prosecution
|
|
| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
tedium
|
|
| n.单调；烦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
lust
|
|
| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
adventitious
|
|
| adj.偶然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
parody
|
|
| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
dominant
|
|
| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
slain
|
|
| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
carrion
|
|
| n.腐肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
degradation
|
|
| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
rationed
|
|
| 限量供应，配给供应( ration的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
corked
|
|
| adj.带木塞气味的，塞着瓶塞的v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
sumptuous
|
|
| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
tabulated
|
|
| 把（数字、事实）列成表( tabulate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
champagne
|
|
| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
proximity
|
|
| n.接近，邻近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
thump
|
|
| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
oratory
|
|
| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
platitudes
|
|
| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
shrilly
|
|
| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
sleek
|
|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
weaver
|
|
| n.织布工；编织者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
transcended
|
|
| 超出或超越（经验、信念、描写能力等）的范围( transcend的过去式和过去分词 )； 优于或胜过… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
chilly
|
|
| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
bouquet
|
|
| n.花束，酒香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
pessimism
|
|
| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
filthy
|
|
| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
boiler
|
|
| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
pneumonia
|
|
| n.肺炎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
placidly
|
|
| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
growls
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
repartee
|
|
| n.机敏的应答 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
beverage
|
|
| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
perspiring
|
|
| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
reprisal
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，报复性劫掠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
curry
|
|
| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
proprietorship
|
|
| n.所有（权）；所有权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
helpings
|
|
| n.（食物）的一份( helping的名词复数 )；帮助，支持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
disquieted
|
|
| v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
extraordinarily
|
|
| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
cadge
|
|
| v.乞讨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
brace
|
|
| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
heartiness
|
|
| 诚实，热心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
stammer
|
|
| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
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： |
|
|
|
|
219
fulsomely
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
pungency
|
|
| n.（气味等的）刺激性；辣；（言语等的）辛辣；尖刻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
endorsed
|
|
| vt.& vi.endorse的过去式或过去分词形式v.赞同( endorse的过去式和过去分词 )；在（尤指支票的）背面签字；在（文件的）背面写评论；在广告上说本人使用并赞同某产品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
grumbling
|
|
| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |