He turned a corner, the rumble4 of sound became a roar, and he was on the edge of the crowd. Some distance down the street into which he had emerged, on the left at its intersection5 by another wider thoroughfare, he could make out a corner of the white marble court-house that had left him unimpressed. And one side of this building—the east, it must be—stretched along flush with the street that Stacey followed. But all about and obscuring such part of the structure as lay within his vision there was now a black howling throng6, while, over all, smoke hung. And even here, where Stacey stood, the crowd was dense7. Traffic had ceased. Motor cars stood motionless. Men had scrambled8 up the sides of them and clung there, all staring in one direction; and from the windows of the houses flanking the street more people leaned and gazed.
Here the crowd was not yet a mass—groups only; but as Stacey went forward toward the court-house, which was perhaps an eighth of a mile away, it thickened, so that to traverse it became increasingly difficult. And as it thickened its temper grew manifestly warmer. A confusion of cries agitated9 it. Sometimes they burst into a refrain—“Nigger! Nigger! We want that nigger!” Arms were thrown up, gesticulating wildly. And there were little centres of local interest—a man suddenly hauling himself up to the shoulders of another for a view and thrown down again fiercely, snarling10 contests over invaded personal rights, animal-like squeals11 of women at the crushing pressure upon them. The sweating faces had a bestial12 look beneath the arc-lights, and a sourish human odor tainted13 the warm air. Noise! Noise!
Stacey was not feeling anger—only a deep disgust, disgust of crowds, sick disgust of all humanity. His emotion was the more acute for its contrast with the mood he had felt in Burnham’s house. He was like a man who has made a longer jump by taking a running start. So this was the kind of thing on which perpetual peace and leagues of nations were to be founded, was it? he thought coldly. He would have gone back out of its contamination, having certainly no desire to witness the spectacle it clamored for, save that he had some desperate idea of perhaps being able to assist the few who must somewhere be standing14 off the multitude. So he fought his way forward, inch by inch, helped perhaps a very little by the fact that he was in uniform, using his shoulders and elbows mercilessly in cold contempt of his victims, shrieked15 at, cursed at, struck at even, but making progress, until at last he came, panting, to the corner of his own street and that other wider avenue. He could get no farther, either ahead or to the left. The crowd was a solid wall. And to return was equally impossible. He could only stay where he was and hope that something might happen, some movement in the mob, that would make it possible for him to push through suddenly and reach the court-house.
He stood on tip-toe and looked about him. He was almost at the corner, close to the right hand edge of the street, and he perceived that here the latter was flanked by the side wall of what he took to be a theatre. In the wall, some two or three feet above the ground, were embrasures, vantage points held with difficulty by tightly wedged groups. As Stacey looked, a sudden backward surge of the crowd swept down and away two such members of one group, and Stacey, diving desperately17 in, himself struggled up to the place and held it against all contestants18.
All events were submerged beneath a roar of voices, a sea of noise that broke in echoing waves against the sides of the buildings. It was an emotion in itself, irrespective of its cause. It hypnotized the crowd, produced a singular wild stare in men’s eyes, made their movements jerky, their own involuntary addition to the noise raucous19. It did not hypnotize Stacey, because he was aloof20, remote, and also because he was too familiar with noise. Yet, he, too, had undergone its terrible spell—early in the war, before he had grown hard enough to bear the unbearable21. He knew bitterly well what Siegfried Sassoon meant by: “I’m going stark22, staring mad because of the guns.”
Stacey threw one last contemptuous glance at the mob beneath him, then gazed off over their heads at the court-house.
The first thing he noted23 was that it was on fire, smoke creeping dully from its ground-floor windows; the second, that fighting was going on inside it, since the south door, that opening on the wide cross-street, was shattered, while through it rushed in or were driven back mad struggling clusters of men.
“Good for the police!” thought Stacey. “Oh, by God! I wish I were there!”
Two firemen appeared at a third-floor window, and from the nozzle of the hose they held a stream shot down upon the crowd. There was a wild surging movement that swept to the crowd even here, pushing it back upon itself tumultuously. Snarls24 of anger rose. There were struggles, shrieks25, fists striking out, mad efforts of individuals to keep from being crushed. And up ahead on the left the lighted air was shadowed by the bricks and stones hurled26 through it against the court-house. The court-house windows shattered in fragments. Stacey could not hear them crash—the noise of voices submerged all other sounds, as it was submerging thought—but he could see the jagged black gaps appear and the shining rain of glass. He held his place in the embrasure with difficulty, clinging to an iron ring in the wall and to his nearest companion.
“Cut it! We’ve cut their damned hose! Cut! Cut it!”
The crowd was wilder now, frenzied28. Stacey, looking down, saw faces convulsed, venomous, filthy29 with ugliness. He felt a shudder31 of loathing32 and recollected33 with passionate34 assent35 what Anatole France had called life—“a sickness, a leprosy, a mold on the face of the earth.”
“Nigger! Give us that nigger!”
Time passed. Stacey, knowing mobs, thought that perhaps eventually this one would wear itself out on its own emotion, begin to break up into individuals sick with fatigue36, and little by little disperse37. But he soon perceived that it had too varied38 a spectacle to witness, an immense vicious vaudeville39, something new every few minutes,—a ladder thrown against the court-house wall, half scaled by eight or ten youths, pushed slowly back by the defenders40, and crashing over at last to earth, the scalers leaping off wildly as it fell; a rush through the door; fighting; shots.
Even so, the mob had sullen41 moments when its roar sank to a rumble, but again it occurred to Stacey that it was being lashed42 up afresh by leaders. There was a young man on a white horse there in the street before the besieged43 building. Twice he wheeled his horse about and harangued44 the crowd. His voice was inaudible here, but the emotion he created immediately around him swept on, like something tangible45, beyond the reach of his words, and his gestures stirred men to renewed frenzy46. Also it struck Stacey that, while here at the corner the crowd was jammed beyond hope of penetration47, there on the left, just before the south side of the court-house, where the fight was sharpest, was room to move. There were rushes, assaults. The fighting part of the mob was relatively48 small. Oh, they all wanted the negro, damn them! They wanted blood and torture. But as spectators. If only he could get there!
And at this thought, that there were deliberate leaders, anger began to rise in Stacey, who till now had felt only disgust and scorn.
But a sudden whirling streamer of red light curved into a broken window of the court-house and a dull explosion made the air throb49. A red glare flamed up inside the building, and a great “Ah-h-h!” came from the crowd.
“By God! look at it!”—“A bomb! Oh, Christ! a bomb!”—“Oh, look at her burn!”—“Nigger, we’ll get him now!”—“Oh, nigger!”—“A-e-e-e!” Shouts, leaps, struggles, madness.
The crowd could afford to wait now, thought Stacey, looking on grimly, as black smoke poured from windows and rose in clouds, begriming the marble walls.
It was late. How long had he been here in this filth30? Two hours? Three? Stacey looked at his watch. Ten-thirty. He gazed back wearily down the street, in a sullen despair beneath which anger smoldered50. An outrage51 to be born into such a world! And he could not take refuge in himself. He hated himself as he hated this mob. Oh, he did not, of course, feel with them now! What was a black man’s life or a white man’s—any man’s—his own—Philip Blair’s, even—to deserve such clamor? He was hard, crusted over with bitterness. But there had been times in France when . . .
A sudden frenzied shriek16 from the mob made him start and turn his eyes back to the court-house. On the steps at its entrance, that opening on the street which Stacey had followed, alone in the lurid52 smoky light stood a man—rather stout53, not tall, but impressive in his solitude54.
“The mayor!”—“It’s the mayor!”—“Smith!”—“Mayor!” came in a shattered volley of cries from all about.
Then in one fierce burst of sound: “Nigger! Give us that nigger! Nigger! Nigger!”
And, after this, dwindling55 sound, save from the storm centre at the south entrance where the news could not be known; finally a semblance56 of silence. Stacey could not hear the man’s voice when he spoke—“I can’t do that, boys!” he learned later the words had been—but he could see him shake his head and could see the firm negative gesture he made with both extended hands.
An immense insane howl of anger burst out. A crowd surged up the east steps, and the solitary57 figure disappeared among them, dragged down in a chaotic58 black mass of assailants.
A thrill of exultation59 and anger ran through Stacey. By God! he’d stood them off! One living man with a soul of his own against the mob! And he was to be dragged down like that? killed for it? Beside himself, Stacey leaped to the ground and fought madly to break through to the one man on the scene. Impossible! Far from pushing forward, he was caught in a sudden retreating surge of the throng and swept back, back, raging, down the street, to the edge of a narrow roofed-in alley60 that led out of it behind the theatre building. Here he held his own once more.
Mad cries of wrath61 against the mayor came from all about him. “Nigger lover!”—“Get the nigger lover!”—“Lynch him!”
Close to Stacey a heavy red-faced man was shaking his clenched62 fists high in the air. “Oh, lynch him! The God-damn son of a bitch! Oh, nigger lover! Oh, kill him! Lynch him!” he shrieked, his voice hoarse63, his face purple, convulsed, incredibly bestial.
And suddenly a white ungovernable rage flared64 up in Stacey. There was nothing left of his personality but rage. He seized the man about the waist, and, helped by a new surge of the crowd, half flung him, half was swept with him, back into the narrow dark entrance of the alley and down it.
The momentum65 gathered from the crowd hurled both forward, staggering, and separated them. But Stacey was upon his man again instantly. They were perhaps thirty yards down the alley in a semi-obscurity.
“Here! You! What d’you—?”
Stacey merely dived, in hot silence, for the man’s throat, and fastened his hands upon it tensely.
The victim struck out wildly, gasped66, kicked, but Stacey bent67 him back and leaned over, sinking his thumbs deeper and deeper with every ounce of his great strength into the fleshy throat. And, as he pressed, he had the delirious68 exultant delusion69 that he was strangling all humanity. His teeth were set. His eyes were terrible with hatred70.
The man’s face grew violet, his eyes protruded71 loathsomely72, his gurgling mouth opened to press out a swollen73 tongue. Then all at once he relaxed weakly, his whole body limp. Stacey flung him off, and he fell in a sprawled74 motionless heap to the ground.
Stacey looked down for a moment and pushed the body with the toe of his shoe, then turned away, wiping his hands on his handkerchief. He was quite calm again, fierce, but with no further impulse to kill.
He did not go back and fight his way into the crowd once more. Where was the use? He could not break through. Instead, he followed the alley in, leaving the roar of the crowd behind him, and came out eventually into another street, parallel with the one he had left. It, too, was crowded, but not densely75 like the first. Stacey made his way off from it swiftly, and before long reached still another street, empty, silent.
But from back over there behind the intervening house-walls came yet wilder noise and crackling volleys of shots. They had got the negro, Stacey supposed.
He strode on for a long, long time—half an hour? an hour?—heedless of direction, turning corners aimlessly, until at last he was walking up a street down which, toward him, people were flowing in groups, talking loudly. The show was over, no doubt, the audience dispersing76.
He heard excited comments. “The nigger got his, all right!”—“Damn shame about the mayor!”—“Oh, I dunno! Too damn fresh!”
Stacey whirled about and caught the man who had said it was a shame. “Did they kill the mayor?” he demanded.
The man addressed stared, open-mouthed, with frightened eyes at Stacey’s stern face. “N-no!” he stammered77. “They hung him up tw-twice, but he was—was cut down. He’s all right, I guess. Th-they got him away. I said it was a damned shame,” he added weakly, trying to release himself from Stacey’s grasp.
Stacey did not reply, but withdrew his hand and strode on, his teeth set.
Again he walked aimlessly for a long while, but at last, making a wide curve, he turned back toward the noise that still came in broken waves from the riot centre.
Finally, led by the glow of the fire, he approached the court-house once more, but now from the north. On this side it was not flush with the street but set in some fifty yards behind an ornamental78 grass-plot.
Street, grass-plot and curving walks were covered with a howling throng, not so thick as to prevent passage, but rushing wildly this way and that under the red light from the burning building.
The centre of the confusion Stacey presently made out to be a motor car careering about through the crowd, that shouted exultantly79 and stumbled back out of its path.
All at once it bore down on Stacey. He sprang aside to avoid it, then, looking back, saw that after it, at the end of a rope, trailed a shapeless bumping object.
The rope that towed this curious object caught for a moment on an electric light pole, the car came to a temporary halt, and Stacey, bending over to look at the thing more closely, perceived that it was the charred80, naked and limbless torso of a man.
Three hysterical81 girls, their hats awry82, their arms linked, pushed him out of the way and kicked, squealing83, at the dead flesh.
Stacey left the scene.
He found a small lunch-room open in a neighboring street. It was crowded with genial84 exulting85 ex-rioters. But Stacey pressed up to the counter, ordered sandwiches and coffee, and gulped86 them down ravenously87. He was frankly88 famished89. This did not shock him. He was too familiar with the physical effects of emotion even to give it a thought. And, indeed, so far as emotion went, he had, despite his almost impassive bearing, gone through more of it than the mob itself. For the mob had hated the negro and the mayor; Stacey had been consumed with hatred of the colossal90 mob itself—and of all men, all human life.
He left the lunch-room and went to his hotel. As he reached its doorway91 there was an echoing tramp of steady feet, and he turned to see a company of infantry92 march past. He saluted93, and the officer marching beside the men saluted in return, gravely.
“It’s time!” thought Stacey bitterly. “If I’d had two men and a machine-gun I could have cleared the street.”
He had thought he was done with all sympathy for armies. Error! He would have given his right hand to-night to be in command of his battalion94. Not because he cared for law and order. He didn’t give that for law and order! But because he could have saved the mayor—one brave man, a living individual—from the collective beast. And because he could have saved the negro. But mostly because he could have killed! killed!
He entered the hotel. Here, too, though the hour was late, were excited groups. Stacey pushed through them and up to the desk.
“The key to four hundred and twelve,” he demanded peremptorily95.
But the clerk, his elbows on the desk, was listening to the voluble conversation of a group of commercial travellers and paid no attention.
Stacey seized a paper-weight, lifted it, and flung it down with a crash. “Damn you! The key to four-twelve, I said! And be quick about it!”
The clerk jumped. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered, and reached a trembling hand for the key.
Probably at a normal moment he would have asserted his right to respect as a free American citizen. To-night things were rather strange.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
crave
|
|
| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
rumble
|
|
| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
intersection
|
|
| n.交集，十字路口，交叉点；[计算机] 交集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
scrambled
|
|
| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
snarling
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
squeals
|
|
| n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
bestial
|
|
| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
tainted
|
|
| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
shrieked
|
|
| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
contestants
|
|
| n.竞争者，参赛者( contestant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
raucous
|
|
| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
unbearable
|
|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
stark
|
|
| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
snarls
|
|
| n.（动物的）龇牙低吼( snarl的名词复数 )；愤怒叫嚷（声）；咆哮（声）；疼痛叫声v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的第三人称单数 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
shrieks
|
|
| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
hurled
|
|
| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
exultant
|
|
| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
frenzied
|
|
| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
filthy
|
|
| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
filth
|
|
| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
loathing
|
|
| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
recollected
|
|
| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
assent
|
|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
disperse
|
|
| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
vaudeville
|
|
| n.歌舞杂耍表演 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
defenders
|
|
| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
lashed
|
|
| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
besieged
|
|
| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
harangued
|
|
| v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
penetration
|
|
| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
relatively
|
|
| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
throb
|
|
| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
smoldered
|
|
| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
outrage
|
|
| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
lurid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
dwindling
|
|
| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
chaotic
|
|
| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
exultation
|
|
| n.狂喜，得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
clenched
|
|
| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
Flared
|
|
| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
momentum
|
|
| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
delirious
|
|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
delusion
|
|
| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
hatred
|
|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
protruded
|
|
| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
loathsomely
|
|
| adv.令人讨厌地，可厌地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
73
swollen
|
|
| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
sprawled
|
|
| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
densely
|
|
| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
dispersing
|
|
| adj. 分散的 动词disperse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
ornamental
|
|
| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
exultantly
|
|
| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
charred
|
|
| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
awry
|
|
| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
squealing
|
|
| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
exulting
|
|
| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
gulped
|
|
| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
ravenously
|
|
| adv.大嚼地，饥饿地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
famished
|
|
| adj.饥饿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
colossal
|
|
| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
infantry
|
|
| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
battalion
|
|
| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
peremptorily
|
|
| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |