Stacey was not particularly interested, having other things to think about. He barely glanced at the news headlines and smiled ironically as he did so, knowing that Colin Jeffries, who had a controlling interest in the stock of the street-railway company, also virtually owned the evening (Republican) paper and was engaged in many business enterprises with the owner of the morning (Democratic) paper. As for the editorials, he would no more have read them than he would have read the latest novel by Harold Bell Wright. But sometimes his father read them aloud at table in a tone of fierce assent4, and thus Stacey learned that they were all about “one hundred per cent. Americanism” and the duty of labor5 to yield something, just as capital was yielding something.
However, one afternoon Edwards, whom Stacey had not seen for a week, suddenly entered the office.
“Hello!” cried Stacey cordially. “Come in. Where have you been?”—then broke off at sight of the other’s appearance.
Edwards was unshaven and rather dirty, and his eyes glowed darkly in his tense face. He shut the door behind him, then sat down opposite Stacey at the desk.
“I want to talk to you, Carroll,” he said. “It’s about the strike.”
“All right,” said Stacey. “I hardly know anything about it, haven’t followed it.”
Edwards’ eyes suddenly blazed. “No,” he cried, “of course not! What’s it all matter to you? You’re all right! You’re not your brother’s keeper! It—”
“Now look here,” said Stacey, firmly but pleasantly enough, “cut out the class business, will you? You know that’s not the way you feel about me or you wouldn’t be coming here to see me. I haven’t a doubt but that the men are right in this strike, but the reason I’ve kept off the subject as much as possible is because I don’t see what in the world I can do about it, and I don’t know anything worse than futile6 sentimental7 sympathy.”
“I apologize, Carroll,” Edwards returned moodily8. “I didn’t mean that, of course. And I’d probably better apologize in advance for anything else I may break loose and say. I haven’t had much sleep lately.”
“That’s all right,” Stacey replied. “Go as far as you like.”
“Carroll,” said Edwards painfully, “we’re beaten. I mean, on every big thing. There isn’t going to be any change in the rotten system, not for now. There isn’t going to be any revolution. There isn’t going to be a beginning of socialism, all men sharing tasks, each according to his capacity. There’s just going to be the same tyranny there’s always been, the same exploitation of a lot of men by a few. I tell you, I’m broken-hearted!” He paused, his face set.
“You must be,” said Stacey, “if you hoped for that.”
“Oh, I did and I didn’t! I thought maybe—but now this strike,” he went on sharply. “Six months ago there’d have been a general strike in sympathy. Every workman in the city would have downed tools. Not—now! We’re beaten, I tell you! There are thousands of unemployed9, winter’s here, coal costs what you know, the men don’t dare. Beaten! You’ve heard what one of the big employers said openly—that pretty soon the men would be eating out of their hands! And here am I fighting for this puny10 little thing—that men be doled11 out enough to exist on! And fighting in vain!”
Stacey looked at him with silent sympathy.
“Here!” said Edwards, tearing papers from his pocket. “Here are the figures. Here’s what it costs a family of three to live—Government statistics. Here’s what the men were getting. Here’s what they’re to get now if they yield.” He pushed the papers across the table.
Stacey fingered them, but kept his eyes on his friend. “I know,” he said. “I can imagine without studying them. What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know,” said Edwards nervously12. “I’d thought of two or three things. If you were to print the facts—just the facts—with your name signed to them, in one of the papers. . . .”
Stacey smiled bitterly. “Fat chance! How much of a power in this town do you think I am? Don’t you know that Colin Jeffries, who owns the street-railway, controls the papers?”
“Yes, I know that, damn him!” Edwards burst out. “He’s everywhere! You can’t get out from under his shadow.”
“And even if I could get such an article printed, what would it accomplish? When did the public ever budge13? Inert14 mass of sheep! And all the time the papers harping15 on the idea that the street-railway company can’t pay its stock-holders even a nominal16 interest on their investment under current conditions.”
“Well,” Edwards fairly shouted, “and if they can’t! Do you know anything about that company? I do. I’ve looked into it with a lawyer. Way over-capitalized. Three millions of water, Carroll,—three cool millions into private pockets! So men must starve, must they, to pay interest on that stock?”
Stacey’s face was grim. “No,” he said shortly, “I hadn’t looked into it, but it doesn’t surprise me. I’ll tell you what I could do,” he said hesitatingly after a moment. “I—er—the only available income I have is what I make here at the office. I could turn over—say two hundred and fifty dollars a month of it to the union. And I might—that is, I don’t know what my sister does with her income—gives most of it away, I fancy—but I dare say she’d put in as much more.”
Edwards stared. “Say,” he said shakily, “that’s decent! I thought you had—well, it’s none of my business. But it wouldn’t be any use, Carroll. Not a hundredth part enough. But—thanks!”
“Oh!” said Stacey deprecatingly, then fell to thinking. “Look here,” he remarked finally, “there’s only one thing I can think of, and it will have to be you to do it rather than I. Also it’s only a faint chance. Now my father is an honest man—set in his beliefs, but honest. And he’s also influential17. Colin Jeffries probably defers18 as much to him as to any one living, because father’s very likely the only thoroughly19 honest, disinterested20 friend Jeffries has. Father believes in the principles Jeffries only exploits to make money out of. If you can get him—my father, I mean—on your side, he might take the matter up to Jeffries personally.”
Edwards’ face expressed extreme dislike of the suggestion. “Can’t say I care much for the idea—like begging for what you’ve a right to.”
“I didn’t suppose you would. But I estimate that what you’re out for is to save a living wage for these men—by any means.”
“Yes,” Edwards muttered, “I’d do anything. But how on earth could I swing your father into line?”
“Well,” said Stacey slowly, “come out to the house this evening at eight-fifteen, just when dinner’s over, and talk to him, always about the personal side, the facts of it, show him the figures, and keep away from all discussion of principles! Appeal to his sense of fair play to get him to go down with you to-morrow morning and see the men themselves.”
“Mind now!” Stacey called after him, “no principles!”
Stacey made himself very agreeable at dinner that evening. He was keyed up by anticipation22, his eyes glowed, and he looked younger. There was an added warmth in the harmony that had been lately achieved in the Carroll house. But Stacey saw Catherine glance at him wonderingly. It wasn’t possible to hide feelings from Catherine.
He caught her alone for a moment on the way to the library. “Now listen!” he said. “You stick by me. Don’t budge from the library. And support me in every way you can.”
Her dark eyes were curious, but her lips curved faintly into a smile—perhaps at his tone of command, that was so unlike his customary tone with her.
He would explain nothing, however; only marched her on down the hall. And a very few minutes later Parker came in to say that a Mr. Edwards had called.
“Oh, yes,” Stacey exclaimed, “he’s a friend of mine! Bring him in, Parker,—or, no, I’ll go get him myself,” and he went out. “Take it easy now, and no principles,” he growled23 to Edwards, as he piloted him in.
“Father,” Stacey remarked, “this is my friend, Edwards,—was commander of the Legion post, you know. Mrs. Blair, Mr. Edwards.”
“How do you do, sir?” said Mr. Carroll, shaking hands. His face had assumed its keen yet non-committal business-look. Mr. Carroll knew something about Edwards, of course, and disapproved24 of what he knew, but he was a courteous25 gentleman in his own house; such a man as Mr. Latimer, artistically26 conscious of every attitude, could not have expressed the situation more nicely.
“I wanted to say a few words to you, sir, about this strike,” Edwards began, sitting down awkwardly in the chair toward which Stacey had impelled27 him.
Mr. Carroll did not reply at once. He gnawed28 at his moustache, his eyes grew harder, and he shot one swift angry glance at Stacey.
Up to now Stacey had been rather pleased with himself; he thought he had engineered things well. It suddenly struck him that, instead, he had made a mess of them. His father was angry with him, and therefore more hostile to Edwards. And Edwards was nowhere near at his best; he was gauche29, heavy, impressed by his surroundings—it had never occurred to Stacey that he might be,—and correspondingly resentful. Oh, Lord! Stacey looked across helplessly at Catherine.
She had poured out another cup of coffee and now handed it to the guest. “Will you have sugar, Mr. Edwards?” she asked.
“No—no, thank you!” he replied, startled, and took the cup gingerly. He looked as though he would much rather have refused it had he dared.
Mr. Carroll turned his eyes back to the young man. “I have no connection with the street-railway company, Mr. Edwards,” he said deliberately30, choosing his words with care. “On the basis of such information as I have been able to obtain in regard to the strike my sympathies are with the company. I fail to see why capital should have to make all the sacrifices and labor none. But since you—and Stacey—wish it, I shall be glad to hear you state the men’s side of the case. I should think, however, that some official of the street-railway company would be the proper person to hear it.”
Edwards, who had flushed, made a quick angry gesture. But this almost upset the fragile cup that he held; so he was forced into restraint. He drank his coffee hastily before replying.
“Well, sir,” he began then, “Carroll—I mean Stacey—thought if I could give you the facts as I did to him you’d maybe see them our way. I don’t want to talk about principles, sir—”
“Why not?”
Edwards glanced wrathfully at Stacey. “Because we wouldn’t agree about them and there wouldn’t be any use in our trying to.” His hand trembled slightly, and the tiny silver spoon rattled32 against his coffee cup; so he rose and limped over to a table to rid himself of the nuisance once for all.
Catherine leaned forward. “Stacey told me you had been wounded in the war, Mr. Edwards,” she said softly.
He looked toward her. “Yes, ma’am,” he returned, “at Les Eparges. My right leg was rather shot to bits.”
Stacey drew a breath of relief. He hardly thought Catherine was being deliberately tactful; she had spoken impulsively34. But the result was excellent. And Edwards in the tone with which he replied to Catherine revealed that old-fashioned attitude of deference35 toward women just as women, which was also Mr. Carroll’s attitude.
“Pretty well, thanks. I happened to draw a good surgeon.”
As for Stacey, he said nothing at all. He had that much sense anyway, he told himself. He’d have to face his father later on; for the present he wanted to be as nearly forgotten as possible. So he sat still and commented silently on the shifting fortunes of the battle.
“Have a cigar, Edwards?” asked Mr. Carroll, holding out his case. (Good! There was a touch of something more personal in this.)
“No, thank you, sir.” (Oh, confound it! why didn’t he take one?).
Edwards drew his papers from his pocket. “Mr. Carroll,” he said, “I’m not going to talk to you at all about social theories or about what sort of stock it is that the street-railway company wants to pay dividends37 on.” (“Well, damn it, then, don’t!” cried Stacey internally.) “I only want to show you, in figures, the condition of the employees just as men; what they were getting, what they’re going to get if they accept this cut in wages, what it costs a family of three to live to-day.” And he began to read.
He did not read aloud very well. He stuttered a little over a word now and then. But there was an intensity38 in his deep voice that lent an odd warmth to the figures about groceries, fuel, wages, and the rest. Mr. Carroll must see that the man was in deadly earnest.
When he had finished reading he stretched out the papers. “Want to see them?” he demanded abruptly39.
Mr. Carroll shook his head. He was frowning and chewing at the end of his cigar. “The trouble is,” he began, but with less than his usual firmness, “that you can’t separate facts from principles. Labor—”
“Oh,” cried Catherine suddenly, “you must!”
Two of the three men started and turned toward her; Stacey had been looking at her already.
But Catherine’s eyes were fixed now on the guest. “Do you mean, Mr. Edwards,” she asked, in a voice that revealed both compassion40 and scorn, “that the highest wage of any employee would be only forty cents an hour?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Edwards bitterly, “if they accept the cut in wages.”
“And are there many families of three?”
“Most are a good deal more than three,” he replied. “About twenty per cent. of the men are unmarried and perhaps bring the average down to three.”
Catherine’s face had an odd expression. Stacey thought she looked like a sorrowful goddess. “Before my husband died,” she said, “we were a family of four. We were living on two hundred and fifty dollars a month, and you thought, Mr. Carroll, that we had to live too sordidly41. You will do something?”
Stacey was touched by the mention of Phil. The thought of Phil was with him, almost like a gentle presence, very often. Catherine spoke33 of him seldom but, when she did so, quite simply and naturally, as now. She must miss him sadly, Stacey thought, and felt grieved for her. But, since it was his instinct to carry through unswervingly anything he had undertaken, he was also exultant43, as well as faintly amused at his father, who was being swept away from principles at every turn, simply not permitted to play with them.
“I can’t say I like those statistics,” said Mr. Carroll at last, more to Catherine than to Edwards. Then he turned to the latter. “But I’d have to know more. I’d have to look into things. And then I don’t know what I could do about it; I might do something, I suppose. Confound it! sir,” he exclaimed impatiently, “why didn’t you take this up with some official of the company?”
“I want you to know more, sir,” Edwards returned eagerly. “I’d like it if you’d go down with me and see some of the strikers man to man, get their story.”
Mr. Carroll reflected, frowning. “All right,” he said sharply. “Come to my office to-morrow morning at nine.”
Catherine’s face fairly shone, and Mr. Carroll, looking back at her, relaxed his sternness and leaned over to pat her hand.
“May I go, too?” she asked of them both.
“Yes, ma’am!” said Edwards, getting up. “I’d like that.”
He made his adieux clumsily, with too much formality, and Stacey accompanied him down the hall to the door.
“Well,” Edwards remarked, “that’s something, I suppose,—thanks to Mrs. Blair. Precious little help you were, though, Carroll!”
“Oh, yes,” said Stacey cheerfully, “I messed things up properly. But then, look at you! What the devil do you mean by behaving like a resentful commoner at a court function? Go on home, you sulky snob44!” he added with a laugh, and pushed his friend out of the door.
Then he returned to the library.
His father and Catherine were sitting there in silence, she gazing away with dark abstracted eyes, he frowning slightly and staring down at a closed magazine on which he tapped nervously with his fingers. He looked up and turned to Catherine as Stacey entered.
“You a member of this conspiracy45, Catherine?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Stacey exclaimed promptly46, “she wasn’t! Didn’t know a thing about it. It was all my damfoolishness.”
“I see,” said Mr. Carroll, and rose. “I’ll go to bed, I think. Good night.”
But Stacey set his back against the door. “No, sir,” he returned, “let’s have this out. I’ll concede that I was wrong to do this in this way. Now you go ahead and tell me some more things.”
His father stood there, looking at him keenly, antagonistically47, judging him. Mr. Carroll’s upper lip was drawn48 in a little, and there was a harshness about his face. One could see that he had fought hard fights in life and that he was still an adversary49 to be reckoned with.
“I am not aware,” he began coldly, “of being in my dotage—yet. If anybody wants anything from me the thing for him to do is to come and ask me for it; then if I think he ought to have it he’ll get it. I’ll be damned if I’ll be cosseted50 and cajoled into a good humor so that something can be wormed out of me.”
Absolutely justified51, his father was, Stacey thought helplessly. “You’re perfectly52 right, sir,” he said, “and I apologize, My only excuse for not being frank—and I admit it’s not good enough—is that I was so confoundedly anxious for you to hear Edwards’ story, and was fool enough to think you might refuse if I asked you to, point-blank.”
For just an instant Stacey glanced away to Catherine and saw with sharp regret that her eyes were full of pain. Why the devil had he let her in for this? Then he looked back at his father.
But Mr. Carroll’s wrath31 was not assuaged53, and when he spoke again Stacey perceived that a long resentment54, dangerously repressed, had burst loose finally.
“You take me for a damned fool,” Mr. Carroll went on angrily. “I’m a fool perhaps, but not a damned fool. Do you think I can’t see how you humor me?—the nice, kindly, tolerant spirit you show for my foibles, your ‘poor-dad-he’s-growing-old’ attitude! Superior, sir! Intolerably superior!”
This was pretty bad, and all the worse for the tiny element of truth it contained. “Now look here, dad!” Stacey pleaded. “That’s not so. There isn’t anybody in the world I respect more than I do you. Why—”
“Extraordinary method of showing it you take, then!” snapped his father. “Respect—nothing! At heart you’re a Bolshevist, sir. Well, then, if you are, be one! You’re not consistent. You’re a Bolshevist in theory” (“Oh, Lord! I haven’t got any theories!” Stacey thought, but did not try to say), “a millionaire in practice. I gave you a tidy fortune. You took it, didn’t you? You live here with me in a certain amount of luxury. Well, why do you? Why don’t you go and live in a hut?” He paused, out of breath, glaring at his son.
Stacey was pale; for this hurt. But he was further than before from losing his temper, since now the attack was unjust. To his amazement55, and certainly to Mr. Carroll’s as well, it was Catherine who lost her temper—or almost.
“Mr. Carroll!” she cried—and both men, turning suddenly toward her, saw her standing56 erect57, a slim firm figure with a face of angry beauty. “That’s unfair and cruel and not like you! I know that Stacey cares less for money than any one else in Vernon—and it is a shame that it should have to be I to say so. He lived for four years in mud and horror because he hoped it would do some good. It’s wonderful that when he came back and seemed to find that it hadn’t done any good he could keep his sanity58. And still he’d go and live like that again if it were of any use. And you accuse him of living here because of the luxuries you give him! He lives here because of his affection for you and because of the affection he thought you had for him. It’s—shameful—what you said!” She ceased and sat down again, her breath coming fast, her lips quivering.
Stacey gazed at her, his heart beating rather quickly; he was overwhelmed with the number of his emotions. He was astounded59 at the brave magnificent way she had spoken, proud that it was in his cause, deeply touched, and somehow profoundly sad.
As for Mr. Carroll, he looked in a dazed way from Catherine to his son. “There is no excuse for what I—said to you, son,” he said at last. “I don’t suppose you can forgive me. Try to, if you are able.”
Stacey walked over and shook his hand. “Oh—er—shucks, dad!” he muttered. “It’s all right—forgotten.” It was the first time he had ever heard his father apologize to any one for anything.
Mr. Carroll gave his son a strange wistful look of gratitude60, then went over to Catherine. “Are you going to let me sit down beside you, Catherine?” he asked. “You’re not going to pack up and leave the house just because your host’s an old fool?”
“No,” she said in a strangled voice, giving him her hand, but keeping her face averted61, so that neither he nor Stacey could see it.
“I’m not altogether an old fool, my dear,” he added, patting her hand; then got up again. “Er—a game of pinochle, Stacey?” he suggested.
Stacey nodded, and moved to get the card table. “Sure! I’d like one. But you don’t really think you’ve any chance against me, do you, dad?” he said shakily.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
alleging
|
|
| 断言，宣称，辩解( allege的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
militia
|
|
| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
assent
|
|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
futile
|
|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
moodily
|
|
| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
unemployed
|
|
| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
puny
|
|
| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
doled
|
|
| 救济物( dole的过去式和过去分词 )； 失业救济金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
budge
|
|
| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
inert
|
|
| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
harping
|
|
| n.反复述说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
nominal
|
|
| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
influential
|
|
| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
defers
|
|
| v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的第三人称单数 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
disinterested
|
|
| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
disapproved
|
|
| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
artistically
|
|
| adv.艺术性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
impelled
|
|
| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
gnawed
|
|
| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
gauche
|
|
| adj.笨拙的，粗鲁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
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： |
|
|
|
|
34
impulsively
|
|
| adv.冲动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
dividends
|
|
| 红利( dividend的名词复数 )； 股息； 被除数； （足球彩票的）彩金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
sordidly
|
|
| adv.肮脏地；污秽地；不洁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
42
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
exultant
|
|
| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
snob
|
|
| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
conspiracy
|
|
| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
antagonistically
|
|
| adv.敌对地，对抗性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
adversary
|
|
| adj.敌手，对手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
cosseted
|
|
| v.宠爱，娇养，纵容( cosset的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
assuaged
|
|
| v.减轻( assuage的过去式和过去分词 )；缓和；平息；使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
sanity
|
|
| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
astounded
|
|
| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
averted
|
|
| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |