The aristocracy of the Antiques ignored the aristocracy of the Parvenus; the Parvenus laughed at the Antiques, (and secretly envied them.)
There were certain important “society” customs which one in Laura’s position needed to understand. For instance, when a lady of any prominence9 comes to one of our cities and takes up her residence, all the ladies of her grade favor her in turn with an initial call, giving their cards to the servant at the door by way of introduction. They come singly, sometimes; sometimes in couples; and always in elaborate full dress. They talk two minutes and a quarter and then go. If the lady receiving the call desires a further acquaintance, she must return the visit within two weeks; to neglect it beyond that time means “let the matter drop.” But if she does return the visit within two weeks, it then becomes the other party’s privilege to continue the acquaintance or drop it. She signifies her willingness to continue it by calling again any time within twelve-months; after that, if the parties go on calling upon each other once a year, in our large cities, that is sufficient, and the acquaintanceship holds good. The thing goes along smoothly10, now. The annual visits are made and returned with peaceful regularity11 and bland12 satisfaction, although it is not necessary that the two ladies shall actually see each other oftener than once every few years. Their cards preserve the intimacy13 and keep the acquaintanceship intact.
For instance, Mrs. A. pays her annual visit, sits in her carriage and sends in her card with the lower right hand corner turned down, which signifies that she has “called in person;” Mrs. B: sends down word that she is “engaged” or “wishes to be excused”—or if she is a Parvenu4 and low-bred, she perhaps sends word that she is “not at home.” Very good; Mrs. A. drives on happy and content. If Mrs. A.’s daughter marries, or a child is born to the family, Mrs. B. calls, sends in her card with the upper left hand corner turned down, and then goes along about her affairs—for that inverted15 corner means “Congratulations.” If Mrs. B.’s husband falls downstairs and breaks his neck, Mrs. A. calls, leaves her card with the upper right hand corner turned down, and then takes her departure; this corner means “Condolence.” It is very necessary to get the corners right, else one may unintentionally condole16 with a friend on a wedding or congratulate her upon a funeral. If either lady is about to leave the city, she goes to the other’s house and leaves her card with “P. P. C.” engraved17 under the name—which signifies, “Pay Parting Call.” But enough of etiquette18. Laura was early instructed in the mysteries of society life by a competent mentor19, and thus was preserved from troublesome mistakes.
The first fashionable call she received from a member of the ancient nobility, otherwise the Antiques, was of a pattern with all she received from that limb of the aristocracy afterward20. This call was paid by Mrs. Major-General Fulke-Fulkerson and daughter. They drove up at one in the afternoon in a rather antiquated21 vehicle with a faded coat of arms on the panels, an aged14 white-wooled negro coachman on the box and a younger darkey beside him—the footman. Both of these servants were dressed in dull brown livery that had seen considerable service.
The ladies entered the drawing-room in full character; that is to say, with Elizabethan stateliness on the part of the dowager, and an easy grace and dignity on the part of the young lady that had a nameless something about it that suggested conscious superiority. The dresses of both ladies were exceedingly rich, as to material, but as notably22 modest as to color and ornament23. All parties having seated themselves, the dowager delivered herself of a remark that was not unusual in its form, and yet it came from her lips with the impressiveness of Scripture24:
“The weather has been unpropitious of late, Miss Hawkins.”
“It has indeed,” said Laura. “The climate seems to be variable.”
“It is its nature of old, here,” said the daughter—stating it apparently25 as a fact, only, and by her manner waving aside all personal responsibility on account of it. “Is it not so, mamma?”
“Quite so, my child. Do you like winter, Miss Hawkins?” She said “like” as if she had an idea that its dictionary meaning was “approve of.”
“Not as well as summer—though I think all seasons have their charms.”
“It is a very just remark. The general held similar views. He considered snow in winter proper; sultriness in summer legitimate26; frosts in the autumn the same, and rains in spring not objectionable. He was not an exacting27 man. And I call to mind now that he always admired thunder. You remember, child, your father always admired thunder?”
“He adored it.”
“No doubt it reminded him of battle,” said Laura.
“Yes, I think perhaps it did. He had a great respect for Nature. He often said there was something striking about the ocean. You remember his saying that, daughter?”
“Yes, often, Mother. I remember it very well.”
“And hurricanes... He took a great interest in hurricanes. And animals. Dogs, especially—hunting dogs. Also comets. I think we all have our predilections28. I think it is this that gives variety to our tastes.”
Laura coincided with this view.
“Do you find it hard and lonely to be so far from your home and friends, Miss Hawkins?”
“I do find it depressing sometimes, but then there is so much about me here that is novel and interesting that my days are made up more of sunshine than shadow.”
“Washington is not a dull city in the season,” said the young lady. “We have some very good society indeed, and one need not be at a loss for means to pass the time pleasantly. Are you fond of watering-places, Miss Hawkins?”
“I have really had no experience of them, but I have always felt a strong desire to see something of fashionable watering-place life.”
“We of Washington are unfortunately situated29 in that respect,” said the dowager. “It is a tedious distance to Newport. But there is no help for it.”
Laura said to herself, “Long Branch and Cape30 May are nearer than Newport; doubtless these places are low; I’ll feel my way a little and see.” Then she said aloud:
“Why I thought that Long Branch—”
There was no need to “feel” any further—there was that in both faces before her which made that truth apparent. The dowager said:
“Nobody goes there, Miss Hawkins—at least only persons of no position in society. And the President.” She added that with tranquility.
“Newport is damp, and cold, and windy and excessively disagreeable,” said the daughter, “but it is very select. One cannot be fastidious about minor31 matters when one has no choice.”
The visit had spun32 out nearly three minutes, now. Both ladies rose with grave dignity, conferred upon Laura a formal invitation to call, and then retired33 from the conference. Laura remained in the drawing-room and left them to pilot themselves out of the house—an inhospitable thing, it seemed to her, but then she was following her instructions. She stood, steeped in reverie, a while, and then she said:
“I think I could always enjoy icebergs—as scenery but not as company.”
Still, she knew these two people by reputation, and was aware that they were not ice-bergs when they were in their own waters and amid their legitimate surroundings, but on the contrary were people to be respected for their stainless34 characters and esteemed35 for their social virtues36 and their benevolent37 impulses. She thought it a pity that they had to be such changed and dreary38 creatures on occasions of state.
The first call Laura received from the other extremity39 of the Washington aristocracy followed close upon the heels of the one we have just been describing. The callers this time were the Hon. Mrs. Oliver Higgins, the Hon. Mrs. Patrique Oreille (pronounced O-relay,) Miss Bridget (pronounced Breezhay) Oreille, Mrs. Peter Gashly, Miss Gashly, and Miss Emmeline Gashly.
The three carriages arrived at the same moment from different directions. They were new and wonderfully shiny, and the brasses40 on the harness were highly polished and bore complicated monograms41. There were showy coats of arms, too, with Latin mottoes. The coachmen and footmen were clad in bright new livery, of striking colors, and they had black rosettes with shaving-brushes projecting above them, on the sides of their stove-pipe hats.
When the visitors swept into the drawing-room they filled the place with a suffocating42 sweetness procured43 at the perfumer’s. Their costumes, as to architecture, were the latest fashion intensified44; they were rainbow-hued; they were hung with jewels—chiefly diamonds. It would have been plain to any eye that it had cost something to upholster these women.
The Hon. Mrs. Oliver Higgins was the wife of a delegate from a distant territory—a gentleman who had kept the principal “saloon,” and sold the best whiskey in the principal village in his wilderness45, and so, of course, was recognized as the first man of his commonwealth46 and its fittest representative.
He was a man of paramount47 influence at home, for he was public spirited, he was chief of the fire department, he had an admirable command of profane48 language, and had killed several “parties.” His shirt fronts were always immaculate; his boots daintily polished, and no man could lift a foot and fire a dead shot at a stray speck49 of dirt on it with a white handkerchief with a finer grace than he; his watch chain weighed a pound; the gold in his finger ring was worth forty five dollars; he wore a diamond cluster-pin and he parted his hair behind. He had always been regarded as the most elegant gentleman in his territory, and it was conceded by all that no man thereabouts was anywhere near his equal in the telling of an obscene story except the venerable white-haired governor himself. The Hon. Higgins had not come to serve his country in Washington for nothing. The appropriation51 which he had engineered through Congress for the maintenance of the Indians in his Territory would have made all those savages52 rich if it had ever got to them.
The Hon. Mrs. Higgins was a picturesque53 woman, and a fluent talker, and she held a tolerably high station among the Parvenus. Her English was fair enough, as a general thing—though, being of New York origin, she had the fashion peculiar54 to many natives of that city of pronouncing saw and law as if they were spelt sawr and lawr.
Petroleum55 was the agent that had suddenly transformed the Gashlys from modest hard-working country village folk into “loud” aristocrats56 and ornaments57 of the city.
The Hon. Patrique Oreille was a wealthy Frenchman from Cork58. Not that he was wealthy when he first came from Cork, but just the reverse. When he first landed in New York with his wife, he had only halted at Castle Garden for a few minutes to receive and exhibit papers showing that he had resided in this country two years—and then he voted the democratic ticket and went up town to hunt a house. He found one and then went to work as assistant to an architect and builder, carrying a hod all day and studying politics evenings. Industry and economy soon enabled him to start a low rum shop in a foul59 locality, and this gave him political influence. In our country it is always our first care to see that our people have the opportunity of voting for their choice of men to represent and govern them—we do not permit our great officials to appoint the little officials. We prefer to have so tremendous a power as that in our own hands. We hold it safest to elect our judges and everybody else. In our cities, the ward2 meetings elect delegates to the nominating conventions and instruct them whom to nominate. The publicans and their retainers rule the ward meetings (for everybody else hates the worry of politics and stays at home); the delegates from the ward meetings organize as a nominating convention and make up a list of candidates—one convention offering a democratic and another a republican list of incorruptibles; and then the great meek60 public come forward at the proper time and make unhampered choice and bless Heaven that they live in a free land where no form of despotism can ever intrude61.
Patrick O’Riley (as his name then stood) created friends and influence very fast, for he was always on hand at the police courts to give straw bail62 for his customers or establish an alibi63 for them in case they had been beating anybody to death on his premises64. Consequently he presently became a political leader, and was elected to a petty office under the city government. Out of a meager65 salary he soon saved money enough to open quite a stylish66 liquor saloon higher up town, with a faro bank attached and plenty of capital to conduct it with. This gave him fame and great respectability. The position of alderman was forced upon him, and it was just the same as presenting him a gold mine. He had fine horses and carriages, now, and closed up his whiskey mill.
By and by he became a large contractor67 for city work, and was a bosom68 friend of the great and good Wm. M. Weed himself, who had stolen $20,600,000 from the city and was a man so envied, so honored,—so adored, indeed, that when the sheriff went to his office to arrest him as a felon69, that sheriff blushed and apologized, and one of the illustrated70 papers made a picture of the scene and spoke71 of the matter in such a way as to show that the editor regretted that the offense72 of an arrest had been offered to so exalted73 a personage as Mr. Weed.
Mr. O’Riley furnished shingle74 nails to the new Court House at three thousand dollars a keg, and eighteen gross of 60-cent thermometers at fifteen hundred dollars a dozen; the controller and the board of audit75 passed the bills, and a mayor, who was simply ignorant but not criminal, signed them. When they were paid, Mr. O’Riley’s admirers gave him a solitaire diamond pin of the size of a filbert, in imitation of the liberality of Mr. Weed’s friends, and then Mr. O’Riley retired from active service and amused himself with buying real estate at enormous figures and holding it in other people’s names. By and by the newspapers came out with exposures and called Weed and O’Riley “thieves,”—whereupon the people rose as one man (voting repeatedly) and elected the two gentlemen to their proper theatre of action, the New York legislature. The newspapers clamored, and the courts proceeded to try the new legislators for their small irregularities. Our admirable jury system enabled the persecuted76 ex-officials to secure a jury of nine gentlemen from a neighboring asylum77 and three graduates from Sing-Sing, and presently they walked forth78 with characters vindicated79. The legislature was called upon to spew them forth—a thing which the legislature declined to do. It was like asking children to repudiate80 their own father. It was a legislature of the modern pattern.
Being now wealthy and distinguished81, Mr. O’Riley, still bearing the legislative82 “Hon.” attached to his name (for titles never die in America, although we do take a republican pride in poking83 fun at such trifles), sailed for Europe with his family. They traveled all about, turning their noses up at every thing, and not finding it a difficult thing to do, either, because nature had originally given those features a cast in that direction; and finally they established themselves in Paris, that Paradise of Americans of their sort.—They staid there two years and learned to speak English with a foreign accent—not that it hadn’t always had a foreign accent (which was indeed the case) but now the nature of it was changed. Finally they returned home and became ultra fashionables. They landed here as the Hon. Patrique Oreille and family, and so are known unto this day.
Laura provided seats for her visitors and they immediately launched forth into a breezy, sparkling conversation with that easy confidence which is to be found only among persons accustomed to high life.
“I’ve been intending to call sooner, Miss Hawkins,” said the Hon. Mrs. Oreille, “but the weather’s been so horrid85. How do you like Washington?”
Laura liked it very well indeed.
Mrs. Gashly—“Is it your first visit?”
Yes, it was her first.
All—“Indeed?”
Mrs. Oreille—“I’m afraid you’ll despise the weather, Miss Hawkins. It’s perfectly86 awful. It always is. I tell Mr. Oreille I can’t and I won’t put up with any such a climate. If we were obliged to do it, I wouldn’t mind it; but we are not obliged to, and so I don’t see the use of it. Sometimes its real pitiful the way the childern pine for Parry—don’t look so sad, Bridget, ‘ma chere’—poor child, she can’t hear Parry mentioned without getting the blues87.”
Mrs. Gashly—“Well I should think so, Mrs. Oreille. A body lives in Paris, but a body, only stays here. I dote on Paris; I’d druther scrimp along on ten thousand dollars a year there, than suffer and worry here on a real decent income.”
Miss Gashly—“Well then, I wish you’d take us back, mother; I’m sure I hate this stoopid country enough, even if it is our dear native land.”
Miss Emmeline Gashly—“What and leave poor Johnny Peterson behind?” [An airy genial88 laugh applauded this sally].
Miss Gashly—“Sister, I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself!”
Miss Emmeline—“Oh, you needn’t ruffle90 your feathers so: I was only joking. He don’t mean anything by coming to the house every evening—only comes to see mother. Of course that’s all!” [General laughter].
Mrs. G.—“Let your sister alone, Emmeline. I never saw such a tease!”
Mrs. Oreille—“What lovely corals you have, Miss Hawkins! Just look at them, Bridget, dear. I’ve a great passion for corals—it’s a pity they’re getting a little common. I have some elegant ones—not as elegant as yours, though—but of course I don’t wear them now.”
Laura—“I suppose they are rather common, but still I have a great affection for these, because they were given to me by a dear old friend of our family named Murphy. He was a very charming man, but very eccentric. We always supposed he was an Irishman, but after he got rich he went abroad for a year or two, and when he came back you would have been amused to see how interested he was in a potato.
He asked what it was! Now you know that when Providence92 shapes a mouth especially for the accommodation of a potato you can detect that fact at a glance when that mouth is in repose—foreign travel can never remove that sign. But he was a very delightful93 gentleman, and his little foible did not hurt him at all. We all have our shams—I suppose there is a sham89 somewhere about every individual, if we could manage to ferret it out. I would so like to go to France. I suppose our society here compares very favorably with French society does it not, Mrs. Oreille?”
Mrs. O.—“Not by any means, Miss Hawkins! French society is much more elegant—much more so.”
Laura—“I am sorry to hear that. I suppose ours has deteriorated94 of late.”
Mrs. O.—“Very much indeed. There are people in society here that have really no more money to live on than what some of us pay for servant hire. Still I won’t say but what some of them are very good people—and respectable, too.”
Laura—“The old families seem to be holding themselves aloof95, from what I hear. I suppose you seldom meet in society now, the people you used to be familiar with twelve or fifteen years ago?”
Mrs. O.—“Oh, no-hardly ever.”
Mr. O’Riley kept his first rum-mill and protected his customers from the law in those days, and this turn of the conversation was rather uncomfortable to madame than otherwise.
Hon. Mrs. Higgins—“Is Francois’ health good now, Mrs. Oreille?”
Mrs. O.—(Thankful for the intervention)—“Not very. A body couldn’t expect it. He was always delicate—especially his lungs—and this odious96 climate tells on him strong, now, after Parry, which is so mild.”
Mrs. H:—“I should think so. Husband says Percy’ll die if he don’t have a change; and so I’m going to swap97 round a little and see what can be done. I saw a lady from Florida last week, and she recommended Key West. I told her Percy couldn’t abide98 winds, as he was threatened with a pulmonary affection, and then she said try St. Augustine. It’s an awful distance—ten or twelve hundred mile, they say but then in a case of this kind—a body can’t stand back for trouble, you know.”
Mrs. O.—“No, of course that’s off. If Francois don’t get better soon we’ve got to look out for some other place, or else Europe. We’ve thought some of the Hot Springs, but I don’t know. It’s a great responsibility and a body wants to go cautious. Is Hildebrand about again, Mrs. Gashly?”
Mrs. G.—“Yes, but that’s about all. It was indigestion, you know, and it looks as if it was chronic99. And you know I do dread100 dyspepsia. We’ve all been worried a good deal about him. The doctor recommended baked apple and spoiled meat, and I think it done him good. It’s about the only thing that will stay on his stomach now-a-days. We have Dr. Shovel101 now. Who’s your doctor, Mrs. Higgins?”
Mrs. H.—“Well, we had Dr. Spooner a good while, but he runs so much to emetics102, which I think are weakening, that we changed off and took Dr. Leathers. We like him very much. He has a fine European reputation, too. The first thing he suggested for Percy was to have him taken out in the back yard for an airing, every afternoon, with nothing at all on.”
Mrs. O. and Mrs. G.—“What!”
Mrs. H.—“As true as I’m sitting here. And it actually helped him for two or three days; it did indeed. But after that the doctor said it seemed to be too severe and so he has fell back on hot foot-baths at night and cold showers in the morning. But I don’t think there can be any good sound help for him in such a climate as this. I believe we are going to lose him if we don’t make a change.”
Mrs. O. “I suppose you heard of the fright we had two weeks ago last Saturday? No? Why that is strange—but come to remember, you’ve all been away to Richmond. Francois tumbled from the sky light—in the second-story hall clean down to the first floor—”
Everybody—“Mercy!”
Everybody—“What!”
Mrs. O. “Just as true as you live. First we thought he must be injured internally. It was fifteen minutes past 8 in the evening. Of course we were all distracted in a moment—everybody was flying everywhere, and nobody doing anything worth anything. By and by I flung out next door and dragged in Dr. Sprague; President of the Medical University no time to go for our own doctor of course—and the minute he saw Francois he said, ‘Send for your own physician, madam;’ said it as cross as a bear, too, and turned right on his heel, and cleared out without doing a thing!”
Mrs. O—“Well you may say it. I was nearly out of my wits by this time. But we hurried off the servants after our own doctor and telegraphed mother—she was in New York and rushed down on the first train; and when the doctor got there, lo and behold106 you he found Francois had broke one of his legs, too!”
Everybody—“Goodness!”
Mrs. O.—“Yes. So he set his leg and bandaged it up, and fixed107 his ribs and gave him a dose of something to quiet down his excitement and put him to sleep—poor thing he was trembling and frightened to death and it was pitiful to see him. We had him in my bed—Mr. Oreille slept in the guest room and I laid down beside Francois—but not to sleep bless you no. Bridget and I set up all night, and the doctor staid till two in the morning, bless his old heart.—When mother got there she was so used up with anxiety, that she had to go to bed and have the doctor; but when she found that Francois was not in immediate84 danger she rallied, and by night she was able to take a watch herself. Well for three days and nights we three never left that bedside only to take an hour’s nap at a time. And then the doctor said Francois was out of danger and if ever there was a thankful set, in this world, it was us.”
Laura’s respect for these women had augmented108 during this conversation, naturally enough; affection and devotion are qualities that are able to adorn109 and render beautiful a character that is otherwise unattractive, and even repulsive110.
Mrs. Gashly—“I do believe I should a died if I had been in your place, Mrs. Oreille. The time Hildebrand was so low with the pneumonia111 Emmeline and me were all alone with him most of the time and we never took a minute’s sleep for as much as two days and nights. It was at Newport and we wouldn’t trust hired nurses. One afternoon he had a fit, and jumped up and run out on the portico112 of the hotel with nothing in the world on and the wind a blowing like ice and we after him scared to death; and when the ladies and gentlemen saw that he had a fit, every lady scattered113 for her room and not a gentleman lifted his hand to help, the wretches114! Well after that his life hung by a thread for as much as ten days, and the minute he was out of danger Emmeline and me just went to bed sick and worn out. I never want to pass through such a time again. Poor dear Francois—which leg did he break, Mrs. Oreille!”
Mrs. O.—“It was his right hand hind50 leg. Jump down, Francois dear, and show the ladies what a cruel limp you’ve got yet.”
Francois demurred115, but being coaxed116 and delivered gently upon the floor, he performed very satisfactorily, with his “right hand hind leg” in the air. All were affected—even Laura—but hers was an affection of the stomach. The country-bred girl had not suspected that the little whining117 ten-ounce black and tan reptile118, clad in a red embroidered119 pigmy blanket and reposing120 in Mrs. Oreille’s lap all through the visit was the individual whose sufferings had been stirring the dormant121 generosities122 of her nature. She said:
“Poor little creature! You might have lost him!”
Mrs. O.—“O pray don’t mention it, Miss Hawkins—it gives me such a turn!”
Laura—“And Hildebrand and Percy—are they—are they like this one?”
Mrs. G.—“No, Hilly has considerable Skye blood in him, I believe.”
Mrs. H.—“Percy’s the same, only he is two months and ten days older and has his ears cropped. His father, Martin Farquhar Tupper, was sickly, and died young, but he was the sweetest disposition123.—His mother had heart disease but was very gentle and resigned, and a wonderful ratter.”
As impossible and exasperating124 as this conversation may sound to a person who is not an idiot, it is scarcely in any respect an exaggeration of one which one of us actually listened to in an American drawing room—otherwise we could not venture to put such a chapter into a book which, professes125 to deal with social possibilities.—THE AUTHORS.]
So carried away had the visitors become by their interest attaching to this discussion of family matters, that their stay had been prolonged to a very improper126 and unfashionable length; but they suddenly recollected127 themselves now and took their departure.
Laura’s scorn was boundless128. The more she thought of these people and their extraordinary talk, the more offensive they seemed to her; and yet she confessed that if one must choose between the two extreme aristocracies it might be best, on the whole, looking at things from a strictly129 business point of view, to herd130 with the Parvenus; she was in Washington solely131 to compass a certain matter and to do it at any cost, and these people might be useful to her, while it was plain that her purposes and her schemes for pushing them would not find favor in the eyes of the Antiques. If it came to choice—and it might come to that, sooner or later—she believed she could come to a decision without much difficulty or many pangs132.
But the best aristocracy of the three Washington castes, and really the most powerful, by far, was that of the Middle Ground: It was made up of the families of public men from nearly every state in the union—men who held positions in both the executive and legislative branches of the government, and whose characters had been for years blemishless, both at home and at the capital. These gentlemen and their households were unostentatious people; they were educated and refined; they troubled themselves but little about the two other orders of nobility, but moved serenely133 in their wide orbit, confident in their own strength and well aware of the potency134 of their influence. They had no troublesome appearances to keep up, no rivalries135 which they cared to distress136 themselves about, no jealousies137 to fret138 over. They could afford to mind their own affairs and leave other combinations to do the same or do otherwise, just as they chose. They were people who were beyond reproach, and that was sufficient.
Senator Dilworthy never came into collision with any of these factions139. He labored140 for them all and with them all. He said that all men were brethren and all were entitled to the honest unselfish help and countenance141 of a Christian142 laborer143 in the public vineyard.
Laura concluded, after reflection, to let circumstances determine the course it might be best for her to pursue as regarded the several aristocracies.
Now it might occur to the reader that perhaps Laura had been somewhat rudely suggestive in her remarks to Mrs. Oreille when the subject of corals was under discussion, but it did not occur to Laura herself. She was not a person of exaggerated refinement144; indeed, the society and the influences that had formed her character had not been of a nature calculated to make her so; she thought that “give and take was fair play,” and that to parry an offensive thrust with a sarcasm145 was a neat and legitimate thing to do. She sometimes talked to people in a way which some ladies would consider, actually shocking; but Laura rather prided herself upon some of her exploits of that character. We are sorry we cannot make her a faultless heroine; but we cannot, for the reason that she was human.
She considered herself a superior conversationist. Long ago, when the possibility had first been brought before her mind that some day she might move in Washington society, she had recognized the fact that practiced conversational146 powers would be a necessary weapon in that field; she had also recognized the fact that since her dealings there must be mainly with men, and men whom she supposed to be exceptionally cultivated and able, she would need heavier shot in her magazine than mere147 brilliant “society” nothings; whereupon she had at once entered upon a tireless and elaborate course of reading, and had never since ceased to devote every unoccupied moment to this sort of preparation. Having now acquired a happy smattering of various information, she used it with good effect—she passed for a singularly well informed woman in Washington. The quality of her literary tastes had necessarily undergone constant improvement under this regimen, and as necessarily, also the duality of her language had improved, though it cannot be denied that now and then her former condition of life betrayed itself in just perceptible inelegancies of expression and lapses148 of grammar.
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1 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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2 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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3 parvenus | |
n.暴富者( parvenu的名词复数 );暴发户;新贵;傲慢自负的人 | |
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4 parvenu | |
n.暴发户,新贵 | |
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5 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
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6 ingenuity | |
n.别出心裁;善于发明创造 | |
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7 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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8 ostentation | |
n.夸耀,卖弄 | |
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9 prominence | |
n.突出;显著;杰出;重要 | |
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10 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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11 regularity | |
n.规律性,规则性;匀称,整齐 | |
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12 bland | |
adj.淡而无味的,温和的,无刺激性的 | |
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13 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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14 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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15 inverted | |
adj.反向的,倒转的v.使倒置,使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 condole | |
v.同情;慰问 | |
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17 engraved | |
v.在(硬物)上雕刻(字,画等)( engrave的过去式和过去分词 );将某事物深深印在(记忆或头脑中) | |
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18 etiquette | |
n.礼仪,礼节;规矩 | |
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19 mentor | |
n.指导者,良师益友;v.指导 | |
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20 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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21 antiquated | |
adj.陈旧的,过时的 | |
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22 notably | |
adv.值得注意地,显著地,尤其地,特别地 | |
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23 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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24 scripture | |
n.经文,圣书,手稿;Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》,《圣经》中的一段 | |
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25 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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26 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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27 exacting | |
adj.苛求的,要求严格的 | |
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28 predilections | |
n.偏爱,偏好,嗜好( predilection的名词复数 ) | |
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29 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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30 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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31 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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32 spun | |
v.纺,杜撰,急转身 | |
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33 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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34 stainless | |
adj.无瑕疵的,不锈的 | |
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35 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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36 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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37 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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38 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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39 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
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40 brasses | |
n.黄铜( brass的名词复数 );铜管乐器;钱;黄铜饰品(尤指马挽具上的黄铜圆片) | |
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41 monograms | |
n.字母组合( monogram的名词复数 ) | |
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42 suffocating | |
a.使人窒息的 | |
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43 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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44 intensified | |
v.(使)增强, (使)加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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46 commonwealth | |
n.共和国,联邦,共同体 | |
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47 paramount | |
a.最重要的,最高权力的 | |
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48 profane | |
adj.亵神的,亵渎的;vt.亵渎,玷污 | |
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49 speck | |
n.微粒,小污点,小斑点 | |
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50 hind | |
adj.后面的,后部的 | |
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51 appropriation | |
n.拨款,批准支出 | |
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52 savages | |
未开化的人,野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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53 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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54 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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55 petroleum | |
n.原油,石油 | |
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56 aristocrats | |
n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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57 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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58 cork | |
n.软木,软木塞 | |
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59 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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60 meek | |
adj.温顺的,逆来顺受的 | |
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61 intrude | |
vi.闯入;侵入;打扰,侵扰 | |
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62 bail | |
v.舀(水),保释;n.保证金,保释,保释人 | |
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63 alibi | |
n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明;借口 | |
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64 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
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65 meager | |
adj.缺乏的,不足的,瘦的 | |
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66 stylish | |
adj.流行的,时髦的;漂亮的,气派的 | |
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67 contractor | |
n.订约人,承包人,收缩肌 | |
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68 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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69 felon | |
n.重罪犯;adj.残忍的 | |
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70 illustrated | |
adj. 有插图的,列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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71 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 | |
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72 offense | |
n.犯规,违法行为;冒犯,得罪 | |
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73 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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74 shingle | |
n.木瓦板;小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌);v.用木瓦板盖(屋顶);把(女子头发)剪短 | |
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75 audit | |
v.审计;查帐;核对;旁听 | |
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76 persecuted | |
(尤指宗教或政治信仰的)迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 ); 烦扰,困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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77 asylum | |
n.避难所,庇护所,避难 | |
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78 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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79 vindicated | |
v.澄清(某人/某事物)受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 );表明或证明(所争辩的事物)属实、正当、有效等;维护 | |
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80 repudiate | |
v.拒绝,拒付,拒绝履行 | |
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81 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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82 legislative | |
n.立法机构,立法权;adj.立法的,有立法权的 | |
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83 poking | |
n. 刺,戳,袋 vt. 拨开,刺,戳 vi. 戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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84 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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85 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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86 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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87 blues | |
n.抑郁,沮丧;布鲁斯音乐 | |
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88 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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89 sham | |
n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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90 ruffle | |
v.弄皱,弄乱;激怒,扰乱;n.褶裥饰边 | |
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91 prettily | |
adv.优美地;可爱地 | |
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92 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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93 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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94 deteriorated | |
恶化,变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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96 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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97 swap | |
n.交换;vt.交换,用...作交易 | |
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98 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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99 chronic | |
adj.(疾病)长期未愈的,慢性的;极坏的 | |
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100 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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101 shovel | |
n.铁锨,铲子,一铲之量;v.铲,铲出 | |
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102 emetics | |
n.催吐药( emetic的名词复数 ) | |
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103 ribs | |
n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 );(船或屋顶等的)肋拱;肋骨状的东西;(织物的)凸条花纹 | |
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104 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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105 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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106 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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107 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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108 Augmented | |
adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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109 adorn | |
vt.使美化,装饰 | |
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110 repulsive | |
adj.排斥的,使人反感的 | |
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111 pneumonia | |
n.肺炎 | |
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112 portico | |
n.柱廊,门廊 | |
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113 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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114 wretches | |
n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 );可怜的人;恶棍;坏蛋 | |
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115 demurred | |
v.表示异议,反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116 coaxed | |
v.哄,用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 );巧言骗取;哄劝,劝诱 | |
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117 whining | |
n. 抱怨,牢骚 v. 哭诉,发牢骚 | |
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118 reptile | |
n.爬行动物;两栖动物 | |
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119 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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120 reposing | |
v.将(手臂等)靠在某人(某物)上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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121 dormant | |
adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
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122 generosities | |
n.慷慨( generosity的名词复数 );大方;宽容;慷慨或宽容的行为 | |
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123 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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124 exasperating | |
adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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125 professes | |
声称( profess的第三人称单数 ); 宣称; 公开表明; 信奉 | |
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126 improper | |
adj.不适当的,不合适的,不正确的,不合礼仪的 | |
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127 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 ) | |
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128 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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129 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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130 herd | |
n.兽群,牧群;vt.使集中,把…赶在一起 | |
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131 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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132 pangs | |
突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 ); 悲痛 | |
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133 serenely | |
adv.安详地,宁静地,平静地 | |
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134 potency | |
n. 效力,潜能 | |
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135 rivalries | |
n.敌对,竞争,对抗( rivalry的名词复数 ) | |
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136 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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137 jealousies | |
n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 );妒羡 | |
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138 fret | |
v.(使)烦恼;(使)焦急;(使)腐蚀,(使)磨损 | |
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139 factions | |
组织中的小派别,派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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140 labored | |
adj.吃力的,谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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141 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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142 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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143 laborer | |
n.劳动者,劳工 | |
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144 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
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145 sarcasm | |
n.讥讽,讽刺,嘲弄,反话 (adj.sarcastic) | |
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146 conversational | |
adj.对话的,会话的 | |
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147 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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148 lapses | |
n.失误,过失( lapse的名词复数 );小毛病;行为失检;偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 );陷入;倒退;丧失 | |
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