While Kathleen was locked in Alice's room, she was writing to her father:
"My Darling Daddy.—If ever there was a cold, dreary1, abominable2 land, it is this where they wave the British flag. The ugliness of it would make you sick. The people are as ugly as the country, and they're so stiff and stuck-up. If you suppose for a moment that your wild Irish girl can stand much of this sort of thing, you are fine and mistaken, and you can tell the mother so. I mean to write to Aunt Katie O'Flynn to-morrow and give her a fine piece of my mind. Early in the day, dad, I did not think that I could stay at all; but I have got a plan in my head now, and if I succeed I may at least put up with one term of this detestable school. I won't tell you the plan, for you mightn't approve; in fact, I can guess in advance that you wouldn't approve. Anyhow, it is going to occupy the time and thoughts of your Kathleen. Now I want a good bit of money; not a pound or even five pounds, but more than that. Can you send me a ten-pound note, daddy mine, and say nothing whatever about it to the mother or the retainers at Carrigrohane? And can you let me have it as quick as quick can be? Maybe I will want more before the term is up, or maybe I won't. Anyhow, we will let that lie in the future. Oh, my broth3 of an old dad, wouldn't I like to hug you this blessed minute? How is everybody at home? How are the mountains? How is the sea? How is the trout-stream? Are those young cousins of mine behaving themselves, the spalpeens? And how are you, my heart of hearts—missing your Kathleen, I doubt not? Well, no more for the present. They're rattling4 at the door like anything, and there's a detestable boy now whistling 'Garry Owen' right into my heart. You can't imagine what I am feeling. Oh, the omadhaun! he is changing it now into 'St. Patrick's Day,' Wisha, then, daddy! I must stop, for it's more than the heart of woman can stand. Your affectionate daughter,
"Kathleen."
This letter was posted by Kathleen herself. After supper she went with David into the old loft5 over the tumble-down stables. It was not a very safe place of refuge, for the rafters were rotten and might tumble down at any time. Still, the sense of danger made it all, the more interesting to the children. There they sat side by side, and Kathleen told David about her old life. She was very outspoken6 and affectionate, and very fierce and very wild. To look at her, one would have said there never was any one less reserved; but Kathleen in her heart of hearts was intensely reserved. Her real feelings she never told; her real hopes she never breathed. She talked with high spirits all the time; and although she liked David and was much comforted by his words and his actions, he did not get at the real Kathleen at all.
When Alice came back that evening Kathleen was sound asleep in her little bed, dreaming of Carrigrohane and the old home. She was murmuring some loving words as Alice entered the room.
"Oh, daddy mine, my heart is sore for you," she was saying in a tone which caused Alice to pause and look at her attentively8.
"She is the most awful girl I ever heard of," thought Alice. "I am sure she will get us into trouble. I know that those three guineas a week that mother gets for having her are not worth all the mischief9 she will drag us into. But still, she does look pretty when she is asleep."
Kathleen had very long and very thick eyelashes and nobly arched brows. Her forehead was broad and full and beautifully white. The mischievous10, dare-devil expression of her face when awake was softened11 in her sleep. Alice, who had determined12 to come very noisily into the room and bang her things about, to take rude possession of her own half of the room—which, after all, was the better half—was softened by the look on the girl's face. She knelt for a moment at her bedside and prayed that God would keep her from quite hating Kathleen. This was a great deal from Alice, who had made up her mind never to be friends with the Irish girl. Then she got into bed and fell asleep.
The next morning, quite early, Kathleen was up. She was accustomed to getting up almost at cock-crow at Carrigrohane, and when Alice opened her eyes, it was to see an empty bed and an empty room.
"I wonder if she's up to mischief?" she thought.
She got up and went to the window. Kathleen was walking across the common. She had no hat on, and no jacket. She was stepping along leisurely13, looking up sometimes at the sky, and sometimes pausing as though she was thinking hard.
"She will catch cold and be ill; that will be the next trouble," thought the indignant Alice. She sleepily proceeded with her dressing14. It was only half-past seven. The Great Shirley School met at nine. Alice was seldom downstairs until past eight. When she came down this morning she saw, to her amazement15, Kathleen helping16 the very untidy maid-of-all-work to lay the breakfast things. She was dashing about, putting plates and cups and saucers anyhow upon the board.
"Now then, Maria," she said, "shall I run down to the kitchen and bring up the hot bacon and the porridge? I will, with a heart and a half. Oh, you poor girl, how tired you look!"
Maria, whom Alice never noticed, looked with adoring eyes at beautiful Kathleen.
"It isn't right, miss. I ought to be doing my own work," she said. "I am ever so much obliged to you, miss."
"Wisha, then, it is I who like to help you," said Kathleen, "for you look fair beat."
She dashed past Alice, and appeared the next moment in the kitchen.
"Where's the bacon, cook? And where's the bread, and where's the butter, and all the rest of the breakfast? See, woman—see! Give me a tray and I will fill it up and take the things upstairs with my own hands. You think it is beneath me, perhaps; but I am a lady from a castle, and at Carrigrohane Castle we often do this sort of thing when the hands of the poor maids are full to overflowing17."
The cook, a sandy-haired and sour-looking woman, began by scowling18 at Kathleen; but soon the girl's pretty face and merry eyes appeased19 her. She and Kathleen had almost a quarrel as to who was to carry up the tray, but Kathleen won the day; and when Mrs. Tennant made her appearance, feeling tired and overdone20, she was amazed to see Kathleen acting21 parlor-maid.
"I love it," she said. "If I can help you, you dear, tired, worn one, I shall be only too glad."
"I am sure, mother," said Alice, "it is very good of Kathleen to wish to do the household work; but as she has been sent here to gain some information of another sort, do you think it ought to be allowed?"
"And who will prevent it, darling? That is the question," said Kathleen in her softest voice.
Alice was silent.
"I tell you what," said Kathleen. "When I see you beginning to help your poor, exhausted22 mother, and running messages for that overworked slavey—I think you call her Maria—then perhaps I'll do less. And when there's some one else to mend the boys' socks, perhaps I won't offer; but until there is, the less you say about such things the better, Miss Alice Tennant."
Ben kicked David under the table, and David kicked him back to stay quiet. Altogether the breakfast was a noisy one.
Kathleen went to school quite prepared to carry out her promise to Susy Hopkins. She had neatly23 packed the little Irish diamond brooch in a box, and had slipped under it a tiny note:
"Get as many foundation girls as you can to meet me, at whatever place you like to appoint, this evening. I have a plan to propose.—Kathleen O'Hara.
"P.S.—You can name the place by pinning a note under my desk. Be sure you all come. The plan is gloryious."
The thought of the note and the plan and the little brooch kept Kathleen in a fairly good humor on her walk to school. There she saw Ruth Craven. She was decidedly angry with Ruth for having, as she said to herself, "snubbed her" the day before. But beauty always had a curious effect on the Irish girl, and when she observed Ruth's really exquisite25 little face, clear cut as a cameo, with eyes full of expression, and watched the lips ready to break into the gentlest smiles, Kathleen said to herself:
"It is all over with me. She is the only decent-looking colleen I have met in this God-forsaken country. Make up to her I will."
She dashed, therefore, almost rudely through a great mass of incoming girls, and seized Ruth by her shoulder.
"Ruth," she said, "go and talk to Susy Hopkins during recess26. She will have something to say, and I want you so badly. You won't refuse me, will you, Ruth?"
"But I don't know what you want," said Ruth.
"Go and talk to Susy Hopkins; she will know. Oh, there she is!"
"Kathleen, Kathleen!" called out Alice. "The school-bell has just rung, and they are opening the doors. Come do come."
"In a jiff," replied Kathleen.
She ran up to Susy.
"This is what I promised," she said; "and there is a note inside. Read it, and give me the answer where I have asked you."
Susy Hopkins, a most ordinary little girl, who had no position of any sort in the school, colored high with delight. Some of the paying girls looked at her in astonishment27. Susy walked into the school with her head high in the air; she quite adored Kathleen, for she was making her a person of great distinction.
"We are going to have a glorious time," whispered Susy to Kate Rourke as they made their way to their respective classes.
Susy was small, rather stupid, and absolutely unimportant. Kate was big, black-eyed, impudent28. She was jealous of the paying girls of the school; but she treated Susy as some one beneath contempt.
"Don't drag my sleeve," she replied crossly. "And what you do mean by a glorious time? I don't understand you."
"You will presently," said Susy. "And when all is said and done, you will have to remember that you owe it to me. But I have no time to talk now; only meet me, and bring as many of the foundationers as you can collect into the left-hand corner of the playground, just behind the Botanical Laboratory, at recess."
Kate made no answer, unless a toss of her head could have been taken as a reply. Her first impulse was to take no notice of Susy's remarks—little Susy Hopkins, the daughter of a small stationer in the town, a girl who had scarcely scraped through in her examination. It was intolerable that she should put on such airs.
The work of the school began, and all the girls were busy. Kate was clever, and she meant to try for one of the big scholarships. She would get her forty pounds a year when the time came, and go to Holloway College or some other college. She was not a lady by birth; she had not a single instinct of a true lady within her; but she was intensely ambitious. She did not care so much for beauty as for style; she made style her idol29. The look that Cassandra wore as she walked quietly across the room, the set of her dress, the still more wonderful set of her head as it was placed on her queenly young shoulders—these were the things that burnt into Kate's soul and made her restless and dissatisfied. She would willingly have given all her father's wealth—and he was quite well-to-do for his class—- to have Cassandra's face, Cassandra's voice, Cassandra's figure. Cassandra was not at all a pretty girl, but her appearance appealed to all the wild ambitions in Kate's soul. She had a jealous contempt of Ruth Craven, who, although a foundation girl, managed to look like a lady; but her envy was centered round Cassandra. As to the Irish girl, she had scarcely noticed her up to the present.
Work went on that morning with much verve and vigor30. It was a pleasant morning: the windows were open; the schoolrooms were all well ventilated; the teachers, the best of their kind, were stimulating31 in their lectures and in their conversation. There was a look of business and animation32 throughout the whole place: it was like a hive of bees. At last the moment of recess arrived. Kate just raised her head, looked over the shoulders of her companions, and saw Susy Hopkins darting33 restlessly about, catching34 one girl by the sleeve, another by the arm, whispering in the ear of a third, flinging her arm round the neck of a fourth; and as she spoke7 to the girls they looked interested, astonished, and cordial. They moved away to that lonely part of the playground which was situated35 at the back of the Botanical Laboratory. Kate had made up her mind not to take the least notice of Susy. She was pacing up and down alone; for, most provoking, all her chosen friends had gone off with that young lady. Suddenly she saw Ruth Craven going very quietly by. By all the laws of the foundationers, Ruth ought to speak to her companions in misfortune. Kate rushed up to her.
"What are they all doing there?" she said. "Do you happen to know Susy Hopkins?"
"No," replied Ruth gently. "She came up to me just now and asked me to join her and some other girls at the back of the Laboratory. I don't know that I want to."
"I am curious," said Kate. "Of course, I am no friend of Susy's; she is a most contemptible36 little wretch37; but I may as well know what it is all about. Come with me, won't you?"
Ruth hesitated.
"Come along; we may as well know. There is probably some mischief on foot, and it is only fair that we should be forewarned."
"I don't want to know," said Ruth; but as Kate slipped her hand through her arm and pulled her along, she said resignedly, "Well, if I must I must."
As they strolled across the big playground, Ruth turned and glanced at Cassandra; but Cassandra was busy making friends with Florence, who was very angry with her for her desertion of the day before, and took no notice of Ruth. The Irish girl was nowhere in sight. Ruth sighed and continued her walk with Kate.
The most lonely and most dreary part of the playground was that little portion which was situated at the back of the Laboratory. Nothing grew there; the ground was innocent of grass, and much worn by the tramping of young feet. There were swings and garden-seats and preparations for tennis and other games in the rest of the big playground, but nothing had ever been done at the back of the Laboratory. When the two girls arrived they found five other girls waiting for them. Their names were, of course, Susy Hopkins, who considered herself on this delightful38 occasion quite the leader; a gentle and refined-looking girl of the name of Mary Rand; Rosy39 Myers, who was pretty and frivolous40, with dark eyes and fair hair; Clara Sawyer, who was renowned41 for her vulgar taste in dress; and Hannah Johnson, a heavy-looking girl with a scowling brow and a very pronounced jaw42. Hannah Johnson was about the plainest girl in the school. When Susy saw Kate Rourke and Ruth Craven she uttered a little scream of delight.
"Now we are complete," she said. "Listen to me, all you girls, for I haven't too long in which to tell you; that horrid43 bell will ring us back to lessons and dullness in less than no time. The most wonderful, delightful chance is offered to us. I met her yesterday, and she decided24 to do it. She is a brick of bricks. She will make the most tremendous difference in our lives. You know, although you pretend not to feel it, but you all must know how we foundationers are sat upon and objected to in the school. We bear it as meekly44 as we can for the sake of our so-called advantages; but if we can be snubbed, we are, and if we can be neglected, we are—although it isn't the teachers we have to complain of, but the girls. Sometimes things are past bearing, and yet we are powerless. There are three hundred paying girls, and there are one hundred foundationers. What chance has one hundred against three?"
"What is the good of bringing all that up, Susy?" said Mary Rand. "We are foundationers, and we ought to be thankful."
"The education is splendid; we ought not to forget that," said Ruth Craven.
Susy turned on Ruth as though she would like to eat her.
"It is all very fine for you," she said. "Just because you happen to be pretty, they take you up. I wonder one of your fine friends doesn't pay for you, and so save your position out and out."
"I wouldn't allow her to," replied Ruth, her eyes flashing fire. "I had much rather be a foundationer. I mean to prove that I am every bit as good as a paying girl. I mean to make you all respect me, so there!"
"That'll do, Spitfire," said Kate Rourke. "The time is passing, and we must get to the bottom of Susy Hopkins's remarkable45 address.—What's up, Susy? What's up?"
"This," said Susy. "You know the Irish girl who has come to live with the Tennants?"
"Can't say I do," said Kate.
"Well, you will soon. She's a regular out-and-out beauty."
"I know her," cried Ruth Craven. "She is most lovely."
"She's better," said Susy; "she's bewitching. See; she gave me this." Here she pointed46 proudly to the Irish diamond brooch, which she had stuck in the bosom47 of her dress. The diamond had been polished, and flashed brightly; the silver setting was also as good as was to be found. The girls crowded round to admire, and "Oh, my!" "Oh, dear!" "Did you ever?" and "Well, I never!" sounded on all sides.
"You will be so set up now, Susan Hopkins, that we won't be able to bear you in the same class," said Clara Sawyer.
"Go on," exclaimed Hannah Johnson—"go on and tell us what you want. Your horrid brooch doesn't interest us. What have you got to say?"
"You are mad with jealousy48, and you know it," answered Susy. "Well, I am coming to the great news. The Irish girl's name is Kathleen O'Hara, and she comes from a castle over in the wild west of Ireland. Her father is very rich, and he keeps dogs and horses and carriages and—oh, everything that rich people keep. Compared to the other girls in the school, she is ten times a lady; and she has a true lady's heart. And she has taken a dislike, as far as I can see, to Alice Tennant."
"And I'm sure I'm not surprised," said Rosy Myers.
"Stuck-up thing!" said Clara Sawyer.
"Dirt beneath our feet!" exclaimed Hannah Johnson.
"Well; she doesn't like her either, though she doesn't use that kind of language," continued Susy. "Anyhow, she wants to befriend us—Oh, do let me speak!"—as Kate interrupted with a hasty exclamation49. "She thinks that we are just as good as herself. There is no false pride about a real lady, girls; and the end of it is that she has a plan to propose—something for our benefit and for her benefit. See for yourselves; this is her letter. It is in her own beautiful Irish, handwriting. You can read it, only don't tear it all to bits."
The girls did read the letter. They pressed close together, and one peeped over the shoulder of her companion, another stood on tiptoe, while a third tried to snatch the letter from the hand of her fellow; but all managed to read the words: "Get as many foundation girls as you can to meet me, at whatever place you like to appoint, this evening. I have a plan to propose." This letter and the end of the postscript50 excited the girls; there was no doubt whatever of that. "The plan is gloryious." They laughed at the word, smiled into each others' faces, and stood very close together consulting.
"The old quarry51," whispered Rosy.
"That's the place!" exclaimed Mary.
"Let us meet her, we seven by ourselves," was Kate's final suggestion. "We will then know what she wants, and if there is anything in it. We can form a committee, and get other girls to join by degrees. Hurrah52! I do say this is fun."
Susy was now quite petted by her companions. The conference hastily ended, and on entering the school Susy pinned a piece of paper under Kathleen's desk, on which she wrote: "The old quarry; nine o'clock this evening. Will meet you at a quarter to nine outside Mrs. Tennant's house."
When Kathleen received the communication her eyes flashed with delighted fire. She thrust the letter into her pocket and proceeded with her work. The Irish girl looked quite happy that day; she had something to interest her at last. Her lessons, too, were by no means distasteful. She had a great deal of quick wit and ready perception. Hitherto she had been taught anyhow, but now she was all keen to receive real instruction. Her intuitions were rapid indeed; she could come to startlingly quick conclusions, and as a rule her guesses were correct rather than otherwise. Kathleen had a passion for music; she had never been properly taught, but the soul of music was in her as much as it was in David Tennant. She had a beautiful melodious53 voice, which had, of course, not yet come to maturity54. Just before the end of the morning she took her first lesson in music. Her mistress was a very amiable55 and clever woman of the name of Agnes Spicer. Miss Spicer put a sheet of music before her.
"Play that," she said.
Kathleen frowned. Her delicate white fingers trembled for an instant on the keys. She played one or two bars perforce and very badly; then she dashed the sheet of music in an impetuous way to the floor.
"I can't," she said; "it isn't my style. May I play you something different?"
Miss Spicer was about to refuse, but looking at the girl, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes full of fire, she changed her mind.
"Just this once," she said; "but you must begin to practice properly. What I call amateur music can't be allowed here."
"Will this be allowed?" said Kathleen.
She dashed into heavy chords, played lightly a delicate movement, and then broke into an Irish air, "The Harp56 that once through Tara's Halls." From one Irish melody to another her light fingers wandered. She played with perfect correctness—with fire, with spirit. Soon she forgot herself. When she stopped, tears were running down her cheeks.
"What is music, after all," she said, looking full into the face of her teacher, "when you are far from the land you love? How can you stand music then? No, I don't mean to learn music at the Great Shirley School; I can't. When I am back again at home I shall play 'The Harp that once through Tara's Halls,' but I can't do it justice here. You will excuse me; I can't. I am sorry if I am rude, but it isn't in me. Some time, if you have a headache and feel very bad, as my dear father does sometimes, I shall play to you; but I can't learn as the other girls learn—it isn't in me."
Again she put her fingers on the keys of the piano and brought forth57 a few sobbing58, broken-hearted notes. Then she started up.
"I expect you will punish me for this, Miss Spicer, but I am sorry—I can't help myself."
Strange to say, Miss Spicer did not punish her. On the contrary, she took her hand and pressed it.
"I won't ask you to do any more to-day," she said. "I see you are not like others. I will talk the matter over with you to-morrow."
"And you will find me unchanged," said Kathleen. "Thank you, all the same, for your forbearance."
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
abominable
|
|
| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
broth
|
|
| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
rattling
|
|
| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
loft
|
|
| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
outspoken
|
|
| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
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： |
|
|
|
|
8
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
mischief
|
|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
mischievous
|
|
| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
leisurely
|
|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
overflowing
|
|
| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
scowling
|
|
| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
appeased
|
|
| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
overdone
|
|
| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
impudent
|
|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
idol
|
|
| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
vigor
|
|
| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
stimulating
|
|
| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
animation
|
|
| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
contemptible
|
|
| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
frivolous
|
|
| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
renowned
|
|
| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
postscript
|
|
| n.附言，又及；(正文后的)补充说明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
quarry
|
|
| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
hurrah
|
|
| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
melodious
|
|
| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
maturity
|
|
| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
harp
|
|
| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |