He stepped up and took the prisoner by the arm, and his four guards surrendered him without a word of protest. The magical manner in which Don had floored the biggest bully2 in school, before whom no boy in Bridgeport had ever been able to stand for a minute, either with boxing-gloves or bare fists, and the ease with which he had done it, astounded3 them. They had never seen anything like it before, and there was something very mysterious in it. Did not this backwoodsman have other equally bewildering tactics at his command which he could bring into play if 56he were crowded upon? Probably he had, and so the best thing they could do was to let him alone.
“Your name is Sam Arkwright, is it not?” said Don, taking one of the boy’s blue-cold hands in both his own warm ones. “I thought I had heard you answer to that name at roll-call. I am a plebe too, and so we’ll stand together. Put on these gloves and come with me. You will freeze if you stay here any longer. As for you,” he added, waving his hand toward the students to show that he included them all in the remarks he was about to make, “you are a pack of cowards, and I can whip the best man among you right here and now. Pick him out and let me take a look at him.”
“I am good for the best of them if they will come one at a time,” said Sam. “But I give in to a dozen when they all jump on me at once.”
“I will leave that challenge open,” said Don, as he led Sam away. “You know where my room is, and any little notes you may choose to shove under my door will receive prompt attention.”
Tom and his crowd did not speak; they had not yet recovered from their amazement4. They 57stood gazing after the rescued boy and his champion until they disappeared in the darkness, and then they turned and looked at one another.
“I declare, Duncan,” exclaimed Tom Fisher, who was the first to speak. “You’ve met your master at last, have you not?”
The defeated bully growled5 out something in reply, but his friends could not understand what it was. Like every boy who prides himself upon his strength and skill, he did not like to acknowledge that he had been beaten.
“Did he hurt you?” asked one of the students. “I noticed that you didn’t get up right away.”
“How in the name of all that’s wonderful did he do it?” inquired another. “I didn’t see him clinch6 or strike you.”
“He did neither,” replied Duncan, “and that’s just what bangs me. I am willing to swear that he did not touch me anywhere except on the hand, and he took hold of that just as though he wanted to give it a friendly shake. It’s a trick of some kind—a boss one, too—and I will give him my next quarter’s spending money if he will teach it to me.”
58“Humph!” exclaimed Tom Fisher. “You needn’t expect to him to do that. He doesn’t look to me to be such a fool. You and he may come together in earnest some day—if you don’t, he will be about the only boy you haven’t had a fight with since you have been a student at this academy—and then you will probably find out what his tricks are.”
“He didn’t hurt me at all,” continued Clarence; “but he could if he had been so disposed. If he had used a little more exertion7 he could have thrown me into that air-hole; and if I had happened to come up under the ice—ugh!” exclaimed Clarence, shivering all over as he looked down into the dark water.
“Is there no way in which we can get even with him?” asked Fisher.
“Is there!” replied Clarence, angrily. “Do you suppose that I am going to submit tamely to an insult like that? We’ll make a way to get even with him. Things have come to a pretty pass if a plebe is going to be allowed to come here and run this school to suit himself.”
The mere8 reference to such an unheard-of thing was enough to raise the ire of Tom Fisher 59and all his companions, who with one voice declared that the Planter, having presumed to lay violent hands on an upper-class boy, and to set at defiance9 one of the old-established customs of the academy, must be made to suffer the consequences. They held a long and earnest consultation10 there on the ice, and Fisher and Duncan, who were fruitful in expedients11, soon hit upon a plan which promised, if skillfully managed, to bring Sam Arkwright’s champion into serious trouble. It was a most dangerous plan, because it was to be carried out under the guise12 of friendship.
“That’s the only way to do it, fellows, you may depend upon it,” said Duncan, after their scheme had been thoroughly13 discussed. “We must bring him into trouble with the faculty14, and let them do the hazing15, for we couldn’t do it if we wanted to. I was nothing but a child in his grasp, and, to tell the honest truth, I have no desire to face him again.”
“I hope we shall succeed,” said Fisher. “But if the Planter turns out to be one of those good little boys who never do anything wrong, then what?”
60If Tom had only known it, he need not have bothered his head on this point. Unfortunately for Don, something happened that very night which made it comparatively easy for the conspirators16 to carry out the plans they had formed regarding him.
Meanwhile Don and Bert were walking briskly toward the academy in company with the rescued boy, who was somewhat protected from the keen wind by Bert’s muffler, which the latter had wrapped about his neck, and by Don’s gloves which he wore upon his hands. He was lost in admiration17 of his new friend’s prowess, and complimented him in the best language he could command.
“Are you an Irishman, sir?” Sam asked, at length.
“Look here,” answered Don, “my name is Gordon—there’s no ‘sir’ about it. No, I am not an Irishman. I am an American, I am proud to say; but I understand the Irish ‘hand and foot’ well enough to give it to such fellows as that Clarence Duncan. I can throw a man weighing two hundred pounds in that way if he will let me take hold of his hand.”
61“It was well done,” said Sam. “I never saw it done better.”
“I learned it of one of my father’s hired men—a discharged union soldier who came to our plantation18 penniless and hungry, and asked for work,” said Don. “I always make it a point to pick up any little thing of that kind that happens to fall in my way. It may come handy some day, you know.”
Perhaps you will now understand how Don had managed to throw the bully of the school so easily; but if you do not, we can only say that it cannot be described on paper so that you can gain even a faint idea of it. If you want to know just how it was done, the easiest way to learn is to ask some Irishman—the fresher he is from the old sod the better—to give you a practical illustration of the “hand and foot.” Simply give him your hand, and if his feelings toward you are friendly, he will send you flying through the air without hurting you in the least; but if he is not friendly, we would not advise you to go to him for information, for he can turn you heels up in an instant, and land you on your head with force 62enough to knock all your brains into your boots. Don had become so expert in this novel way of wrestling, and so prone19 to put it into practice at every opportunity, that none of the boys about Rochdale could be induced to shake hands with him.
“How did you ever happen to find your way to this school!” inquired Don, after Sam had exhausted20 his vocabulary in praising his new friend’s skill as a wrestler21. “Were you really a New York boot-black?”
“Yes, I was,” answered Sam, hesitatingly.
“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” said Bert, who thought from the way Sam spoke22 that he did not like to confess that he had once occupied so lowly a position in the world.
“Of course not,” Don hastened to add. “Any honest work is honorable. Your presence here proves that you didn’t want to remain a boot-black all your days.”
“No, I didn’t. I was ambitious to be something better,” said Sam, who then went on to give Don and his brother a short history of his life. He said that his father, who followed the sea for a livelihood23, had gone down with 63his vessel24 during a terrific storm off Cape25 Hatteras; that his mother had survived him but a few months; and that after her death a grasping landlord had seized all the household furniture as security for the rent that was due and unpaid26, turning him (Sam) into the streets to shift for himself. He spent the days in roaming about the city, looking in vain for work, and his nights in a lumber-yard to which he had been invited by a friendly boot-black, who found free lodgings27 there every night, and who, seeing Sam’s forlorn condition, gave him a plate of soup to eat and furnished him with a plank28 to sleep on. Finding that work was not to be had, Sam at last ran in debt for a boot-black’s “kit29,” which he procured30 from one of the fraternity who had saved money enough to open a corner peanut stand, and after a score or more of battles with boys whose “claims” he unwittingly “jumped,” he succeeded in establishing himself in front of a popular hotel in the city, where he was to be found early and late. It was there he met the Superintendent31 of the Bridgeport Military Academy, who patronized him twice every day, never failing to give him a quarter 64for each “shine,” or to spend a few minutes in conversation, with him after the boy’s work was completed.
From the day he was six years old up to the time his father was lost at sea, Sam attended the district school regularly; and as he was a very faithful student, and tried hard to learn, he knew more about books than boys of his age generally do. He felt that he was out of place among the ragged32, ignorant little gamins with whom he was daily and hourly thrown in contact, and they, realizing that he was not one of them, and that he believed himself to be fitted for something better than the life of a boot-black, tormented33 him in every conceivable way. He was so often called upon to protect his brush and his box of blacking from the young rowdies who would have despoiled34 him of them, that he became an adept35 at fighting, and it is probable that he would have opened the eyes of Tom Fisher and his crowd, had they not pounced36 upon him while he was asleep, and overpowered him before he could raise a hand to defend himself.
“I am sure I don’t know what it was that 65made the Professor take a liking37 to me,” said Sam in conclusion, “but it was something; and when he asked me if I wouldn’t like to quit that miserable38 business and go to school and learn to be a civil or a mining engineer, I tell you it almost took my breath away. I jumped at the chance. I gave my kit to a boy who was too poor to buy one, and came out here; and I am very sorry for it. The fellows don’t want me here, and they didn’t want me in New York, either. I hope I shall some day find a place where I shall not be in everybody’s way.”
“Don’t get down-hearted,” said Don, taking one of his hands out of his pocket long enough to give Sam an encouraging slap on the back. “Of course your tuition is free?”
“Yes, everything is furnished me. If it wasn’t I couldn’t stay here, for I have no money to speak of. The boys in New York badgered me so, and ran such heavy opposition39 to me that I couldn’t earn enough to buy a warm suit of clothes.”
“You will have an abundance of them in a day or two,” said Don, “for our uniforms will be along by that time. You couldn’t get an education on better terms than the Professor offers it to you, 66could you? And so long as he is willing that you should stay here, you can well afford to let the fellows grumble40 to their hearts’ content. Show the Professor that you appreciate his kindness by doing your duty like a man, and look to me for help whenever you get into trouble. Now the next thing is something else,” added Don, as he and his companions came to a halt in front of the high picket-fence which inclosed the academy grounds. “Where’s your room, Sam?”
“I haven’t any yet. I sleep in the attic41. The rooms on the floor occupied by our class are all taken except one. That has been used as a store-room, and as soon as it is cleared out I am to have it for my own.”
“Well, do you want the teachers to know anything about this night’s work?”
“Of course not,” returned Sam, who had all a decent boy’s horror of tale-bearing.
“Because, if you do,” continued Don, “you can walk up to one of the guards, let him report you for being outside the grounds without a pass, and when you are hauled over the coals for it, you can say that you were taken out against your will.”
67“But I don’t want to say that,” answered Sam, quickly. “It would bring Tom and the rest into trouble. I have nothing against them, and I should be glad to be friends with them if they would only let me.”
“You’ll do to tie to,” said Don, approvingly. “Bert and I have a pass that will see us through all right; but what are you going to do? Do you think you can make your way to the attic without being seen by any of the sentries42 or floor guards?”
“Tom and his crowd brought me out without attracting the attention of any of them, and I don’t see why I can’t get back without being caught. At any rate I shall try my best. Good-night. I hope that neither of you will ever stand in need of such aid as you have rendered me to-night; but if you do, you may count on me every time.”
So saying Sam moved away in one direction, closely examining all the pickets43 on the fence as he went, and Don and Bert walked off in the other. When the latter arrived within sight of the main gate they were somewhat surprised to see that it was closed. The sound of their footsteps 68on the frosty snow quickly attracted the attention of the alert sentry44, who came out of his box and demanded to know who they were and what they were doing there at that time of night.
“We belong to this academy,” replied Don, “and have a pass from the superintendent.”
“Corporal of the guard No. 4,” yelled the sentry; and the call was caught up and repeated by another sentinel who stood at the farther end of the academy, and finally reached the ears of the corporal, who was toasting his shins in front of a warm fire in the guard-room.
“What do you want the corporal for? Here’s our pass,” said Don; and taking the paper in question from his pocket he thrust it between the bars of the gate.
Still the sentry made no reply, nor did he seem to know that Don had spoken to him. He brought his musket45 to a “support,” and paced back and forth46 on the other side of the gate with slow and dignified47 steps. Don muttered something under his breath, and Bert believing that he was grumbling48 at the sentry for being so uncivil, laid his hand on his brother’s arm and said, in a low tone—
69“Don’t be angry with him. Perhaps he is not allowed to talk while he is on duty.”
Don said nothing. He began to believe that he and Bert had unwittingly got themselves into trouble again, and when the corporal came up, he found that he had not been mistaken.
“What’s the matter here?” demanded the officer.
“There are a couple of plebes out there who want to come in,” was the sentry’s reply.
“Who are you?” said the corporal, peering through the pickets at the two brothers.
Don gave him their names; whereupon the corporal took a key down from a nail in the sentry’s box, and after unlocking the gate told the boys to come in. They obeyed, and the officer having returned the key to its place drew a note-book from his pocket and wrote something in it. “That’s all right,” said he, as he closed the book and put it back in his pocket.
“Have we done anything wrong?” inquired Bert, in anxious tones.
“You will find that out to-morrow,” was the corporal’s very unsatisfactory answer.
“Why can’t you give a civil reply to a civil 70question?” demanded Don, impatiently. “We had liberty to go outside the grounds for the evening, and here’s the pass that says so.”
“I don’t want to see it,” said the corporal, as he buttoned his overcoat and drew the cape over his head. “I know just how it reads. Come on.”
“Where are you going to take us?” asked Bert, while visions of the gloomy guard-house danced before his eyes.
“To the officer of the day, of course.”
“And what will he do with us?”
“That’s for him to tell. Come on. It’s too cold to stand here any longer.”
Don and Bert fell in behind the corporal, who led the way to the guard-room, and ushered49 them into a little office where the officer of the day—a stern old Prussian soldier who wore a medal he had won by his gallantry on the field of battle while serving under Prince Frederick Charles—sat reading a newspaper. When the non-commissioned officer entered with his prisoners he laid the paper down and took off his spectacles.
“Vel, gorporal,” said he, in a pompous50 tone, “vat ish the drouble mit dem gadets?”
71“They have overstayed their time, sir,” said the corporal.
“Vot for you do dot?” demanded the officer of the day, turning fiercely upon the culprits. “Vot for you not come in, ha?”
“We were not aware that we had overstayed our time, sir,” answered Don. “If we had known that we were expected to return at a certain hour, we should have been here. We had a pass for the evening, and there it is.”
“Dot’s no good after daps,” said the officer of the day, turning away his head and waving his hand in the air to indicate that he did not care to look at the paper which Don presented for his inspection51.
“I assure you, sir, that it was a mistake on our part,” said Bert.
But the officer of the day declared, in his broken English and with many gesticulations, that such things as mistakes were not recognized in that academy—that Don and his brother had violated the regulations and might make up their minds to be punished accordingly. Then he ordered them to their quarters, while the corporal went back to his seat by the stove.
72“He didn’t say that we were in arrest, did he?” said Don, as he and Bert ascended52 the stairs, at the top of which they met the sentry who had charge of that floor, standing53 with his note-book in his hand.
“Your names, please,” said he, pleasantly.
“The corporal of the guard has them, and so has the officer of the day,” answered Don.
“And I must have them, too,” returned the sentry, holding his pencil poised54, in the air.
Don gave the required information in rather a sullen55 tone, and closed the door of his dormitory behind him with no gentle hand. As soon as Bert had struck a light he drew the pass from his pocket and read as follows:
“Guards and patrols will pass privates Donald and Hubert Gordon until half-past nine o’clock this evening.”
Then he looked at his watch and saw that it lacked only a quarter of eleven. Allowing fifteen minutes for their interviews with the corporal and the officer of the day, they had overstayed their time just an hour. Bert was very penitent56, but Don was inclined to be rebellious57.
点击收听单词发音
1 scattering | |
n.[物]散射;散乱,分散;在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的;分散在不同范围的;广泛扩散的;(选票)数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式);散布;驱散 | |
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2 bully | |
n.恃强欺弱者,小流氓;vt.威胁,欺侮 | |
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3 astounded | |
v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词);愕然;愕;惊讶 | |
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4 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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5 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 | |
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6 clinch | |
v.敲弯,钉牢;确定;扭住对方 [参]clench | |
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7 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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8 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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9 defiance | |
n.挑战,挑衅,蔑视,违抗 | |
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10 consultation | |
n.咨询;商量;商议;会议 | |
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11 expedients | |
n.应急有效的,权宜之计的( expedient的名词复数 ) | |
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12 guise | |
n.外表,伪装的姿态 | |
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13 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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14 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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15 hazing | |
n.受辱,被欺侮v.(使)笼罩在薄雾中( haze的现在分词 );戏弄,欺凌(新生等,有时作为加入美国大学生联谊会的条件) | |
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16 conspirators | |
n.共谋者,阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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17 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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18 plantation | |
n.种植园,大农场 | |
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19 prone | |
adj.(to)易于…的,很可能…的;俯卧的 | |
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20 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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21 wrestler | |
n.摔角选手,扭 | |
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22 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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23 livelihood | |
n.生计,谋生之道 | |
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24 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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25 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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26 unpaid | |
adj.未付款的,无报酬的 | |
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27 lodgings | |
n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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28 plank | |
n.板条,木板,政策要点,政纲条目 | |
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29 kit | |
n.用具包,成套工具;随身携带物 | |
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30 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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31 superintendent | |
n.监督人,主管,总监;(英国)警务长 | |
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32 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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33 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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34 despoiled | |
v.掠夺,抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35 adept | |
adj.老练的,精通的 | |
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36 pounced | |
v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 );猛扑;一眼看出;抓住机会(进行抨击) | |
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37 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
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38 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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39 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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40 grumble | |
vi.抱怨;咕哝;n.抱怨,牢骚;咕哝,隆隆声 | |
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41 attic | |
n.顶楼,屋顶室 | |
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42 sentries | |
哨兵,步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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43 pickets | |
罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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44 sentry | |
n.哨兵,警卫 | |
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45 musket | |
n.滑膛枪 | |
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46 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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47 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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48 grumbling | |
adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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49 ushered | |
v.引,领,陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50 pompous | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的;夸大的;豪华的 | |
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51 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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52 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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54 poised | |
a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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55 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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56 penitent | |
adj.后悔的;n.后悔者;忏悔者 | |
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57 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
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