He fussed over his hunting-kit3. He pulled his hip4 boots out to full length and examined them for holes. He feverishly5 counted his shotgun shells, lecturing her on the qualities of smokeless powder. He drew the new hammerless shotgun out of its heavy tan leather case and made her peep through the barrels to see how dazzlingly free they were from rust6.
The world of hunting and camping-outfits and fishing-tackle was unfamiliar7 to her, and in Kennicott’s interest she found something creative and joyous8. She examined the smooth stock, the carved hard rubber butt9 of the gun. The shells, with their brass10 caps and sleek11 green bodies and hieroglyphics12 on the wads, were cool and comfortably heavy in her hands.
Kennicott wore a brown canvas hunting-coat with vast pockets lining13 the inside, corduroy trousers which bulged14 at the wrinkles, peeled and scarred shoes, a scarecrow felt hat. In this uniform he felt virile15. They clumped16 out to the livery buggy, they packed the kit and the box of lunch into the back, crying to each other that it was a magnificent day.
Kennicott had borrowed Jackson Elder’s red and white English setter, a complacent18 dog with a waving tail of silver hair which flickered19 in the sunshine. As they started, the dog yelped20, and leaped at the horses’ heads, till Kennicott took him into the buggy, where he nuzzled Carol’s knees and leaned out to sneer21 at farm mongrels.
The grays clattered22 out on the hard dirt road with a pleasant song of hoofs23: “Ta ta ta rat! Ta ta ta rat!” It was early and fresh, the air whistling, frost bright on the golden rod. As the sun warmed the world of stubble into a welter of yellow they turned from the highroad, through the bars of a farmer’s gate, into a field, slowly bumping over the uneven24 earth. In a hollow of the rolling prairie they lost sight even of the country road. It was warm and placid25. Locusts27 trilled among the dry wheat-stalks, and brilliant little flies hurtled across the buggy. A buzz of content filled the air. Crows loitered and gossiped in the sky.
The dog had been let out and after a dance of excitement he settled down to a steady quartering of the field, forth28 and back, forth and back, his nose down.
“Pete Rustad owns this farm, and he told me he saw a small covey of chickens in the west forty, last week. Maybe we’ll get some sport after all,” Kennicott chuckled29 blissfully.
She watched the dog in suspense30, breathing quickly every time he seemed to halt. She had no desire to slaughter31 birds, but she did desire to belong to Kennicott’s world.
The dog stopped, on the point, a forepaw held up.
“By golly! He’s hit a scent32! Come on!” squealed33 Kennicott. He leaped from the buggy, twisted the reins34 about the whip-socket, swung her out, caught up his gun, slipped in two shells, stalked toward the rigid35 dog, Carol pattering after him. The setter crawled ahead, his tail quivering, his belly36 close to the stubble. Carol was nervous. She expected clouds of large birds to fly up instantly. Her eyes were strained with staring. But they followed the dog for a quarter of a mile, turning, doubling, crossing two low hills, kicking through a swale of weeds, crawling between the strands37 of a barbed- wire fence. The walking was hard on her pavement-trained feet. The earth was lumpy, the stubble prickly and lined with grass, thistles, abortive38 stumps39 of clover. She dragged and floundered.
She heard Kennicott gasp40, “Look!” Three gray birds were starting up from the stubble. They were round, dumpy, like enormous bumble bees. Kennicott was sighting, moving the barrel. She was agitated41. Why didn’t he fire? The birds would be gone! Then a crash, another, and two birds turned somersaults in the air, plumped down.
When he showed her the birds she had no sensation of blood. These heaps of feathers were so soft and unbruised — there was about them no hint of death. She watched her conquering man tuck them into his inside pocket, and trudged42 with him back to the buggy.
They found no more prairie chickens that morning.
At noon they drove into her first farmyard, a private village, a white house with no porches save a low and quite dirty stoop at the back, a crimson43 barn with white trimmings, a glazed45 brick silo, an ex-carriage-shed, now the garage of a Ford46, an unpainted cow-stable, a chicken-house, a pig-pen, a corn- crib, a granary, the galvanized-iron skeleton tower of a wind- mill. The dooryard was of packed yellow clay, treeless, barren of grass, littered with rusty47 plowshares and wheels of discarded cultivators. Hardened trampled48 mud, like lava49, filled the pig-pen. The doors of the house were grime-rubbed, the corners and eaves were rusted50 with rain, and the child who stared at them from the kitchen window was smeary-faced. But beyond the barn was a clump17 of scarlet51 geraniums; the prairie breeze was sunshine in motion; the flashing metal blades of the windmill revolved52 with a lively hum; a horse neighed, a rooster crowed, martins flew in and out of the cow-stable.
A small spare woman with flaxen hair trotted53 from the house. She was twanging a Swedish patois54 — not in monotone, like English, but singing it, with a lyrical whine55:
“Pete he say you kom pretty soon hunting, doctor. My, dot’s fine you kom. Is dis de bride? Ohhhh! Ve yoost say las’ night, ve hope maybe ve see her som day. My, soch a pretty lady!” Mrs. Rustad was shining with welcome. “Vell, vell! Ay hope you lak dis country! Von’t you stay for dinner, doctor?”
“No, but I wonder if you wouldn’t like to give us a glass of milk?” condescended56 Kennicott.
“Vell Ay should say Ay vill! You vait har a second and Ay run on de milk-house!” She nervously57 hastened to a tiny red building beside the windmill; she came back with a pitcher58 of milk from which Carol filled the thermos59 bottle.
As they drove off Carol admired, “She’s the dearest thing I ever saw. And she adores you. You are the Lord of the Manor60.”
“Oh no,” much pleased, “but still they do ask my advice about things. Bully61 people, these Scandinavian farmers. And prosperous, too. Helga Rustad, she’s still scared of America, but her kids will be doctors and lawyers and governors of the state and any darn thing they want to.”
“I wonder ——” Carol was plunged62 back into last night’s Weltschmerz. “I wonder if these farmers aren’t bigger than we are? So simple and hard-working. The town lives on them. We townies are parasites63, and yet we feel superior to them. Last night I heard Mr. Haydock talking about ‘hicks.’ Apparently64 he despises the farmers because they haven’t reached the social heights of selling thread and buttons.”
“Parasites? Us? Where’d the farmers be without the town? Who lends them money? Who — why, we supply them with everything!”
“Don’t you find that some of the farmers think they pay too much for the services of the towns?”
“Oh, of course there’s a lot of cranks among the farmers same as there are among any class. Listen to some of these kickers, a fellow’d think that the farmers ought to run the state and the whole shooting-match — probably if they had their way they’d fill up the legislature with a lot of farmers in manure-covered boots — yes, and they’d come tell me I was hired on a salary now, and couldn’t fix my fees! That’d be fine for you, wouldn’t it!”
“But why shouldn’t they?”
“Why? That bunch of —— Telling ME—— Oh, for heaven’s sake, let’s quit arguing. All this discussing may be all right at a party but —— Let’s forget it while we’re hunting.”
“I know. The Wonderlust — probably it’s a worse affliction than the Wanderlust. I just wonder ——”
She told herself that she had everything in the world. And after each self-rebuke she stumbled again on “I just wonder ——”
They ate their sandwiches by a prairie slew65: long grass reaching up out of clear water, mossy bogs66, red-winged black- birds, the scum a splash of gold-green. Kennicott smoked a pipe while she leaned back in the buggy and let her tired spirit be absorbed in the Nirvana of the incomparable sky.
They lurched to the highroad and awoke from their sun- soaked drowse at the sound of the clopping hoofs. They paused to look for partridges in a rim44 of woods, little woods, very clean and shiny and gay, silver birches and poplars with immaculate green trunks, encircling a lake of sandy bottom, a splashing seclusion67 demure68 in the welter of hot prairie.
Kennicott brought down a fat red squirrel and at dusk he had a dramatic shot at a flight of ducks whirling down from the upper air, skimming the lake, instantly vanishing.
They drove home under the sunset. Mounds69 of straw, and wheat-stacks like bee-hives, stood out in startling rose and gold, and the green-tufted stubble glistened70. As the vast girdle of crimson darkened, the fulfilled land became autumnal in deep reds and browns. The black road before the buggy turned to a faint lavender, then was blotted71 to uncertain grayness. Cattle came in a long line up to the barred gates of the farmyards, and over the resting land was a dark glow.
Carol had found the dignity and greatness which had failed her in Main Street.
II
Till they had a maid they took noon dinner and six o’clock supper at Mrs. Gurrey’s boarding-house.
Mrs. Elisha Gurrey, relict of Deacon Gurrey the dealer72 in hay and grain, was a pointed-nosed, simpering woman with iron-gray hair drawn73 so tight that it resembled a soiled handkerchief covering her head. But she was unexpectedly cheerful, and her dining-room, with its thin tablecloth74 on a long pine table, had the decency75 of clean bareness.
In the line of unsmiling, methodically chewing guests, like horses at a manger, Carol came to distinguish one countenance76: the pale, long, spectacled face and sandy pompadour hair of Mr. Raymond P. Wutherspoon, known as “Raymie,” professional bachelor, manager and one half the sales-force in the shoe-department of the Bon Ton Store.
“You will enjoy Gopher Prairie very much, Mrs. Kennicott,” petitioned Raymie. His eyes were like those of a dog waiting to be let in out of the cold. He passed the stewed77 apricots effusively78. “There are a great many bright cultured people here. Mrs. Wilks, the Christian79 Science reader, is a very bright woman — though I am not a Scientist myself, in fact I sing in the Episcopal choir80. And Miss Sherwin of the high school — she is such a pleasing, bright girl — I was fitting her to a pair of tan gaiters yesterday, I declare, it really was a pleasure.”
“Gimme the butter, Carrie,” was Kennicott’s comment. She defied him by encouraging Raymie:
“Do you have amateur dramatics and so on here?”
“Oh yes! The town’s just full of talent. The Knights81 of Pythias put on a dandy minstrel show last year.”
“It’s nice you’re so enthusiastic.”
“Oh, do you really think so? Lots of folks jolly me for trying to get up shows and so on. I tell them they have more artistic82 gifts than they know. Just yesterday I was saying to Harry83 Haydock: if he would read poetry, like Longfellow, or if he would join the band — I get so much pleasure out of playing the cornet, and our band-leader, Del Snafflin, is such a good musician, I often say he ought to give up his barbering and become a professional musician, he could play the clarinet in Minneapolis or New York or anywhere, but — but I couldn’t get Harry to see it at all and — I hear you and the doctor went out hunting yesterday. Lovely country, isn’t it. And did you make some calls? The mercantile life isn’t inspiring like medicine. It must be wonderful to see how patients trust you, doctor.”
“Huh. It’s me that’s got to do all the trusting. Be damn sight more wonderful ‘f they’d pay their bills,” grumbled84 Kennicott and, to Carol, he whispered something which sounded like “gentleman hen.”
But Raymie’s pale eyes were watering at her. She helped him with, “So you like to read poetry?”
“Oh yes, so much — though to tell the truth, I don’t get much time for reading, we’re always so busy at the store and —— But we had the dandiest professional reciter at the Pythian Sisters sociable85 last winter.”
Carol thought she heard a grunt86 from the traveling salesman at the end of the table, and Kennicott’s jerking elbow was a grunt embodied87. She persisted:
“Do you get to see many plays, Mr. Wutherspoon?”
He shone at her like a dim blue March moon, and sighed, “No, but I do love the movies. I’m a real fan. One trouble with books is that they’re not so thoroughly88 safeguarded by intelligent censors89 as the movies are, and when you drop into the library and take out a book you never know what you’re wasting your time on. What I like in books is a wholesome90, really improving story, and sometimes —— Why, once I started a novel by this fellow Balzac that you read about, and it told how a lady wasn’t living with her husband, I mean she wasn’t his wife. It went into details, disgustingly! And the English was real poor. I spoke91 to the library about it, and they took it off the shelves. I’m not narrow, but I must say I don’t see any use in this deliberately92 dragging in immorality93! Life itself is so full of temptations that in literature one wants only that which is pure and uplifting.”
“What’s the name of that Balzac yarn94? Where can I get hold of it?” giggled95 the traveling salesman.
Raymie ignored him. “But the movies, they are mostly clean, and their humor —— Don’t you think that the most essential quality for a person to have is a sense of humor?”
“I don’t know. I really haven’t much,” said Carol.
He shook his finger at her. “Now, now, you’re too modest. I’m sure we can all see that you have a perfectly96 corking97 sense of humor. Besides, Dr. Kennicott wouldn’t marry a lady that didn’t have. We all know how he loves his fun!”
“You bet. I’m a jokey old bird. Come on, Carrie; let’s beat it,” remarked Kennicott.
Raymie implored98, “And what is your chief artistic interest, Mrs. Kennicott?”
“Oh ——” Aware that the traveling salesman had murmured, “Dentistry,” she desperately100 hazarded, “Architecture.”
“That’s a real nice art. I’ve always said — when Haydock & Simons were finishing the new front on the Bon Ton building, the old man came to me, you know, Harry’s father, ‘D. H.,’ I always call him, and he asked me how I liked it, and I said to him, ‘Look here, D. H.,’ I said — you see, he was going to leave the front plain, and I said to him, ‘It’s all very well to have modern lighting101 and a big display-space,’ I said, ‘but when you get that in, you want to have some architecture, too,’ I said, and he laughed and said he guessed maybe I was right, and so he had ’em put on a cornice.”
“Tin!” observed the traveling salesman.
Raymie bared his teeth like a belligerent102 mouse. “Well, what if it is tin? That’s not my fault. I told D. H. to make it polished granite103. You make me tired!”
“Leave us go! Come on, Carrie, leave us go!” from Kennicott.
Raymie waylaid104 them in the hall and secretly informed Carol that she musn’t mind the traveling salesman’s coarseness — he belonged to the hwa pollwa.
Kennicott chuckled, “Well, child, how about it? Do you prefer an artistic guy like Raymie to stupid boobs like Sam Clark and me?”
“My dear! Let’s go home, and play pinochle, and laugh, and be foolish, and slip up to bed, and sleep without dreaming. It’s beautiful to be just a solid citizeness!”
III
From the Gopher Prairie Weekly Dauntless:
One of the most charming affairs of the season was held Tuesday evening at the handsome new residence of Sam and Mrs. Clark when many of our most prominent citizens gathered to greet the lovely new bride of our popular local physician, Dr. Will Kennicott. All present spoke of the many charms of the bride, formerly105 Miss Carol Milford of St. Paul. Games and stunts106 were the order of the day, with merry talk and conversation. At a late hour dainty refreshments107 were served, and the party broke up with many expressions of pleasure at the pleasant affair. Among those present were Mesdames Kennicott, Elder ——
. . .
Dr. Will Kennicott, for the past several years one of our most popular and skilful108 physicians and surgeons, gave the town a delightful109 surprise when he returned from an extended honeymoon110 tour in Colorado this week with his charming bride. nee Miss Carol Milford of St. Paul, whose family are socially prominent in Minneapolis and Mankato. Mrs. Kennicott is a lady of manifold charms, not only of striking charm of appearance but is also a distinguished111 graduate of a school in the East and has for the past year been prominently connected in an important position of responsibility with the St. Paul Public Library, in which city Dr. “Will” had the good fortune to meet her. The city of Gopher Prairie welcomes her to our midst and prophesies112 for her many happy years m the energetic city of the twin lakes and the future. The Dr. and Mrs. Kennicott will reside for the present at the Doctor’s home on Poplar Street which his charming mother has been keeping for him who has now returned to her own home at Lac-qui-Meurt leaving a host of friends who regret her absence and hope to see her soon with us again.
IV
She knew that if she was ever to effect any of the “reforms” which she had pictured, she must have a starting-place. What confused her during the three or four months after her marriage was not lack of perception that she must be definite, but sheer careless happiness of her first home.
In the pride of being a housewife she loved every detail — the brocade armchair with the weak back, even the brass water- cock on the hot-water reservoir, when she had become familiar with it by trying to scour113 it to brilliance114.
She found a maid — plump radiant Bea Sorenson from Scandia Crossing. Bea was droll115 in her attempt to be at once a respectful servant and a bosom116 friend. They laughed together over the fact that the stove did not draw, over the slipperiness of fish in the pan.
Like a child playing Grandma in a trailing skirt, Carol paraded uptown for her marketing117, crying greetings to housewives along the way. Everybody bowed to her, strangers and all, and made her feel that they wanted her, that she belonged here. In city shops she was merely A Customer — a hat, a voice to bore a harassed118 clerk. Here she was Mrs. Doc Kennicott, and her preferences in grape-fruit and manners were known and remembered and worth discussing. . . . even if they weren’t worth fulfilling.
Shopping was a delight of brisk conferences. The very merchants whose droning she found the dullest at the two or three parties which were given to welcome her were the pleasantest confidants of all when they had something to talk about — lemons or cotton voile or floor-oil. With that skip-jack Dave Dyer, the druggist, she conducted a long mock-quarrel. She pretended that he cheated her in the price of magazines and candy; he pretended she was a detective from the Twin Cities. He hid behind the prescription-counter, and when she stamped her foot he came out wailing119, “Honest, I haven’t done nothing crooked120 today — not yet.”
She never recalled her first impression of Main Street; never had precisely121 the same despair at its ugliness. By the end of two shopping-tours everything had changed proportions. As she never entered it, the Minniemashie House ceased to exist for her. Clark’s Hardware Store, Dyer’s Drug Store, the groceries of Ole Jenson and Frederick Ludelmeyer and Howland & Gould, the meat markets, the notions shop — they expanded, and hid all other structures. When she entered Mr. Ludelmeyer’s store and he wheezed122, “Goot mornin’, Mrs. Kennicott. Vell, dis iss a fine day,” she did not notice the dustiness of the shelves nor the stupidity of the girl clerk; and she did not remember the mute colloquy123 with him on her first view of Main Street.
She could not find half the kinds of food she wanted, but that made shopping more of an adventure. When she did contrive124 to get sweetbreads at Dahl & Oleson’s Meat Market the triumph was so vast that she buzzed with excitement and admired the strong wise butcher, Mr. Dahl.
She appreciated the homely125 ease of village life. She liked the old men, farmers, G.A.R. veterans, who when they gossiped sometimes squatted126 on their heels on the sidewalk, like resting Indians, and reflectively spat127 over the curb128.
She found beauty in the children.
She had suspected that her married friends exaggerated their passion for children. But in her work in the library, children had become individuals to her, citizens of the State with their own rights and their own senses of humor. In the library she had not had much time to give them, but now she knew the luxury of stopping, gravely asking Bessie Clark whether her doll had yet recovered from its rheumatism129, and agreeing with Oscar Martinsen that it would be Good Fun to go trapping “mushrats.”
She touched the thought, “It would be sweet to have a baby of my own. I do want one. Tiny —— No! Not yet! There’s so much to do. And I’m still tired from the job. It’s in my bones.”
She rested at home. She listened to the village noises common to all the world, jungle or prairie; sounds simple and charged with magic — dogs barking, chickens making a gurgling sound of content, children at play, a man beating a rug wind in the cottonwood trees, a locust26 fiddling130, a footstep on the walk, jaunty131 voices of Bea and a grocer’s boy in the kitchen, a clinking anvil132, a piano — not too near.
Twice a week, at least, she drove into the country with Kennicott, to hunt ducks in lakes enameled133 with sunset, or to call on patients who looked up to her as the squire’s lady and thanked her for toys and magazines. Evenings she went with her husband to the motion pictures and was boisterously134 greeted by every other couple; or, till it became too cold, they sat on the porch, bawling135 to passers-by in motors, or to neighbors who were raking the leaves. The dust became golden in the low sun; the street was filled with the fragrance136 of burning leaves.
V
But she hazily137 wanted some one to whom she could say what she thought.
On a slow afternoon when she fidgeted over sewing and wished that the telephone would ring, Bea announced Miss Vida Sherwin.
Despite Vida Sherwin’s lively blue eyes, if you had looked at her in detail you would have found her face slightly lined, and not so much sallow as with the bloom rubbed off; you would have found her chest flat, and her fingers rough from needle and chalk and penholder; her blouses and plain cloth skirts undistinguished; and her hat worn too far back, betraying a dry forehead. But you never did look at Vida Sherwin in detail. You couldn’t. Her electric activity veiled her. She was as energetic as a chipmunk138. Her fingers fluttered; her sympathy came out in spurts139; she sat on the edge of a chair in eagerness to be near her auditor140, to send her enthusiasms and optimism across.
She rushed into the room pouring out: “I’m afraid you’ll think the teachers have been shabby in not coming near you, but we wanted to give you a chance to get settled. I am Vida Sherwin, and I try to teach French and English and a few other things in the high school.”
“I’ve been hoping to know the teachers. You see, I was a librarian ——”
“Oh, you needn’t tell me. I know all about you! Awful how much I know — this gossipy village. We need you so much here. It’s a dear loyal town (and isn’t loyalty141 the finest thing in the world!) but it’s a rough diamond, and we need you for the polishing, and we’re ever so humble142 ——” She stopped for breath and finished her compliment with a smile.
“If I COULD help you in any way —— Would I be committing the unpardonable sin if I whispered that I think Gopher Prairie is a tiny bit ugly?”
“Of course it’s ugly. Dreadfully! Though I’m probably the only person in town to whom you could safely say that. (Except perhaps Guy Pollock the lawyer — have you met him? — oh, you MUST! — he’s simply a darling — intelligence and culture and so gentle.) But I don’t care so much about the ugliness. That will change. It’s the spirit that gives me hope. It’s sound. Wholesome. But afraid. It needs live creatures like you to awaken143 it. I shall slave-drive you!”
“Splendid. What shall I do? I’ve been wondering if it would be possible to have a good architect come here to lecture.”
“Ye-es, but don’t you think it would be better to work with existing agencies? Perhaps it will sound slow to you, but I was thinking —— It would be lovely if we could get you to teach Sunday School.”
Carol had the empty expression of one who finds that she has been affectionately bowing to a complete stranger. “Oh yes. But I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much good at that. My religion is so foggy.”
“I know. So is mine. I don’t care a bit for dogma. Though I do stick firmly to the belief in the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood144 of man and the leadership of Jesus. As you do, of course.”
Carol looked respectable and thought about having tea.
“And that’s all you need teach in Sunday School. It’s the personal influence. Then there’s the library-board. You’d be so useful on that. And of course there’s our women’s study club — the Thanatopsis Club.”
“Are they doing anything? Or do they read papers made out of the Encyclopedia145?”
Miss Sherwin shrugged146. “Perhaps. But still, they are so earnest. They will respond to your fresher interest. And the Thanatopsis does do a good social work — they’ve made the city plant ever so many trees, and they run the rest-room for farmers’ wives. And they do take such an interest in refinement147 and culture. So — in fact, so very unique.”
Carol was disappointed — by nothing very tangible148. She said politely, “I’ll think them all over. I must have a while to look around first.”
Miss Sherwin darted149 to her, smoothed her hair, peered at her. “Oh, my dear, don’t you suppose I know? These first tender days of marriage — they’re sacred to me. Home, and children that need you, and depend on you to keep them alive, and turn to you with their wrinkly little smiles. And the hearth150 and ——” She hid her face from Carol as she made an activity of patting the cushion of her chair, but she went on with her former briskness151:
“I mean, you must help us when you’re ready. . . . I’m afraid you’ll think I’m conservative. I am! So much to conserve152. All this treasure of American ideals. Sturdiness and democracy and opportunity. Maybe not at Palm Beach. But, thank heaven, we’re free from such social distinctions in Gopher Prairie. I have only one good quality — overwhelming belief in the brains and hearts of our nation, our state, our town. It’s so strong that sometimes I do have a tiny effect on the haughty153 ten-thousandaires. I shake ’em up and make ’em believe in ideals — yes, in themselves. But I get into a rut of teaching. I need young critical things like you to punch me up. Tell me, what are you reading?”
“I’ve been re-reading ‘The Damnation of Theron Ware99.’ Do you know it?”
“Yes. It was clever. But hard. Man wanted to tear down, not build up. Cynical154. Oh, I do hope I’m not a sentimentalist. But I can’t see any use in this high-art stuff that doesn’t encourage us day-laborers to plod155 on.”
Ensued a fifteen-minute argument about the oldest topic in the world: It’s art but is it pretty? Carol tried to be eloquent156 regarding honesty of observation. Miss Sherwin stood out for sweetness and a cautious use of the uncomfortable properties of light. At the end Carol cried:
“I don’t care how much we disagree. It’s a relief to have somebody talk something besides crops. Let’s make Gopher Prairie rock to its foundations: let’s have afternoon tea instead of afternoon coffee.”
The delighted Bea helped her bring out the ancestral folding sewing-table, whose yellow and black top was scarred with dotted lines from a dressmaker’s tracing-wheel, and to set it with an embroidered157 lunch-cloth, and the mauve-glazed Japanese tea-set which she had brought from St. Paul. Miss Sherwin confided158 her latest scheme — moral motion pictures for country districts, with light from a portable dynamo hitched159 to a Ford engine. Bea was twice called to fill the hot-water pitcher and to make cinnamon toast.
When Kennicott came home at five he tried to be courtly, as befits the husband of one who has afternoon tea. Carol suggested that Miss Sherwin stay for supper, and that Kennicott invite Guy Pollock, the much-praised lawyer, the poetic160 bachelor.
Yes, Pollock could come. Yes, he was over the grippe which had prevented his going to Sam Clark’s party.
Carol regretted her impulse. The man would be an opinionated politician, heavily jocular about The Bride. But at the entrance of Guy Pollock she discovered a personality. Pollock was a man of perhaps thirty-eight, slender, still, deferential161. His voice was low. “It was very good of you to want me,” he said, and he offered no humorous remarks, and did not ask her if she didn’t think Gopher Prairie was “the livest little burg in the state.”
She fancied that his even grayness might reveal a thousand tints162 of lavender and blue and silver.
At supper he hinted his love for Sir Thomas Browne, Thoreau, Agnes Repplier, Arthur Symons, Claude Washburn, Charles Flandrau. He presented his idols163 diffidently, but he expanded in Carol’s bookishness, in Miss Sherwin’s voluminous praise, in Kennicott’s tolerance164 of any one who amused his wife.
Carol wondered why Guy Pollock went on digging at routine law-cases; why he remained in Gopher Prairie. She had no one whom she could ask. Neither Kennicott nor Vida Sherwin would understand that there might be reasons why a Pollock should not remain in Gopher Prairie. She enjoyed the faint mystery. She felt triumphant165 and rather literary. She already had a Group. It would be only a while now before she provided the town with fanlights and a knowledge of Galsworthy. She was doing things! As she served the emergency dessert of cocoanut and sliced oranges, she cried to Pollock, “Don’t you think we ought to get up a dramatic club?”
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1 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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2 piston | |
n.活塞 | |
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3 kit | |
n.用具包,成套工具;随身携带物 | |
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4 hip | |
n.臀部,髋;屋脊 | |
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5 feverishly | |
adv. 兴奋地 | |
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6 rust | |
n.锈;v.生锈;(脑子)衰退 | |
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7 unfamiliar | |
adj.陌生的,不熟悉的 | |
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8 joyous | |
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10 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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11 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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12 hieroglyphics | |
n.pl.象形文字 | |
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13 lining | |
n.衬里,衬料 | |
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14 bulged | |
凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 ); 充满; 塞满(某物) | |
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15 virile | |
adj.男性的;有男性生殖力的;有男子气概的;强有力的 | |
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16 clumped | |
adj.[医]成群的v.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的过去式和过去分词 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声 | |
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17 clump | |
n.树丛,草丛;vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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18 complacent | |
adj.自满的;自鸣得意的 | |
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19 flickered | |
(通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20 yelped | |
v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21 sneer | |
v.轻蔑;嘲笑;n.嘲笑,讥讽的言语 | |
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22 clattered | |
发出咔哒声(clatter的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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23 hoofs | |
n.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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24 uneven | |
adj.不平坦的,不规则的,不均匀的 | |
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25 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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26 locust | |
n.蝗虫;洋槐,刺槐 | |
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27 locusts | |
n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 );贪吃的人;破坏者;槐树 | |
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28 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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29 chuckled | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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31 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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32 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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33 squealed | |
v.长声尖叫,用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34 reins | |
感情,激情; 缰( rein的名词复数 ); 控制手段; 掌管; (成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的)保护带 | |
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35 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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36 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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37 strands | |
n.(线、绳、金属线、毛发等的)股( strand的名词复数 );缕;海洋、湖或河的)岸;(观点、计划、故事等的)部份v.使滞留,使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38 abortive | |
adj.不成功的,发育不全的 | |
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39 stumps | |
(被砍下的树的)树桩( stump的名词复数 ); 残肢; (板球三柱门的)柱; 残余部分 | |
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40 gasp | |
n.喘息,气喘;v.喘息;气吁吁他说 | |
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41 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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42 trudged | |
vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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43 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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44 rim | |
n.(圆物的)边,轮缘;边界 | |
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45 glazed | |
adj.光滑的,像玻璃的;上过釉的;呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式);上釉于,上光;(目光)变得呆滞无神 | |
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46 Ford | |
n.浅滩,水浅可涉处;v.涉水,涉过 | |
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47 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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48 trampled | |
踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯 | |
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49 lava | |
n.熔岩,火山岩 | |
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50 rusted | |
v.(使)生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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52 revolved | |
v.(使)旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 );细想 | |
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53 trotted | |
小跑,急走( trot的过去分词 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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54 patois | |
n.方言;混合语 | |
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55 whine | |
v.哀号,号哭;n.哀鸣 | |
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56 condescended | |
屈尊,俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 ); 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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57 nervously | |
adv.神情激动地,不安地 | |
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58 pitcher | |
n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐;(棒球)投手 | |
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59 thermos | |
n.保湿瓶,热水瓶 | |
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60 manor | |
n.庄园,领地 | |
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61 bully | |
n.恃强欺弱者,小流氓;vt.威胁,欺侮 | |
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62 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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63 parasites | |
寄生物( parasite的名词复数 ); 靠他人为生的人; 诸虫 | |
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64 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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65 slew | |
v.(使)旋转;n.大量,许多 | |
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66 bogs | |
n.沼泽,泥塘( bog的名词复数 );厕所v.(使)陷入泥沼, (使)陷入困境( bog的第三人称单数 );妨碍,阻碍 | |
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67 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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68 demure | |
adj.严肃的;端庄的 | |
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69 mounds | |
土堆,土丘( mound的名词复数 ); 一大堆 | |
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70 glistened | |
v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71 blotted | |
涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
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72 dealer | |
n.商人,贩子 | |
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73 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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74 tablecloth | |
n.桌布,台布 | |
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75 decency | |
n.体面,得体,合宜,正派,庄重 | |
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76 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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77 stewed | |
adj.焦虑不安的,烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 );煨;思考;担忧 | |
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78 effusively | |
adv.变溢地,热情洋溢地 | |
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79 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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80 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
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81 knights | |
骑士; (中古时代的)武士( knight的名词复数 ); 骑士; 爵士; (国际象棋中)马 | |
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82 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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83 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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84 grumbled | |
抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 ); 发牢骚; 咕哝; 发哼声 | |
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85 sociable | |
adj.好交际的,友好的,合群的 | |
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86 grunt | |
v.嘟哝;作呼噜声;n.呼噜声,嘟哝 | |
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87 embodied | |
v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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88 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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89 censors | |
删剪(书籍、电影等中被认为犯忌、违反道德或政治上危险的内容)( censor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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90 wholesome | |
adj.适合;卫生的;有益健康的;显示身心健康的 | |
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91 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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92 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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93 immorality | |
n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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94 yarn | |
n.纱,纱线,纺线;奇闻漫谈,旅行轶事 | |
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95 giggled | |
v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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97 corking | |
adj.很好的adv.非常地v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的现在分词 ) | |
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98 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99 ware | |
n.(常用复数)商品,货物 | |
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100 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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101 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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102 belligerent | |
adj.好战的,挑起战争的;n.交战国,交战者 | |
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103 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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104 waylaid | |
v.拦截,拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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106 stunts | |
n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 );(广告中)引人注目的花招;愚蠢行为;危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长],抑制,妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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107 refreshments | |
n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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108 skilful | |
(=skillful)adj.灵巧的,熟练的 | |
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109 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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110 honeymoon | |
n.蜜月(假期);vi.度蜜月 | |
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111 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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112 prophesies | |
v.预告,预言( prophesy的第三人称单数 ) | |
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113 scour | |
v.搜索;擦,洗,腹泻,冲刷 | |
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114 brilliance | |
n.光辉,辉煌,壮丽,(卓越的)才华,才智 | |
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115 droll | |
adj.古怪的,好笑的 | |
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116 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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117 marketing | |
n.行销,在市场的买卖,买东西 | |
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118 harassed | |
adj. 疲倦的,厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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119 wailing | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
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120 crooked | |
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
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121 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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122 wheezed | |
v.喘息,发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123 colloquy | |
n.谈话,自由讨论 | |
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124 contrive | |
vt.谋划,策划;设法做到;设计,想出 | |
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125 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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126 squatted | |
v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 );非法擅自占用(土地或房屋);为获得其所有权;而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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127 spat | |
n.口角,掌击;v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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128 curb | |
n.场外证券市场,场外交易;vt.制止,抑制 | |
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129 rheumatism | |
n.风湿病 | |
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130 fiddling | |
微小的 | |
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131 jaunty | |
adj.愉快的,满足的;adv.心满意足地,洋洋得意地;n.心满意足;洋洋得意 | |
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132 anvil | |
n.铁钻 | |
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133 enameled | |
涂瓷釉于,给…上瓷漆,给…上彩饰( enamel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134 boisterously | |
adv.喧闹地,吵闹地 | |
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135 bawling | |
v.大叫,大喊( bawl的现在分词 );放声大哭;大声叫出;叫卖(货物) | |
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136 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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137 hazily | |
ad. vaguely, not clear | |
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138 chipmunk | |
n.花栗鼠 | |
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139 spurts | |
短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 ); 突然奋起 | |
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140 auditor | |
n.审计员,旁听着 | |
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141 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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142 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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143 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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144 brotherhood | |
n.兄弟般的关系,手中情谊 | |
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145 encyclopedia | |
n.百科全书 | |
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146 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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147 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
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148 tangible | |
adj.有形的,可触摸的,确凿的,实际的 | |
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149 darted | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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150 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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151 briskness | |
n.敏捷,活泼 | |
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152 conserve | |
vt.保存,保护,节约,节省,守恒,不灭 | |
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153 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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154 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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155 plod | |
v.沉重缓慢地走,孜孜地工作 | |
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156 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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157 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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158 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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159 hitched | |
(免费)搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 ); 搭便车; 攀上; 跃上 | |
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160 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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161 deferential | |
adj. 敬意的,恭敬的 | |
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162 tints | |
色彩( tint的名词复数 ); 带白的颜色; (淡色)染发剂; 痕迹 | |
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163 idols | |
偶像( idol的名词复数 ); 受崇拜的人或物; 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物; 神像 | |
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164 tolerance | |
n.宽容;容忍,忍受;耐药力;公差 | |
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165 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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