‘I’m worse than a beggar,’ replied Sidney. ‘Housebreaking’s more in my line.’
And he attempted to force an entrance. Bessie struggled, but had to give in, overcome with laughter. Samuel was enjoying a pipe in the front kitchen; in spite of the dignity of keeping a servant (to whom the back kitchen was sacred), Mr. and Mrs. Byass frequently spent their evenings below stairs in the same manner as of old.
The talk began with Sidney’s immediate11 difficulties.
‘Now if it had only happened half a year ago,’ said Bessie, ‘I should have got you into our first-floor rooms.’
‘Shouldn’t wonder if we have him there yet, some day,’ remarked Sam, winking12 at his wife.
‘Not him,’ was Bessie’s rejoinder, with a meaning smile. ‘He’s a cool hand, is Mr. Kirkwood. He knows how to wait. When something happens, we shall have him taking a house out at Highbury, you see if he don’t.’
Sidney turned upon her with anything but a jesting look.
‘What do you mean by that, Mrs. Byass?’ he asked, sharply. ‘When what happens? What are you hinting at?’
‘Bless us and save us!’ cried Bessie. ‘Here, Sam, he’s going to swallow me. What harm have I done?’
‘Please tell me what you meant?’ Sidney urged, his face expressing strong annoyance13. ‘Why do you call me a “cool hand,” and say that “I know how to wait”? What did you mean? I’m serious; I want you to explain.’
Whilst he was speaking there came a knock at the kitchen door. Bessie cried, ‘Come in,’ and Jane showed herself; she glanced in a startled way at Sidney, murmured a ‘good-evening’ to him, and made a request of Bessie for some trifle she needed. Sidney, after just looking round, kept his seat and paid no further attention to Jane, who speedily retired14.
Silence followed, and in the midst of it Kirkwood pushed his chair impatiently.
‘Bess,’ cried Samuel, with an affected15 jocoseness16, ‘you’re called upon to apologise. Don’t make a fool of yourself again.’
‘I don’t see why he need be so snappish with me,’ replied his wife. ‘I beg his pardon, if he wants me.’
But Sidney was laughing now, though not in a very natural way. He put an end to the incident, and led off into talk of quite a different kind. When supper-time was at hand he declared that it was impossible for him to stay. The hour had been anything but a lively one, and when he was gone his friends discussed at length this novel display of ill-humour on Sidney’s part.
He went home muttering to himself, and passed as bad a night as he had ever known. Two days later his removal to new lodgings was effected; notwithstanding his desire to get into a cleaner region, he had taken a room at the top of a house in Red Lion Street, in the densest18 part of Clerkenwell, where his neighbours under the same roof were craftsmen19, carrying on their business at home.
‘It’ll do well enough just for a time,’ he said to himself. ‘Who can say when I shall be really settled again, or whether I ever shall?’
Midway in an attempt to put his things in order, to nail his pictures on the walls and ring forth20 his books again, he was seized with such utter discouragement that he let a volume drop from his hand and threw himself into a seat. A moan escaped his lips —‘That cursed money!’
Ever since the disclosure made to him by Michael Snowdon at Danbury he had been sensible of a grave uneasiness respecting his relations with Jane. At the moment he might imagine himself to share the old man’s enthusiasm, or dream, or craze — whichever name were the most appropriate — but not an hour had passed before he began to lament21 that such a romance as this should envelop22 the life which had so linked itself with his own. Immediately there arose in him a struggle between the idealist tendency, of which he had his share, and stubborn everyday sense, supported by his knowledge of the world and of his own being — a struggle to continue for months, thwarting23 the natural current of his life, racking his intellect, embittering24 his heart’s truest emotions. Conscious of mystery in Snowdon’s affairs, he had never dreamed of such a solution as this; the probability was — so he had thought — that Michael received an annuity25 under the will of his son who died in Australia. No word of the old man’s had ever hinted at wealth in his possession; the complaints he frequently made of the ill use to which wealthy people put their means seemed to imply a regret that he, with his purer purposes, had no power of doing anything. There was no explaining the manner of Jane’s bringing-up if it were not necessary that she should be able to support herself; the idea on which Michael acted was not such as would suggest itself, even to Sidney’s mind. Deliberately26 to withhold27 education from a girl who was to inherit any property worth speaking of would be acting28 with such boldness of originality29 that Sidney could not seriously have attributed it to his friend. In fact, he did not know Michael until the revelation was made; the depths of the man’s character escaped him.
The struggle went all against idealism. It was a noble vision, that of Michael’s, but too certainly Jane Snowdon was not the person to make it a reality; the fearful danger was, that all the possibilities of her life might be sacrificed to a vain conscientiousness30. Her character was full of purity and sweetness and self-forgetful warmth, but it had not the strength necessary for the carrying out of a purpose beset31 with difficulties and perils32. Michael, it was true, appeared to be aware of this; it did not, however, gravely disturb him, and for the simple reason that not to Jane alone did he look for the completion of his design; destiny had brought him aid such as he could never have anticipated; Jane’s helpmate was at hand, in whom his trust was unbounded.
What was in his way, that Sidney should not accept the responsibility? Conscience from the first whispered against his doing so, and the whisper was grown to so loud a voice that not an adverse33 argument could get effective hearing. Temptations lurked34 for him and sprang out in moments of his weakness, but as temptations they were at once recognised. ‘He had gone too far to retire; he would be guilty of sheer treachery to Jane; he would break the old man’s heart.’ All which meant merely that he loved the girl, and that it would be like death to part from her. But why part? What had conscience got hold of, that it made all this clamour? Oh, it was simple enough; Sidney not only had no faith in the practicability of such a life’s work as Michael visioned, but he had the profoundest distrust of his own moral strength if he should allow himself to be committed to lifelong renunciation. ‘I am no hero,’ he said, ‘no enthusiast36. The time when my whole being could be stirred by social questions has gone by. I am a man in love, and in proportion as my love has strengthened, so has my old artistself revived in me, until now I can imagine no bliss37 so perfect as to marry Jane Snowdon and go off to live with her amid fields and trees, where no echo of the suffering world should ever reach us.’ To confess this was to make it terribly certain that sooner or later the burden of conscientiousness would become intolerable. Not from Jane would support come in that event; she, poor child I would fall into miserable38 perplexity, in conflict between love and duty, and her life would be rained.
Of course a man might have said, ‘What matter how things arrange themselves when Michael is past knowledge of them? I will marry the woman I honestly desire, and together we will carry out this humanitarian39 project so long as it be possible. When it ceases to be so, well —.’ But Sidney could not take that view. It shamed him beyond endurance to think that he must ever avoid Jane’s look, because he had proved himself dishonest, and, what were worse, had tempted10 her to become so.
The conflict between desire and scruple40 made every day a weariness. Instead of looking forward eagerly to the evening in the week which he spent with Michael and Jane, he dreaded41 its approach. Scarcely had he met Jane’s look since this trouble began; he knew that her voice when she spoke42 to him expressed consciousness of something new in their relations, and even whilst continuing to act his part he suffered ceaselessly. Had Michael ever repeated to his granddaughter the confession43 which Sidney would now have given anything to recall? It was more than possible. Of Jane’s feeling Sidney could not entertain a serious doubt, and he knew that for a long time he had done his best to encourage it. It was unpardonable to draw aloof44 from her just because these circumstances had declared themselves, circumstances which brought perplexity into her life and doubtless made her long for another kind of support than Michael could afford her. The old man himself appeared to be waiting anxiously; he had fallen back into his habit of long silences, and often regarded Sidney in a way which the latter only too well understood.
He tried to help himself through the time of indecision by saying that there was no hurry. Jane was very young, and with the new order of things her life had in truth only just begun. She must have a space to look about her; all the better if she could form various acquaintances. On that account he urged so strongly that she should be brought into relation with Miss Lant, and, if possible, with certain of Miss Lant’s friends. All very well, had not the reasoning been utterly45 insincere. It might have applied46 to another person; in Jane’s case it was mere35 sophistry47. Her nature was home-keeping; to force her into alliance with conscious philanthropists was to set her in the falsest position conceivable; striving to mould herself to the desires of those she loved, she would suffer patiently and in secret mourn for the time when she had been obscure and happy. These things Sidney knew with a certainty only less than that wherewith he judged his own sensations; between Jane and himself the sympathy was perfect. And in despite of scruple he would before long have obeyed the natural impulse of his heart, had it not been that still graver complications declared themselves, and by exasperating48 his over-sensitive pride made him reckless of the pain he gave to others so long as his own self-torture was made sufficiently49 acute.
With Joseph Snowdon he was doing his best to be on genial50 terms, but the task was a hard one. The more he saw of Joseph, the less he liked him. Of late the filter manufacturer had begun to strike notes in his conversation which jarred on Sidney’s sensibilities, and made him disagreeably suspicious that something more was meant than Joseph cared to put into plain speech. Since his establishment in business Joseph had become remarkably51 attentive52 to his father; he appeared to enter with much zeal53 into all that concerned Jane; he conversed54 privately55 with the old man for a couple of hours at a time, and these dialogues, for some reason or other, he made a point of reporting to Sidney. According to these reports — and Sidney did not wholly discredit56 them — Michael was coming to have a far better opinion of his son than formerly57, was even disposed to speak with him gravely of his dearest interests.
‘We talked no end about you, Sidney, last night,’ said Joseph on one occasion, with the smile, whereby he meant to express the last degree of friendly intelligence.
And Sidney, though anxiously desiring to know the gist58 of the conversation, in this instance was not gratified. He could not bring himself to put questions, and went away in a mood of vague annoyance which Joseph had the especial power of exciting.
With the Byasses, Joseph was forming an intimacy59; of this too Sidney became aware, and it irritated him. The exact source of this irritation60 he did not at first recognise, but it was disclosed at length unmistakably enough, and that on the occasion of the visit recently described. Bessie’s pleasantry, which roused him in so unwonted a manner, could bear, of course, but one meaning; as soon as he heard it, Sidney saw as in a flash that one remaining aspect of his position which had not as yet attracted his concern. The Byasses had learnt, or had been put in the way of surmising61, that Michael Snowdon was wealthy; instantly they passed to the reflection that in marrying Jane their old acquaintance would be doing an excellent stroke of business. They were coarse-minded, and Bessie could even venture to jest with him on this detestable view of his projects. But was it not very likely that they derived62 their information from Joseph Snowdon? And if so, was it not all but certain that Joseph had suggested to them this way of regarding Sidney himself?
So when Jane’s face appeared at the door he held himself in stubborn disregard of her. A thing impossible to him, he would have said a few minutes ago. He revenged himself upon Jane. Good; in this way he was likely to make noble advances.
The next evening he was due at the Snowdons’, and for the very first time he voluntarily kept away. He posted a note to say that the business of his removal had made him irregular; he would come next week, when things were settled once more.
Thus it came to pass that he sat wretchedly in his unfamiliar63 room and groaned64 about ‘that accursed money.’ His only relief was in bursts of anger. Why had he not the courage to go to Michael and say plainly what he thought? ‘You have formed a wild scheme, the project of a fanatic65. Its realisation would be a miracle, and in your heart you must know that Jane’s character contains no miraculous66 possibilities. You are playing with people’s lives, as fanatics67 always do. For Heaven’s sake, bestow68 your money on the practical folks who make a solid business of relieving distress69! Jane, I know, will bless you for making her as poor as ever. Things are going on about you which you do not suspect. Your son is plotting, plotting; I can see it. This money will be the cause of endless suffering to those you really love, and will never be of as much benefit to the unknown as if practical people dealt with it. Jane is a simple girl, of infinite goodness; what possesses you that you want to make her an impossible sort of social saint?’ Too hard to speak thus frankly70. Michael had no longer the mental pliancy71 of even six months ago; his idea was everything to him; as he became weaker, it would gain the dire72 force of an hallucination. And in the meantime he, Sidney, must submit to be slandered73 by that fellow who had his own ends to gain.
To marry Jane, and, at the old man’s death, resign every farthing of the money to her trustees, for charitable uses? — But the old pang74 of conscience; the life-long wound to Jane’s tender heart.
A day of headache and incapacity, during which it was all he could do to attend to his mechanical work, and again the miserable loneliness of his attic75. It rained, it rained. He had half a mind to seek refuge at some theatre, but the energy to walk so far was lacking. And whilst he stood stupidly abstracted there came a knock at his door.
‘I thought I’d just see if you’d got straight,’ said Joseph Snowdon, entering with his genial smile.
Sidney made no reply, but turned as if to stir the fire. Hands in pockets, Joseph sauntered to a seat.
‘Think you’ll be comfortable here?’ he went on. ‘Well, well; of course it’s only temporary.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ returned Sidney. ‘I may stay here as long as I was at the last place — eight years.’
Joseph laughed, with exceeding good-nature.
‘Oh yes; I shouldn’t wonder,’ he said, entering into the joke. ‘Still’— becoming serious —‘I wish you’d found a pleasanter place. With the winter coming on, you see —’
Sidney broke in with splenetic perversity76.
‘I don’t know that I shall pass the winter here. My arrangements are all temporary — all of them.’
After glancing at him the other crossed his legs and seemed to dispose himself for a stay of some duration.
‘You didn’t turn up the other night — in Hanover Street.’
‘No.’
‘I was there. We talked about you. My father has a notion you haven’t been quite well lately. I dare say you’re worrying a little, eh?’
Sidney remained standing17 by the fireplace, turned so that his face was in shadow.
‘Worry? Oh, I don’t know,’ he replied, idly.
‘Well, I’m worried a good deal, Sidney, and that’s the fact.’
‘What about?’
‘All sorts of things. I’ve meant to have a long talk with you; but then I don’t quite know how to begin. Well, see, it’s chiefly about Jane.’
Sidney neither moved nor spoke.
‘After all, Sidney,’ resumed the other, softening77 his voice, ‘I am her father, you see. A precious bad one I’ve been, that there’s no denying, and dash it if I don’t sometimes feel ashamed of myself. I do when she speaks to me in that pleasant way she has — you know what I mean. For all that, I am her father, and I think it’s only right I should do my best to make her happy. You agree with that, I know.’
‘Certainly I do.’
‘You won’t take it ill if I ask whether — in fact, whether you’ve ever asked her — you know what I mean.’
‘I have not,’ Sidney replied, in a clear, unmoved tone, changing his position at the same time so as to look his interlocutor in the face.
Joseph seemed relieved.
‘Still,’ he continued, ‘you’ve given her to understand — eh? I suppose there’s no secret about that?’
‘I’ve often spoken to her very intimately, but I have used no words such as you are thinking of. It’s quite true that my way of behaving has meant more than ordinary friendship.’
‘Yes, yes; you’re not offended at me bringing this subject up, old man? You see, I’m her father, after all, and I think we ought to understand each other.’
‘You are quite right.’
‘Well, now, see.’ He fidgeted a little. ‘Has my father ever told you that his friend the lawyer, Percival, altogether went against that way of bringing up Jane?’
‘Yes, I know that.’
‘You do?’ Joseph paused before proceeding78. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t much care about Percival. I had a talk with him, you know, when my business was being settled. No, I don’t quite take to him, so to say. Now, you won’t be offended? The fact of the matter is, he asked some rather queer questions about you — or, at all events, if they weren’t exactly questions, they — they came to the same thing.’
Sidney was beginning to glare under his brows. Commonsense79 told him how very unlikely it was that a respectable solicitor80 should compromise himself in talk with a stranger, and that such a man as J. J. Snowdon; yet, whether the story were true or not, it meant that Joseph was plotting in some vile81 way, and thus confirmed his suspicions. He inquired, briefly82 and indifferently, what Mr. Percival’s insinuations had been.
‘Well, I told you I don’t much care for the fellow. He didn’t say as much, mind, but he seemed to be hinting-like that, as Jane’s father, I should do well to — to keep an eye on you — ha, ha! It came to that, I thought — though, of course, I may have been mistaken. It shows how little he knows about you and father. I fancy he’d got it into his head that it was you set father on those plans about Jane — though why I’d like to know.’
He paused. Sidney kept his eyes down, and said nothing.
‘Well, there’s quite enough of that; too much. Still I thought I’d tell you, you see. It’s well to know when we’ve got enemies behind our backs. But see, Sidney; to speak seriously, between ourselves.’ He leaned forward in the confidential83 attitude. ‘You say you’ve gone just a bit further than friendship with our Janey. Well, I don’t know a better man, and that’s the truth — but don’t you think we might put this off for a year or two? Look now, here’s this lady, Miss Lant, taking up the girl, and it’s an advantage to her; you won’t deny that. I sympathise with my good old dad; I do, honestly; but I can’t help thinking that Janey, in her position, ought to see a little of the world. There’s no secrets between us; you know what she’ll have as well as I do. I should be a brute84 if I grudged85 it her, after all she’s suffered from my neglect. But don’t you think we might leave her free for a year or two?’
‘Yes, I agree with you.’
‘You do? I thought you and I could understand each other, if we only got really talking. Look here, Sidney; I don’t mind just whispering to you. For anything I know, Percival is saying disagreeable things to the old man; but don’t you worry about that. It don’t matter a scrap86, you see, so long as you and I keep friendly, eh? I’m talking very open to you, but it’s all for Janey’s sake. If you went and told father I’d been saying anything against Percival — well, it would make things nasty for me. I’ve put myself in your hands, but I know the kind of man you are. It’s only right you should hear of what’s said. Don’t worry; we’ll just wait a little, that’s all. I mean it all for the little girl’s sake. It wouldn’t be nice if you married her and then she was told — eh?’
Sidney looked at the speaker steadily87, then stirred the fire and moved about for a few moments. As he kept absolute silence, Joseph, after throwing out a few vague assurances of goodwill88 and trust, rose to take his leave. Kirkwood shook hands with him, but spoke not a word. Late the same night Sidney penned a letter to Michael Snowdon. In the morning he read it over, and instead of putting it into an envelope, locked it away in one of his drawers.
When the evening for his visit to Hanover Street again came round he again absented himself, this time just calling to leave word with the servant that business kept him away. The business was that of walking aimlessly about Clerkenwell, in mud and fog. About ten o’clock he came to Farringdon Road Buildings, and with a glance up towards the Hewetts’ window he was passing by when a hand clutched at him. Turning, he saw the face of John Hewett, painfully disturbed, strained in some wild emotion.
‘Sidney! Come this way; I want to speak to you.’
‘Why, what’s wrong?’
‘Come over here. Sidney — I’ve found my girl — I’ve found Clara!’
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
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
superstitiously
|
|
| 被邪教所支配 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
lurking
|
|
| 潜在 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
landlady
|
|
| n.女房东，女地主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
redeem
|
|
| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
winking
|
|
| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
jocoseness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
17
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
densest
|
|
| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
craftsmen
|
|
| n. 技工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
lament
|
|
| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
envelop
|
|
| vt.包，封，遮盖；包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
thwarting
|
|
| 阻挠( thwart的现在分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
embittering
|
|
| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
annuity
|
|
| n.年金；养老金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
withhold
|
|
| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
originality
|
|
| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
conscientiousness
|
|
| 责任心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
perils
|
|
| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
adverse
|
|
| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
lurked
|
|
| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
enthusiast
|
|
| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
bliss
|
|
| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
humanitarian
|
|
| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
scruple
|
|
| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
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： |
|
|
|
|
43
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sophistry
|
|
| n.诡辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
exasperating
|
|
| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
genial
|
|
| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
conversed
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
discredit
|
|
| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
gist
|
|
| n.要旨；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
surmising
|
|
| v.臆测，推断( surmise的现在分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
unfamiliar
|
|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
fanatic
|
|
| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
miraculous
|
|
| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
fanatics
|
|
| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
pliancy
|
|
| n.柔软，柔顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
dire
|
|
| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
slandered
|
|
| 造谣中伤( slander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
attic
|
|
| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
perversity
|
|
| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
commonsense
|
|
| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
solicitor
|
|
| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
vile
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
confidential
|
|
| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
grudged
|
|
| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
goodwill
|
|
| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |