Widdowson knew that Monica was going to the Academy. He allowed her to set forth4 alone, and even tried to persuade himself that he was indifferent as to the hour of her return; but she had not long been gone before he followed. Insufferable misery5 possessed6 him. His married life threatened to terminate in utter wreck7, and he had the anguish8 of recognizing that to a great extent this catastrophe9 would be his own fault. Resolve as he might, he found it impossible to repress the impulses of jealousy10 which, as soon as peace had been declared between them, brought about a new misunderstanding. Terrible thoughts smouldered in his mind; he felt himself to be one of those men who are driven by passion into crime. Deliberately12 he had brooded over a tragic13 close to the wretchedness of his existence; he would kill himself, and Monica should perish with him. But an hour of contentment sufficed to banish14 such visions as sheer frenzy15. He saw once more how harmless, how natural, were Monica’s demands, and how peacefully he might live with her but for the curse of suspicion from which he could not free himself. Any other man would deem her a model wifely virtue17. Her care of the house was all that reason could desire. In her behaviour he had never detected the slightest impropriety. He believed her chaste18 as any woman living She asked only to be trusted, and that, in spite of all, was beyond his power.
In no woman on earth could he have put perfect confidence. He regarded them as born to perpetual pupilage. Not that their inclinations19 were necessarily wanton; they were simply incapable20 of attaining21 maturity22, remained throughout their life imperfect beings, at the mercy of craft, ever liable to be misled by childish misconceptions. Of course he was right; he himself represented the guardian23 male, the wife-proprietor, who from the dawn of civilization has taken abundant care that woman shall not outgrow24 her nonage. The bitterness of his situation lay in the fact that he had wedded25 a woman who irresistibly26 proved to him her claims as a human being. Reason and tradition contended in him, to his ceaseless torment27.
And again, he feared that Monica did not love him. Had she ever loved him? There was too much ground for suspecting that she had only yielded to the persistence28 of his entreaties29, with just liking30 enough to permit a semblance31 of tenderness, and glad to exchange her prospect32 of distasteful work for a comfortable married life. Her liking he might have fostered; during those first happy weeks, assuredly he had done so, for no woman could be insensible to the passionate33 worship manifest in his every look, his every word. Later, he took the wrong path, seeking to oppose her instincts, to reform her mind, eventually to become her lord and master. Could he not even now retrace34 his steps? Supposing her incapable of bowing before him, of kissing his feet, could he not be content to make of her a loyal friend, a delightful35 companion?
In that mood he hastened towards Burlington House. Seeking Monica through the galleries, he saw her at length — sitting side by side with that man Barfoot. They were in closest colloquy36. Barfoot bent37 towards her as if speaking in an undertone, a smile on his face. Monica looked at once pleased and troubled.
The blood boiled in his veins38. His first impulse was to walk straight up to Monica and bid her follow him. But the ecstasy39 of jealous suffering kept him an observer. He watched the pair until he was descried40.
There was no help for it. Though his brain whirled, and his flesh was stabbed, he had no choice but to take the hand Barfoot offered him. Smile he could not, nor speak a word.
‘So you have come after all?’ Monica was saying to him.
He nodded. On her countenance41 there was obvious embarrassment42, but this needed no explanation save the history of the last day or two. Looking into her eyes, he knew not whether consciousness of wrong might be read there. How to get at the secrets of this woman’s heart?
Barfoot was talking, pointing at this picture and that, doing his best to smooth what he saw was an awkward situation. The gloomy husband, more like a tyrant43 than ever, muttered incoherent phrases. In a minute or two Everard freed himself and moved out of sight.
Monica turned from her husband and affected44 interest in the pictures. They reached the end of the room before Widdowson spoke45.
‘How long do you want to stay here?’
‘I will go whenever you like,’ she answered, without looking at him.
‘I have no wish to spoil your pleasure.’
‘Really, I have very little pleasure in anything. Did you come to keep me in sight?’
‘I think we will go home now, and you can come another day.’
Monica assented46 by closing her catalogue and walking on.
Without a word, they made the journey back to Herne Hill. Widdowson shut himself in the library, and did not appear till dinner-time. The meal was a pretence47 for both of them, and as soon as they could rise from the table they again parted.
About ten o’clock Monica was joined by her husband in the drawing-room.
‘I have almost made up my mind,’ he said, standing11 near her, ‘to take a serious step. As you have always spoken with pleasure of your old home, Clevedon, suppose we give up this house and go and live there?’
‘It is for you to decide.’
‘I want to know whether you would have any objection.’
‘I shall do as you wish.’
‘No, that isn’t enough. The plan I have in mind is this. I should take a good large house — no doubt rents are low in the neighbourhood — and ask your sisters to come and live with us. I think it would be a good thing both for them and for you.’
‘You can’t be sure that they would agree to it. You see that Virginia prefers her lodgings48 to living here.’
Oddly enough, this was the case. On their return from Guernsey they had invited Virginia to make a permanent home with them, and she refused. Her reasons Monica could not understand; those which she alleged49 — vague arguments as to its being better for a wife’s relatives not to burden the husband — hardly seemed genuine. It was possible that Virginia had a distaste for Widdowson’s society.
‘I think they both would be glad to live at Clevedon,’ he urged, ‘judging from your sisters’ talk. It’s plain that they have quite given up the idea of the school, and Alice, you tell me, is getting dissatisfied with her work at Yatton. But I must know whether you will enter seriously into this scheme.’
Monica kept silence.
‘Please answer me.’
‘Why have you thought of it?’
‘I don’t think I need explain. We have had too many unpleasant conversations, and I wish to act for the best without saying things you would misunderstand.’
‘There is no fear of my misunderstanding. You have no confidence in me, and you want to get me away into a quiet country place where I shall be under your eyes every moment. It’s much better to say that plainly.’
‘That means you would consider it going to prison.’
‘How could I help? What other motive50 have you?’
He was prompted to make brutal51 declaration of authority, and so cut the knot. Monica’s unanswerable argument merely angered him. But he made an effort over himself.
‘Don’t you think it best that we should take some step before our happiness is irretrievably ruined?’
‘I see no need for its ruin. As I have told you before, in talking like that you degrade yourself and insult me.’
‘I have my faults; I know them only too well. One of them is that I cannot bear you to make friends with people who are not of my kind. I shall never be able to endure that.’
‘Of course you are speaking of Mr. Barfoot.’
‘Yes,’ he avowed53 sullenly54. ‘It was a very unfortunate thing that I happened to come up just as he was in your company.’
‘You are so very unreasonable,’ exclaimed Monica tartly56. ‘What possible harm is there in Mr. Barfoot, when he meets me by chance in a public place, having a conversation with me? I wish I knew twenty such men. Such conversation gives me a new interest in life. I have every reason to think well of Mr. Barfoot.’
Widdowson was in anguish.
‘And I,’ he replied, in a voice shaken with angry feeling, ‘feel that I have every reason to dislike and suspect him. He is not an honest man; his face tells me that. I know his life wouldn’t bear inspection57. You can’t possibly be as good a judge as I am in such a case. Contrast him with Bevis. No, Bevis is a man one can trust; one talk with him produces a lasting58 favourable59 impression.’
Monica, silent for a brief space, looked fixedly60 before her, her features all but expressionless.
‘Yet even with Mr. Bevis,’ she said at length, ‘you don’t make friends. That is the fault in you which causes all this trouble. You haven’t a sociable61 spirit. Your dislike of Mr. Barfoot only means that you don’t know him, and don’t wish to. And you are completely wrong in your judgment62 of him. I have every reason for being sure that you are wrong.’
‘Of course you think so. In your ignorance of the world —’
‘Which you think very proper in a woman,’ she interposed caustically63.
‘Yes, I do! That kind of knowledge is harmful to a woman.’
‘Then, please, how is she to judge her acquaintances?’
‘A married woman must accept her husband’s opinion, at all events about men.’ He plunged64 on into the ancient quagmire65. ‘A man may know with impunity66 what is injurious if it enters a woman’s mind.’
‘I don’t believe that. I can’t and won’t believe it.’
He made a gesture of despair.
‘We differ hopelessly. It was all very well to discuss these things when you could do so in a friendly spirit. Now you say whatever you know will irritate me, and you say it on purpose to irritate me.’
‘No; indeed I do not. But you are quite right that I find it hard to be friendly with you. Most earnestly I wish to be your friend — your true and faithful friend. But you won’t let me.’
‘Friend!’ he cried scornfully. ‘The woman who has become my wife ought to be something more than a friend, I should think. You have lost all love for me — there’s the misery.’
Monica could not reply. That word ‘love’ had grown a weariness to her upon his lips. She did not love him; could not pretend to love him. Every day the distance between them widened, and when he took her in his arms she had to struggle with a sense of shrinking, of disgust. The union was unnatural67; she felt herself constrained68 by a hateful force when he called upon her for the show of wifely tenderness. Yet how was she to utter this? The moment such a truth had passed her lips she must leave him. To declare that no trace of love remained in her heart, and still to live with him — that was impossible! The dark foresight69 of a necessity of parting from him corresponded in her to those lurid70 visions which at times shook Widdowson with a horrible temptation.
‘You don’t love me,’ he continued in harsh, choking tones. ‘You wish to be my friend. That’s how you try to compensate71 me for the loss of your love.’
He laughed with bitterness.
‘When you say that,’ Monica answered, ‘do you ever ask yourself whether you try to make me love you? Scenes like this are ruining my health. I have come to dread72 your talk. I have almost forgotten the sound of your voice when it isn’t either angry or complaining.’
Widdowson walked about the room, and a deep moan escaped him.
‘That is why I have asked you to go away from here, Monica. We must have a new home if our life is to begin anew.’
‘I have no faith in mere52 change of place. You would be the same man. If you cannot command your senseless jealousy here, you never would anywhere else.’
He made an effort to say something; seemed to abandon it; again tried, and spoke in a thick, unnatural voice.
‘Can you honestly repeat to me what Barfoot was saying today, when you were on the seat together?’
Monica’s eyes flashed.
‘I could; every word. But I shall not try to do so.’
‘Not if I beseech73 you to, Monica? To put my mind at rest —’
‘No. When I tell you that you might have heard every syllable74, I have said all that I shall.’
It mortified75 him profoundly that he should have been driven to make so humiliating a request. He threw himself into a chair and hid his face, sitting thus for a long time in the hope that Monica would be moved to compassion76. But when she rose it was only to retire for the night. And with wretchedness in her heart, because she must needs go to the same chamber77 in which her husband would sleep. She wished so to be alone. The poorest bed in a servant’s garret would have been thrice welcome to her; liberty to lie awake, to think without a disturbing presence, to shed tears of need be-that seemed to her a precious boon78. She thought with envy of the shop-girls in Walworth Road; wished herself back there. What unspeakable folly79 she had committed! And how true was everything she had heard from Rhoda Nunn on the subject of marriage! The next day Widdowson resorted to an expedient80 which he had once before tried in like circumstances. He wrote his wife a long letter, eight close pages, reviewing the cause of their troubles, confessing his own errors, insisting gently on those chargeable to her, and finally imploring81 her to cooperate with him in a sincere endeavour to restore their happiness. This he laid on the table after lunch, and then left Monica alone that she might read it. Knowing beforehand all that the letter contained, Monica glanced over it carelessly. An answer was expected, and she wrote one as briefly82 as possible.
‘Your behaviour seems to me very weak, very unmanly. You make us both miserable83, and quite without cause. I can only say as I have said before, that things will never be better until you come to think of me as your free companion, not as your bond-woman. If you can’t do this, you will make me wish that I had never met you, and in the end I am sure it won’t be possible for us to go on living together.’
She left this note, in a blank envelope, on the hall table, and went out to walk for an hour.
It was the end of one more acute stage in their progressive discord84. By keeping at home for a fortnight. Monica soothed85 her husband and obtained some repose86 for her own nerves. But she could no longer affect a cordial reconciliation87; caresses88 left her cold, and Widdowson saw that his company was never so agreeable to her as solitude89. When they sat together, both were reading. Monica found more attraction in books as her life grew more unhappy. Though with reluctance90 Widdowson had consented to a subscription91 at Mudie’s, and from the new catalogues she either chose for herself, necessarily at random92, or by the advice of better-read people, such as she met at Mrs. Cosgrove’s. What modern teaching was to be got from these volumes her mind readily absorbed. She sought for opinions and arguments which were congenial to her mood of discontent, all but of revolt.
Sometimes the perusal93 of a love-story embittered94 her lot to the last point of endurance. Before marriage, her love-ideal had been very vague, elusive95; it found scarcely more than negative expression, as a shrinking from the vulgar or gross desires of her companions in the shop. Now that she had a clearer understanding of her own nature, the type of man correspondent to her natural sympathies also became clear. In every particular he was unlike her husband. She found a suggestion of him in books; and in actual life, already, perhaps something more than a suggestion. Widdowson’s jealousy, in so far as it directed itself against her longing96 for freedom, was fully16 justified97; this consciousness often made her sullen55 when she desired to express a nobler indignation; but his special prejudice led him altogether astray, and in free resistance on this point she found the relief which enabled her to bear a secret self-reproach. Her refusal to repeat the substance of Barfoot’s conversation was, in some degree, prompted by a wish for the continuance of his groundless fears. By persevering98 in suspicion of Barfoot, he afforded her a firm foothold in their ever-renewed quarrels.
A husband’s misdirected jealousy excites in the wife derision and a sense of superiority; more often than not, it fosters an unsuspected attachment99, prompts to a perverse100 pleasure in misleading. Monica became aware of this; in her hours of misery she now and then gave a harsh laugh, the result of thoughts not seriously entertained, but tempting101 the fancy to recklessness. What, she asked herself again, would be the end of it all? Ten years hence, would she have subdued102 her soul to a life of weary insignificance103, if not of dishonour104? For it was dishonour to live with a man she could not love, whether her heart cherished another image or was merely vacant. A dishonour to which innumerable women submitted, a dishonour glorified105 by social precept106, enforced under dread penalties.
But she was so young, and life abounds107 in unexpected changes.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
banish
|
|
| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
chaste
|
|
| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
inclinations
|
|
| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
attaining
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
maturity
|
|
| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
guardian
|
|
| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
outgrow
|
|
| vt.长大得使…不再适用；成长得不再要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
wedded
|
|
| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
irresistibly
|
|
| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
persistence
|
|
| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
entreaties
|
|
| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
retrace
|
|
| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
colloquy
|
|
| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
descried
|
|
| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
tyrant
|
|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
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： |
|
|
|
|
46
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
alleged
|
|
| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
avowed
|
|
| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
tartly
|
|
| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
lasting
|
|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
fixedly
|
|
| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
sociable
|
|
| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
caustically
|
|
| adv.刻薄地；挖苦地；尖刻地；讥刺地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
quagmire
|
|
| n.沼地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
impunity
|
|
| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
unnatural
|
|
| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
constrained
|
|
| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
foresight
|
|
| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
lurid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
compensate
|
|
| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
beseech
|
|
| v.祈求，恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
syllable
|
|
| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
mortified
|
|
| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
boon
|
|
| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
expedient
|
|
| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
imploring
|
|
| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
discord
|
|
| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
reconciliation
|
|
| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
caresses
|
|
| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
subscription
|
|
| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
perusal
|
|
| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
embittered
|
|
| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
elusive
|
|
| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
persevering
|
|
| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
perverse
|
|
| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
tempting
|
|
| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
insignificance
|
|
| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
dishonour
|
|
| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
glorified
|
|
| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
precept
|
|
| n.戒律；格言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
abounds
|
|
| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |