A cold rain began to fall, and the blurred1 street-lamps looked ghastly in the dripping mist. The public-houses were just closing, and dim men and women were clustering in broken groups round their doors. From some of the bars came the sound of horrible laughter. In others, drunkards brawled3 and screamed.
Lying back in the hansom, with his hat pulled over his forehead, Dorian Gray watched with listless eyes the sordid4 shame of the great city, and now and then he repeated to himself the words that Lord Henry had said to him on the first day they had met, "To cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul." Yes, that was the secret. He had often tried it, and would try it again now. There were opium5 dens6 where one could buy oblivion, dens of horror where the memory of old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were new.
The moon hung low in the sky like a yellow skull8. From time to time a huge misshapen cloud stretched a long arm across and hid it. The gas-lamps grew fewer, and the streets more narrow and gloomy. Once the man lost his way and had to drive back half a mile. A steam rose from the horse as it splashed up the puddles9. The sidewindows of the hansom were clogged10 with a grey-flannel mist.
"To cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul!" How the words rang in his ears! His soul, certainly, was sick to death. Was it true that the senses could cure it? Innocent blood had been spilled. What could atone11 for that? Ah! for that there was no atonement; but though forgiveness was impossible, forgetfulness was possible still, and he was determined12 to forget, to stamp the thing out, to crush it as one would crush the adder13 that had stung one. Indeed, what right had Basil to have spoken to him as he had done? Who had made him a judge over others? He had said things that were dreadful, horrible, not to be endured.
On and on plodded15 the hansom, going slower, it seemed to him, at each step. He thrust up the trap and called to the man to drive faster. The hideous16 hunger for opium began to gnaw17 at him. His throat burned and his delicate hands twitched18 nervously19 together. He struck at the horse madly with his stick. The driver laughed and whipped up. He laughed in answer, and the man was silent.
The way seemed interminable, and the streets like the black web of some sprawling20 spider. The monotony became unbearable21, and as the mist thickened, he felt afraid.
Then they passed by lonely brickfields. The fog was lighter22 here, and he could see the strange, bottle-shaped kilns23 with their orange, fanlike tongues of fire. A dog barked as they went by, and far away in the darkness some wandering sea-gull screamed. The horse stumbled in a rut, then swerved24 aside and broke into a gallop25.
After some time they left the clay road and rattled26 again over rough-paven streets. Most of the windows were dark, but now and then fantastic shadows were silhouetted27 against some lamplit blind. He watched them curiously28. They moved like monstrous29 marionettes and made gestures like live things. He hated them. A dull rage was in his heart. As they turned a corner, a woman yelled something at them from an open door, and two men ran after the hansom for about a hundred yards. The driver beat at them with his whip.
It is said that passion makes one think in a circle. Certainly with hideous iteration the bitten lips of Dorian Gray shaped and reshaped those subtle words that dealt with soul and sense, till he had found in them the full expression, as it were, of his mood, and justified30, by intellectual approval, passions that without such justification31 would still have dominated his temper. From cell to cell of his brain crept the one thought; and the wild desire to live, most terrible of all man's appetites, quickened into force each trembling nerve and fibre. Ugliness that had once been hateful to him because it made things real, became dear to him now for that very reason. Ugliness was the one reality. The coarse brawl2, the loathsome32 den7, the crude violence of disordered life, the very vileness33 of thief and outcast, were more vivid, in their intense actuality of impression, than all the gracious shapes of art, the dreamy shadows of song. They were what he needed for forgetfulness. In three days he would be free.
Suddenly the man drew up with a jerk at the top of a dark lane. Over the low roofs and jagged chimney-stacks of the houses rose the black masts of ships. Wreaths of white mist clung like ghostly sails to the yards.
"Somewhere about here, sir, ain't it?" he asked huskily through the trap.
Dorian started and peered round. "This will do," he answered, and having got out hastily and given the driver the extra fare he had promised him, he walked quickly in the direction of the quay34. Here and there a lantern gleamed at the stern of some huge merchantman. The light shook and splintered in the puddles. A red glare came from an outward-bound steamer that was coaling. The slimy pavement looked like a wet mackintosh.
He hurried on towards the left, glancing back now and then to see if he was being followed. In about seven or eight minutes he reached a small shabby house that was wedged in between two gaunt factories. In one of the top-windows stood a lamp. He stopped and gave a peculiar35 knock.
After a little time he heard steps in the passage and the chain being unhooked. The door opened quietly, and he went in without saying a word to the squat36 misshapen figure that flattened37 itself into the shadow as he passed. At the end of the hall hung a tattered38 green curtain that swayed and shook in the gusty39 wind which had followed him in from the street. He dragged it aside and entered a long low room which looked as if it had once been a third-rate dancing-saloon. Shrill41 flaring42 gas-jets, dulled and distorted in the fly-blown mirrors that faced them, were ranged round the walls. Greasy43 reflectors of ribbed tin backed them, making quivering disks of light. The floor was covered with ochre-coloured sawdust, trampled44 here and there into mud, and stained with dark rings of spilled liquor. Some Malays were crouching45 by a little charcoal46 stove, playing with bone counters and showing their white teeth as they chattered47. In one corner, with his head buried in his arms, a sailor sprawled49 over a table, and by the tawdrily painted bar that ran across one complete side stood two haggard women, mocking an old man who was brushing the sleeves of his coat with an expression of disgust. "He thinks he's got red ants on him," laughed one of them, as Dorian passed by. The man looked at her in terror and began to whimper.
At the end of the room there was a little staircase, leading to a darkened chamber50. As Dorian hurried up its three rickety steps, the heavy odour of opium met him. He heaved a deep breath, and his nostrils51 quivered with pleasure. When he entered, a young man with smooth yellow hair, who was bending over a lamp lighting52 a long thin pipe, looked up at him and nodded in a hesitating manner.
"You here, Adrian?" muttered Dorian.
"Where else should I be?" he answered, listlessly. "None of the chaps will speak to me now."
"I thought you had left England."
"Darlington is not going to do anything. My brother paid the bill at last. George doesn't speak to me either. . . . I don't care," he added with a sigh. "As long as one has this stuff, one doesn't want friends. I think I have had too many friends."
Dorian winced53 and looked round at the grotesque54 things that lay in such fantastic postures55 on the ragged40 mattresses56. The twisted limbs, the gaping57 mouths, the staring lustreless58 eyes, fascinated him. He knew in what strange heavens they were suffering, and what dull hells were teaching them the secret of some new joy. They were better off than he was. He was prisoned in thought. Memory, like a horrible malady59, was eating his soul away. From time to time he seemed to see the eyes of Basil Hallward looking at him. Yet he felt he could not stay. The presence of Adrian Singleton troubled him. He wanted to be where no one would know who he was. He wanted to escape from himself.
"I am going on to the other place," he said after a pause.
"Yes."
"That mad-cat is sure to be there. They won't have her in this place now."
Dorian shrugged61 his shoulders. "I am sick of women who love one. Women who hate one are much more interesting. Besides, the stuff is better."
"Much the same."
"I like it better. Come and have something to drink. I must have something."
"I don't want anything," murmured the young man.
"Never mind."
Adrian Singleton rose up wearily and followed Dorian to the bar. A half-caste, in a ragged turban and a shabby ulster, grinned a hideous greeting as he thrust a bottle of brandy and two tumblers in front of them. The women sidled up and began to chatter48. Dorian turned his back on them and said something in a low voice to Adrian Singleton.
A crooked62 smile, like a Malay crease63, writhed64 across the face of one of the women. "We are very proud to-night," she sneered65.
"For God's sake don't talk to me," cried Dorian, stamping his foot on the ground. "What do you want? Money? Here it is. Don't ever talk to me again."
Two red sparks flashed for a moment in the woman's sodden66 eyes, then flickered67 out and left them dull and glazed68. She tossed her head and raked the coins off the counter with greedy fingers. Her companion watched her enviously69.
"It's no use," sighed Adrian Singleton. "I don't care to go back. What does it matter? I am quite happy here."
"You will write to me if you want anything, won't you?" said Dorian, after a pause.
"Perhaps."
"Good night, then."
"Good night," answered the young man, passing up the steps and wiping his parched70 mouth with a handkerchief.
Dorian walked to the door with a look of pain in his face. As he drew the curtain aside, a hideous laugh broke from the painted lips of the woman who had taken his money. "There goes the devil's bargain!" she hiccoughed, in a hoarse71 voice.
"Curse you!" he answered, "don't call me that."
She snapped her fingers. "Prince Charming is what you like to be called, ain't it?" she yelled after him.
The drowsy72 sailor leaped to his feet as she spoke14, and looked wildly round. The sound of the shutting of the hall door fell on his ear. He rushed out as if in pursuit.
Dorian Gray hurried along the quay through the drizzling73 rain. His meeting with Adrian Singleton had strangely moved him, and he wondered if the ruin of that young life was really to be laid at his door, as Basil Hallward had said to him with such infamy74 of insult. He bit his lip, and for a few seconds his eyes grew sad. Yet, after all, what did it matter to him? One's days were too brief to take the burden of another's errors on one's shoulders. Each man lived his own life and paid his own price for living it. The only pity was one had to pay so often for a single fault. One had to pay over and over again, indeed. In her dealings with man, destiny never closed her accounts.
There are moments, psychologists tell us, when the passion for sin, or for what the world calls sin, so dominates a nature that every fibre of the body, as every cell of the brain, seems to be instinct with fearful impulses. Men and women at such moments lose the freedom of their will. They move to their terrible end as automatons75 move. Choice is taken from them, and conscience is either killed, or, if it lives at all, lives but to give rebellion its fascination76 and disobedience its charm. For all sins, as theologians weary not of reminding us, are sins of disobedience. When that high spirit, that morning star of evil, fell from heaven, it was as a rebel that he fell.
Callous77, concentrated on evil, with stained mind, and soul hungry for rebellion, Dorian Gray hastened on, quickening his step as he went, but as he darted78 aside into a dim archway, that had served him often as a short cut to the ill-famed place where he was going, he felt himself suddenly seized from behind, and before be had time to defend himself, he was thrust back against the wall, with a brutal79 hand round his throat.
He struggled madly for life, and by a terrible effort wrenched80 the tightening81 fingers away. In a second he heard the click of a revolver, and saw the gleam of a polished barrel, pointing straight at his head, and the dusky form of a short, thick-set man facing him.
"What do you want?" he gasped82.
"Keep quiet," said the man. "If you stir, I shoot you."
"You are mad. What have I done to you?"
"You wrecked83 the life of Sibyl Vane," was the answer, "and Sibyl Vane was my sister. She killed herself. I know it. Her death is at your door. I swore I would kill you in return. For years I have sought you. I had no clue, no trace. The two people who could have described you were dead. I knew nothing of you but the pet name she used to call you. I heard it to-night by chance. Make your peace with God, for to-night you are going to die."
Dorian Gray grew sick with fear. "I never knew her," he stammered84. "I never heard of her. You are mad."
"You had better confess your sin, for as sure as I am James Vane, you are going to die." There was a horrible moment. Dorian did not know what to say or do. "Down on your knees!" growled85 the man. "I give you one minute to make your peace--no more. I go on board to-night for India, and I must do my job first. One minute. That's all."
Dorian's arms fell to his side. Paralysed with terror, he did not know what to do. Suddenly a wild hope flashed across his brain. "Stop," he cried. "How long ago is it since your sister died? Quick, tell me!"
"Eighteen years," said the man. "Why do you ask me? What do years matter?"
"Eighteen years," laughed Dorian Gray, with a touch of triumph in his voice. "Eighteen years! Set me under the lamp and look at my face!"
James Vane hesitated for a moment, not understanding what was meant. Then he seized Dorian Gray and dragged him from the archway.
Dim and wavering as was the wind-blown light, yet it served to show him the hideous error, as it seemed, into which he had fallen, for the face of the man he had sought to kill had all the bloom of boyhood, all the unstained purity of youth. He seemed little more than a lad of twenty summers, hardly older, if older indeed at all, than his sister had been when they had parted so many years ago. It was obvious that this was not the man who had destroyed her life.
He loosened his hold and reeled back. "My God! my God!" he cried, "and I would have murdered you!"
Dorian Gray drew a long breath. "You have been on the brink86 of committing a terrible crime, my man," he said, looking at him sternly. "Let this be a warning to you not to take vengeance87 into your own hands."
"Forgive me, sir," muttered James Vane. "I was deceived. A chance word I heard in that damned den set me on the wrong track."
"You had better go home and put that pistol away, or you may get into trouble," said Dorian, turning on his heel and going slowly down the street.
James Vane stood on the pavement in horror. He was trembling from head to foot. After a little while, a black shadow that had been creeping along the dripping wall moved out into the light and came close to him with stealthy footsteps. He felt a hand laid on his arm and looked round with a start. It was one of the women who had been drinking at the bar.
"Why didn't you kill him?" she hissed88 out, putting haggard face quite close to his. "I knew you were following him when you rushed out from Daly's. You fool! You should have killed him. He has lots of money, and he's as bad as bad."
"He is not the man I am looking for," he answered, "and I want no man's money. I want a man's life. The man whose life I want must be nearly forty now. This one is little more than a boy. Thank God, I have not got his blood upon my hands."
The woman gave a bitter laugh. "Little more than a boy!" she sneered. "Why, man, it's nigh on eighteen years since Prince Charming made me what I am."
"You lie!" cried James Vane.
She raised her hand up to heaven. "Before God I am telling the truth," she cried.
"Before God?"
"Strike me dumb if it ain't so. He is the worst one that comes here. They say he has sold himself to the devil for a pretty face. It's nigh on eighteen years since I met him. He hasn't changed much since then. I have, though," she added, with a sickly leer.
"You swear this?"
"I swear it," came in hoarse echo from her flat mouth. "But don't give me away to him," she whined89; "I am afraid of him. Let me have some money for my night's lodging90."
He broke from her with an oath and rushed to the corner of the street, but Dorian Gray had disappeared. When he looked back, the woman had vanished also.
收听单词发音 |
1
blurred
|
|
| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
brawl
|
|
| n.大声争吵，喧嚷；v.吵架，对骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
brawled
|
|
| 打架，争吵( brawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
opium
|
|
| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
dens
|
|
| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
puddles
|
|
| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
clogged
|
|
| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
atone
|
|
| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
adder
|
|
| n.蝰蛇；小毒蛇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
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： |
|
|
|
|
15
plodded
|
|
| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
gnaw
|
|
| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
twitched
|
|
| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
sprawling
|
|
| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
unbearable
|
|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
kilns
|
|
| n.窑( kiln的名词复数 )；烧窑工人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
swerved
|
|
| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
gallop
|
|
| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
silhouetted
|
|
| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
justification
|
|
| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
loathsome
|
|
| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
vileness
|
|
| n.讨厌，卑劣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
quay
|
|
| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
squat
|
|
| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
flattened
|
|
| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
tattered
|
|
| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
gusty
|
|
| adj.起大风的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
flaring
|
|
| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
greasy
|
|
| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
trampled
|
|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
crouching
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
charcoal
|
|
| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
chattered
|
|
| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
sprawled
|
|
| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
lighting
|
|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
winced
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
grotesque
|
|
| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
postures
|
|
| 姿势( posture的名词复数 )； 看法； 态度； 立场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
mattresses
|
|
| 褥垫，床垫( mattress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
gaping
|
|
| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
lustreless
|
|
| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
malady
|
|
| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
wharf
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
crease
|
|
| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
writhed
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
sneered
|
|
| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
sodden
|
|
| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
enviously
|
|
| adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
parched
|
|
| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
drowsy
|
|
| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
drizzling
|
|
| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
infamy
|
|
| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
automatons
|
|
| n.自动机，机器人( automaton的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
callous
|
|
| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
wrenched
|
|
| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
tightening
|
|
| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
wrecked
|
|
| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
brink
|
|
| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
vengeance
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
hissed
|
|
| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
whined
|
|
| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |