Gaston noted3 with pleasure the transition from the conditional4 to the future tense, and also the circumstance that his father had been lost in a book according to his now confirmed custom of evening ease. This proved him not too much off the hinge. He read a great deal, and very serious books; works about the origin of things — of man, of institutions, of speech, of religion. This habit he had taken up more particularly since the circle of his social life had contracted. He sat there alone, turning his pages softly, contentedly5, with the lamplight shining on his refined old head and embroidered6 dressing-gown. He had used of old to be out every night in the week — Gaston was perfectly7 aware that to many dull people he must even have appeared a little frivolous8. He was essentially9 a social creature and indeed — except perhaps poor Jane in her damp old castle in Brittany — they were all social creatures. That was doubtless part of the reason why the family had acclimatised itself in France. They had affinities10 with a society of conversation; they liked general talk and old high salons11, slightly tarnished12 and dim, containing precious relics13, where winged words flew about through a circle round the fire and some clever person, before the chimney-piece, held or challenged the others. That figure, Gaston knew, especially in the days before he could see for himself, had very often been his father, the lightest and most amiable14 specimen15 of the type that enjoyed easy possession of the hearth-rug. People left it to him; he was so transparent16, like a glass screen, and he never triumphed in debate. His word on most subjects was not felt to be the last (it was usually not more conclusive17 than a shrugging inarticulate resignation, an “Ah you know, what will you have?”); but he had been none the less a part of the very prestige of some dozen good houses, most of them over the river, in the conservative faubourg, and several today profaned18 shrines19, cold and desolate20 hearths21. These had made up Mr. Probert’s pleasant world — a world not too small for him and yet not too large, though some of them supposed themselves great institutions. Gaston knew the succession of events that had helped to make a difference, the most salient of which were the death of his brother, the death of his mother, and above all perhaps the demise22 of Mme. de Marignac, to whom the old boy used still to go three or four evenings out of the seven and sometimes even in the morning besides. Gaston fully23 measured the place she had held in his father’s life and affection, and the terms on which they had grown up together — her people had been friends of his grandfather when that fine old Southern worthy24 came, a widower25 with a young son and several negroes, to take his pleasure in Paris in the time of Louis Philippe — and the devoted26 part she had played in marrying his sisters. He was quite aware that her friendship and all its exertions27 were often mentioned as explaining their position, so remarkable28 in a society in which they had begun after all as outsiders. But he would have guessed, even if he had not been told, what his father said to that. To offer the Proberts a position was to carry water to the fountain; they hadn’t left their own behind them in Carolina; it had been large enough to stretch across the sea. As to what it was in Carolina there was no need of being explicit29. This adoptive Parisian was by nature presupposing, but he was admirably urbane30 — that was why they let him talk so before the fire; he was the oracle31 persuasive32, the conciliatory voice — and after the death of his wife and of Mme. de Marignac, who had been her friend too, the young man’s mother’s, he was gentler, if more detached, than before. Gaston had already felt him to care in consequence less for everything — except indeed for the true faith, to which he drew still closer — and this increase of indifference34 doubtless helped to explain his present charming accommodation.
“We shall be thankful for any rooms you may give us,” his son said. “We shall fill out the house a little, and won’t that be rather an improvement, shrunken as you and I have become?”
“You’ll fill it out a good deal, I suppose, with Mr. Dosson and the other girl.”
“Ah Francie won’t give up her father and sister, certainly; and what should you think of her if she did? But they’re not intrusive35; they’re essentially modest people; they won’t put themselves upon us. They have great natural discretion,” Gaston declared.
“Do you answer for that? Susan does; she’s always assuring one of it,” Mr. Probert said. “The father has so much that he wouldn’t even speak to me.”
“He didn’t, poor dear man, know what to say.”
“How then shall I know what to say to HIM?”
“Ah you always know!” Gaston smiled.
“How will that help us if he doesn’t know what to answer?”
“You’ll draw him out. He’s full of a funny little shade of bonhomie.”
“Well, I won’t quarrel with your bonhomme,” said Mr. Probert —“if he’s silent there are much worse faults; nor yet with the fat young lady, though she’s evidently vulgar — even if you call it perhaps too a funny little shade. It’s not for ourselves I’m afraid; it’s for them. They’ll be very unhappy.”
“Never, never!” said Gaston. “They’re too simple. They’ll remain so. They’re not morbid36 nor suspicious. And don’t you like Francie? You haven’t told me so,” he added in a moment.
“She talks about ‘Parus,’ my dear boy.”
“Ah to Susan too that seemed the great barrier. But she has got over it. I mean Susan has got over the barrier. We shall make her speak French; she has a real disposition37 for it; her French is already almost as good as her English.”
“That oughtn’t to be difficult. What will you have? Of course she’s very pretty and I’m sure she’s good. But I won’t tell you she is a marvel38, because you must remember — you young fellows think your own point of view and your own experience everything — that I’ve seen beauties without number. I’ve known the most charming women of our time — women of an order to which Miss Francie, con2 rispetto parlando, will never begin to belong. I’m difficult about women — how can I help it? Therefore when you pick up a little American girl at an inn and bring her to us as a miracle, feel how standards alter. J’ai vu mieux que ca, mon cher. However, I accept everything today, as you know; when once one has lost one’s enthusiasm everything’s the same and one might as well perish by the sword as by famine.”
“I hoped she’d fascinate you on the spot,” Gaston rather ruefully remarked.
“‘Fascinate’— the language you fellows use! How many times in one’s life is one likely to be fascinated?”
“Well, she’ll charm you yet.”
“She’ll never know at least that she doesn’t: I’ll engage for that,” said Mr. Probert handsomely.
“Ah be sincere with her, father — she’s worth it!” his son broke out.
When the elder man took that tone, the tone of vast experience and a fastidiousness justified39 by ineffable40 recollections, our friend was more provoked than he could say, though he was also considerably41 amused, for he had a good while since, made up his mind about the element of rather stupid convention in it. It was fatuous42 to miss so little the fine perceptions one didn’t have: so far from its showing experience it showed a sad simplicity43 not to FEEL Francie Dosson. He thanked God she was just the sort of imponderable infinite quantity, such as there were no stupid terms for, that he did feel. He didn’t know what old frumps his father might have frequented — the style of 1830, with long curls in front, a vapid44 simper, a Scotch45 plaid dress and a corsage, in a point suggestive of twenty whalebones, coming down to the knees — but he could remember Mme. de Marignac’s Tuesdays and Thursdays and Fridays, with Sundays and other days thrown in, and the taste that prevailed in that milieu46: the books they admired, the verses they read and recited, the pictures, great heaven! they thought good, and the three busts47 of the lady of the house in different corners (as a Diana, a Druidess and a Croyante: her shoulders were supposed to make up for her head), effigies48 the public ridicule49 attaching to which today would — even the least bad, Canova’s — make their authors burrow50 in holes for shame.
“And what else is she worth?” Mr. Probert asked after a momentary51 hesitation52.
“How do you mean, what else?”
“Her immense prospects53, that’s what Susan has been putting forward. Susan’s insistence54 on them was mainly what brought over Jane. Do you mind my speaking of them?”
Gaston was obliged to recognise privately55 the importance of Jane’s having been brought over, but he hated to hear it spoken of as if he were under an obligation to it. “To whom, sir?” he asked.
“Oh only to you.”
“You can’t do less than Mr. Dosson. As I told you, he waived56 the question of money and he was splendid. We can’t be more mercenary than he.”
“He waived the question of his own, you mean?” said Mr. Probert.
“Yes, and of yours. But it will be all right.” The young man flattered himself that this was as near as he was willing to go to any view of pecuniary57 convenience.
“Well, it’s your affair — or your sisters’,” his father returned.
“It’s their idea that we see where we are and that we make the best of it.”
“It’s very good of them to make the best of it and I should think they’d be tired of their own chatter,” Gaston impatiently sighed.
Mr. Probert looked at him a moment in vague surprise, but only said: “I think they are. However, the period of discussion’s closed. We’ve taken the jump.” He then added as to put the matter a little less dryly: “Alphonse and Maxime are quite of your opinion.”
“Of my opinion?”
“That she’s charming.”
“Confound them then, I’m not of theirs!” The form of this rejoinder was childishly perverse58, and it made Mr. Probert stare again; but it belonged to one of the reasons for which his children regarded him as an old darling that Gaston could suppose him after an instant to embrace it. The old man said nothing, but took up his book, and his son, who had been standing59 before the fire, went out of the room. His abstention from protest at Gaston’s petulance60 was the more generous as he was capable, for his part, of feeling it to make for a greater amenity61 in the whole connexion that ces messieurs should like the little girl at the hotel. Gaston didn’t care a straw what it made for, and would have seen himself in bondage62 indeed had he given a second thought to the question. This was especially the case as his father’s mention of the approval of two of his brothers-inlaw appeared to point to a possible disapproval63 on the part of the third. Francie’s lover cared as little whether she displeased64 M. de Brecourt as he cared whether she pleased Maxime and Raoul. Mr. Probert continued to read, and in a few moments Gaston was with him again. He had expressed surprise, just before, at the wealth of discussion his sisters had been ready to expend65 in his interest, but he managed to convey now that there was still a point of a certain importance to be made. “It seems rather odd to me that you should all appear to accept the step I’M about to take as a necessity disagreeable at the best, when I myself hold that I’ve been so exceedingly fortunate.”
Mr. Probert lowered his book accommodatingly and rested his eyes on the fire. “You won’t be content till we’re enthusiastic. She seems an amiable girl certainly, and in that you’re fortunate.”
“I don’t think you can tell me what would be better — what you’d have preferred,” the young man said.
“What I should have preferred? In the first place you must remember that I wasn’t madly impatient to see you married.”
“I can imagine that, and yet I can’t imagine that as things have turned out you shouldn’t be struck with my felicity. To get something so charming and to get it of our own species!” Gaston explained.
“Of our own species? Tudieu!” said his father, looking up.
“Surely it’s infinitely66 fresher and more amusing for me to marry an American. There’s a sad want of freshness — there’s even a provinciality67 — in the way we’ve Gallicised.”
“Against Americans I’ve nothing to say; some of them are the best thing the world contains. That’s precisely68 why one can choose. They’re far from doing all like that.”
“Like what, dear father?”
“Comme ces gens-la. You know that if they were French, being otherwise what they are, one wouldn’t look at them.”
“Indeed one would; they would be such rare curiosities.”
“Well, perhaps they’ll do for queer fish,” said Mr. Probert with a little conclusive sigh.
“Yes, let them pass at that. They’ll surprise you.”
“Not too much, I hope!” cried the old man, opening his volume again.
The complexity69 of things among the Proberts, it needn’t nevertheless startle us to learn, was such as to make it impossible for Gaston to proceed to the celebration of his nuptial70, with all the needful circumstances of material preparation and social support, before some three months should have expired. He chafed71 however but moderately under this condition, for he remembered it would give Francie time to endear herself to his whole circle. It would also have advantages for the Dossons; it would enable them to establish by simple but effective arts some modus vivendi with that rigid72 body. It would in short help every one to get used to everything. Mr. Dosson’s designs and Delia’s took no articulate form; what was mainly clear to Gaston was that his future wife’s relatives had as yet no sense of disconnexion. He knew that Mr. Dosson would do whatever Delia liked and that Delia would like to “start” her sister — this whether or no she expected to be present at the rest of the race. Mr. Probert notified Mr. Dosson of what he proposed to “do” for his son, and Mr. Dosson appeared more quietly amused than anything else at the news. He announced in return no intentions in regard to Francie, and his strange silence was the cause of another convocation of the house of Probert. Here Mme. de Brecourt’s bold front won another victory; she maintained, as she let her brother know, that it was too late for any policy but a policy of confidence. “Lord help us, is that what they call confidence?” the young man gasped73, guessing the way they all had looked at each other; and he wondered how they would look next at poor Mr. Dosson himself. Fortunately he could always fall back, for reassurance74, on the perfection of their “forms”; though indeed he thoroughly75 knew that these forms would never appear so striking as on the day — should such a day fatally come — of their meddling76 too much.
Mr. Probert’s property was altogether in the United States: he resembled other discriminating77 persons for whom the only good taste in America was the taste of invested and paying capital. The provisions he was engaging to make for his son’s marriage rendered advisable some attention, on the spot, to interests with the management of which he was acquainted only by report. It had long been his conviction that his affairs beyond the sea needed looking into; they had gone on and on for years too far from the master’s eye. He had thought of making the journey in the cause of that vigilance, but now he was too old and too tired and the effort had become impossible. There was nothing therefore but for Gaston to go, and go quickly, though the time so little fostered his absence from Paris. The duty was none the less laid upon him and the question practically faced; then everything yielded to the consideration that he had best wait till after his marriage, when he might be so auspiciously78 accompanied by his wife. Francie would be in many ways so propitious79 an introducer. This abatement80 would have taken effect had not a call for an equal energy on Mr. Dosson’s part suddenly appeared to reach and to move that gentleman. He had business on the other side, he announced, to attend to, though his starting for New York presented difficulties, since he couldn’t in such a situation leave his daughters alone. Not only would such a proceeding81 have given scandal to the Proberts, but Gaston learned, with much surprise and not a little amusement, that Delia, in consequence of changes now finely wrought82 in her personal philosophy, wouldn’t have felt his doing so square with propriety83. The young man was able to put it to her that nothing would be simpler than, in the interval84, for Francie to go and stay with Susan or Margaret; she herself in that case would be free to accompany her father. But Delia declared at this that nothing would induce her to budge85 from Paris till she had seen her sister through, and Gaston shrank from proposing that she too should spend five weeks in the Place Beauvau or the Rue33 de Lille. There was moreover a slight element of the mystifying for him in the perverse unsociable way in which Francie took up a position of marked disfavour as yet to any “visiting.” AFTER, if he liked, but not till then. And she wouldn’t at the moment give the reasons of her refusal; it was only very positive and even quite passionate86.
All this left her troubled suitor no alternative but to say to Mr. Dosson: “I’m not, my dear sir, such a fool as I look. If you’ll coach me properly, and trust me, why shouldn’t I rush across and transact87 your business as well as my father’s?” Strange as it appeared, Francie offered herself as accepting this separation from her lover, which would last six or seven weeks, rather than accept the hospitality of any member of his family. Mr. Dosson, on his side, was grateful for the solution; he remarked “Well, sir, you’ve got a big brain” at the end of a morning they spent with papers and pencils; and on this Gaston made his preparations to sail. Before he left Paris Francie, to do her justice, confided88 to him that her objection to going in such an intimate way even to Mme. de Brecourt’s had been founded on a fear that in close quarters she might do something that would make them all despise her. Gaston replied, in the first place, ardently89, that this was the very delirium90 of delicacy91, and that he wanted to know in the second if she expected never to be at close quarters with “tous les siens.” “Ah yes, but then it will be safer,” she pleaded; “then we shall be married and by so much, shan’t we? be beyond harm.” In rejoinder to which he had simply kissed her; the passage taking place three days before her lover took ship. What further befell in the brief interval was that, stopping for a last word at the Hotel de l’Univers et the Cheltenham on his way to catch the night express to London — he was to sail from Liverpool — Gaston found Mr. George Flack sitting in the red-satin saloon. The correspondent of the Reverberator92 had come back.
点击收听单词发音
1 habitually | |
ad.习惯地,通常地 | |
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2 con | |
n.反对的观点,反对者,反对票,肺病;vt.精读,学习,默记;adv.反对地,从反面;adj.欺诈的 | |
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3 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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4 conditional | |
adj.条件的,带有条件的 | |
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5 contentedly | |
adv.心满意足地 | |
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6 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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7 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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8 frivolous | |
adj.轻薄的;轻率的 | |
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9 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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10 affinities | |
n.密切关系( affinity的名词复数 );亲近;(生性)喜爱;类同 | |
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11 salons | |
n.(营业性质的)店( salon的名词复数 );厅;沙龙(旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所);(大宅中的)客厅 | |
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12 tarnished | |
(通常指金属)(使)失去光泽,(使)变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 ); 玷污,败坏 | |
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13 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
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14 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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15 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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16 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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17 conclusive | |
adj.最后的,结论的;确凿的,消除怀疑的 | |
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18 profaned | |
v.不敬( profane的过去式和过去分词 );亵渎,玷污 | |
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19 shrines | |
圣地,圣坛,神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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20 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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21 hearths | |
壁炉前的地板,炉床,壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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22 demise | |
n.死亡;v.让渡,遗赠,转让 | |
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23 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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24 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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25 widower | |
n.鳏夫 | |
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26 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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27 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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28 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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29 explicit | |
adj.详述的,明确的;坦率的;显然的 | |
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30 urbane | |
adj.温文尔雅的,懂礼的 | |
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31 oracle | |
n.神谕,神谕处,预言 | |
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32 persuasive | |
adj.有说服力的,能说得使人相信的 | |
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33 rue | |
n.懊悔,芸香,后悔;v.后悔,悲伤,懊悔 | |
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34 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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35 intrusive | |
adj.打搅的;侵扰的 | |
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36 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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37 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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38 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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39 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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40 ineffable | |
adj.无法表达的,不可言喻的 | |
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41 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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42 fatuous | |
adj.愚昧的;昏庸的 | |
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43 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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44 vapid | |
adj.无味的;无生气的 | |
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45 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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46 milieu | |
n.环境;出身背景;(个人所处的)社会环境 | |
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47 busts | |
半身雕塑像( bust的名词复数 ); 妇女的胸部; 胸围; 突击搜捕 | |
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48 effigies | |
n.(人的)雕像,模拟像,肖像( effigy的名词复数 ) | |
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49 ridicule | |
v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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50 burrow | |
vt.挖掘(洞穴);钻进;vi.挖洞;翻寻;n.地洞 | |
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51 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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52 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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53 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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54 insistence | |
n.坚持;强调;坚决主张 | |
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55 privately | |
adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
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56 waived | |
v.宣布放弃( waive的过去式和过去分词 );搁置;推迟;放弃(权利、要求等) | |
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57 pecuniary | |
adj.金钱的;金钱上的 | |
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58 perverse | |
adj.刚愎的;坚持错误的,行为反常的 | |
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59 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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60 petulance | |
n.发脾气,生气,易怒,暴躁,性急 | |
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61 amenity | |
n.pl.生活福利设施,文娱康乐场所;(不可数)愉快,适意 | |
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62 bondage | |
n.奴役,束缚 | |
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63 disapproval | |
n.反对,不赞成 | |
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64 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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65 expend | |
vt.花费,消费,消耗 | |
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66 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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67 provinciality | |
n.乡下习气,粗鄙;偏狭 | |
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68 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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69 complexity | |
n.复杂(性),复杂的事物 | |
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70 nuptial | |
adj.婚姻的,婚礼的 | |
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71 chafed | |
v.擦热(尤指皮肤)( chafe的过去式 );擦痛;发怒;惹怒 | |
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72 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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73 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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74 reassurance | |
n.使放心,使消除疑虑 | |
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75 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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76 meddling | |
v.干涉,干预(他人事务)( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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77 discriminating | |
a.有辨别能力的 | |
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78 auspiciously | |
adv.吉利; 繁荣昌盛; 前途顺利; 吉祥 | |
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79 propitious | |
adj.吉利的;顺利的 | |
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80 abatement | |
n.减(免)税,打折扣,冲销 | |
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81 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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82 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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83 propriety | |
n.正当行为;正当;适当 | |
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84 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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85 budge | |
v.移动一点儿;改变立场 | |
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86 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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87 transact | |
v.处理;做交易;谈判 | |
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88 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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89 ardently | |
adv.热心地,热烈地 | |
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90 delirium | |
n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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91 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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92 reverberator | |
反射器,反射灯,反射炉 | |
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