Sheba was one of those old New England towns from which the hurry of life has departed; it cared more for its traditions than for its future, and sat watching the present like a gray spectacled grandmother, pleased to be behind the times, with its worn hands folded.
I arrived there with only a small sum of money and the price of my return passage. I had limited my funds purposely, so that I might not be tempted8 to prolong my visit.
The day after my arrival my calculations were upset; I discovered that the Carpenter house was shut, and that Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter had not yet returned from the coast. This made me careful. I was unwilling9 to draw on my bank in London lest my whereabouts should be discovered, which would necessitate10 awkward explanations to my family and the association of Vi’s name with doubtful circumstances.
In my search for cheap lodgings11 I had a strange stroke of luck. Randall Carpenter’s house stood in an old-world street, which at this time of the year was a tunnel through foliage12. I waited until the gardeners had departed. Evening came; pushing open the gate, I entered the grounds.
I passed down a rough path under apple-trees, where fruit kept falling. In stables to the left, horses chafed13 in their stalls and snorted. To the right in the vegetable garden, birds of brilliant plumage flashed and darted14, and fat gray squirrels sat up quivering to watch me. Overhead, near and far, the air vibrated with incessant15 twittering. The golden haze16 of sunset was over everything; the whole world seemed enkindled. The path descended17 to low, flat meadows where haymaking was in progress. Farm implements18 stood carelessly about, ready for the morrow. In one field the hay was cocked, in another gathered, in a third the cutting had commenced. I told myself I was with her, and shivered at the aching loneliness of reality.
Circling the meadows was a narrow stream, which at a little distance joined the main river; on the farther side stood scattered19 cottages, with gardens straggling down a hill to its banks. In one of these a gray-haired woman was working. She wore a sunbonnet and print-dress of lavender. In my idleness I threw myself down in the grass and observed her. She grew conscious that she was being watched, and cast sly glances across her shoulder. At first I thought she was suspicious of my trespassing20; she came lower down the hill and nodded in shy friendly fashion.
“Good-evening,” I called to her over the stream.
She drew herself erect21 and eyed me. “Guess you’re a stranger?” she questioned, having found something foreign in my English accent.
I told her that I was, and then, for the sake of conversation, asked her if she knew of any rooms to rent. “Guess I do,” she called back, “me and my sisters have one room to spare.”
That was how I came to take lodgings with the three Misses Januaries. I paid them ten dollars weekly and had everything found. My room lay at the back; from my window I could see much of what went on in Randall Carpenter’s grounds.
From the three Misses Januaries I learnt many things. They were decayed ladies and eked22 out a livelihood23 by bringing home piece-work to do for the jewelry24 factories. Every other day Miss Priscilla, the eldest25, went to deliver the finished task and to take further orders. Miss Priscilla was proud, angular, and bent26. Miss Julia was round and jolly, but crippled with rheumatism27. Miss Lucy, the youngest, had a weak spine28 and was never dressed; day after day she lay between white sheets dreamily smiling, small as a child, making hardly any mound29 in the bed.
At first they hid from me the fact that they worked. Then they pretended that they did it to occupy their leisure. Sewing was so useless, Miss Priscilla said. At last they admitted the truth to the extent of letting me sit with them in Miss Lucy’s bedroom, even allowing me to help them with the fastening of the interminable links that went to the making of one chain-bag.
It was during these meetings that they gossiped of their neighbors and themselves. By delicate manouvering I would lead the conversation round to Vi. I found that for them Sheba was the one and only town, and Randall Carpenter was its richest citizen. He stood behind all its thriving institutions. He was president of the Sheba National Bank. He had controlling interest in the jewelry factory. He owned the cotton-works. He had been Senator at Washington. Vi was the social leader and the mirror of local fashion. They spoke30 of her as though she embodied31 for them all that is meant by romance. They told me the story, which I had already heard, of how Randall Carpenter had saved her father from ruin.
While such matters were being discussed and fresh details added, Miss Lucy would smile up at the ceiling, with her thin arms stretched straight out and her fingers plucking at the coverlet. I discovered later that long years before, Randall Carpenter had kept company with her; then her spine trouble had commenced and their money had gone from them, and it had been ended. As a middle-aged32 bachelor he had married Vi, and now Miss Lucy re-lived her own girlhood in listening to stories of Vi’s reported happiness.
Three weeks after my arrival in Sheba Vi returned. The evening before I had seen from my window that lights had sprung up in the house; early next morning I saw Dorrie in the garden, a white, diminutive33, butterfly figure fluttering beneath the boughs35. After breakfast I saw Vi come out, walking with a portly man. An eighth of a mile separated us—by listening intently I could hear her voice when she called, “Dorrie, Dorrie.”
Twice I came near to her, though she did not know it. One Sunday morning I waited till service had commenced, and followed her to church. I slipped into a seat at the back. There were few people present. From where I sat I could get a clear view of her and her husband across empty pews. Mr. Carpenter was a squarely-built, kindly-looking man—unimaginative and mildly corpulent. His face was clean-shaven and ruddy. He had an air of benevolent36 prosperity; his hair was grizzled, the top of his head was bald and polished. When he offered me the plate in taking the collection, I noticed that his fingers were podgy. I remembered Vi’s continually reiterated37 assertion that he was so kind to her. I knew what she had meant—kind, but lacking subtlety38 in expressing the affections. I judged that he was the sort of person to whom life had scattered largesse—he had never been tested, and consequently accepted all good fortune as something merited. His wide shrewd eyes had a steely gleam of justice; the puckered39 eye-lids promised humor. He was lovable rather than likable—a big boy, a mixture of na?ve self-complacency and masterfulness. Before the benediction40 was pronounced, I left.
This was the first time I had seen him at close quarters. I had come prepared to find faults in the man; I was surprised at my lack of anger. His comfortable amiability41 disarmed42 me.
The second time I came near to her was at nightfall. It was November. A touch of frost had nipped the leaves to blood-red; the Indian Summer had commenced. The air was pungent43 with the walnut44 fragrance45 of decaying foliage; violet mist trailed in shreds46 from thickets47, like a woman’s scarf torn from her throat in the passage. I had wandered out into the country. An aimless restlessness was on me—a sense of defiant48 self-dissatisfaction.
Occupied with my thoughts, I was strolling moodily49 along with hands in pockets, when I chanced to look up. She was coming down the road towards me. She was alone; her trim, clean-cut figure made a silhouette50 against the twilight51. She was whistling like a boy as she approached; her skirt was short to the ankles; she carried a light cane52 in her hand. I wanted to stand still till she had come up with me and then to catch her in my arms before she was aware. For a moment I halted irresolute53; then I turned into the woods to the left.
I could not understand how she could be so near to me and not know it. It seemed to me that I would raise clenched54 hands against the coffin-lid, were she to approach me, though I was buried deep underground.
As the year drew towards a close my uncertainty55 of mind became a torture. I knew that I ought to return to England; I was breaking the promise I had made to myself. My friends must be getting anxious. By this time Sir Charles must have heard of my disappearance56. I was imperiling my future by stopping. Worse still, the longer I lived near Vi, the more difficult was I making it for myself to take up the threads of my old life without her. I continually set dates for my departure, and I continually postponed57 them. At last I booked my passage some way ahead for the first week in January. In order to prevent myself from altering my decision, I told Miss Priscilla that I was going.
I fought a series of never finished battles with myself. As the time of my respite58 shortened, I grew frenzied59. Was I to go away forever without speaking to her? Was I to give her no sign of my presence? Was I to let her think that I had forgotten her and had ceased to care? I kept myself awake of nights on purpose to make my respite go further; from where I lay on the pillow with my face turned to the snow-covered meadows, I could see the blur60 which was her house. Sometimes in the darkness, when one loses all standards, I determined61 to risk everything and go to her. With morning I mastered myself and saw clearly—to go to her would be basest selfishness.
In one of my long tramps I had come upon a pond in a secluded62 stretch of woodland on the outskirts63 of Sheba. On the last evening before my departure I remembered it. I was in almost hourly fear of myself—afraid that I would seek her out. I planned diversions of thought and action for my physical self, so that my will might keep it in subjection. This evening, when I was at a loss what to do, the inclination64 occurred to go there skating.
As I walked along the road, sleighs slid by with bells jingling65. The merry golden windows of white houses in white fields brought a sense of peacefulness. The night was blue-black; the sky was starry66; the air had that deceptive67 dryness which hides its coldness. Beneath the woods trees cast intricate sprawling68 traceries of shadows. Every now and then the frozen silence was shattered by the snapping of some overladen bough34; then the whole wood shook and shivered as though it were spun69 from glassy threads.
Picking my way through bushes, I came to the edge of the pond and sat down to adjust my skates. It was perhaps four hundred yards in extent and curved in the middle, so that one could not see from end to end. To the right grew a plantation70 of firs almost large enough for cutting; on the other three sides lay tangled71 swamp and brushwood.
I had risen to my feet and was on the point of striking out, when I heard a sound which was unmistakable, rrh! rrh! rrh!—the sharp ring of skates cutting against ice.
From a point above me at the edge of the fir-grove a figure darted out and vanished round the bend. The moon was just rising; behind bars of tall trunks I could see its pale disk shining—the pond had not yet caught its light.
I felt foolishly angry and disappointed that I was not to have my last evening to myself. I was jealous that some stranger, to whom it would lack the same intensity72, should share this memory. Unreasonable73 chagrin74 held me hesitant; I was minded to steal away unnoticed.
The intruder had reached the far end of the pond—there was silence. Then the rrh! rrh! rrh! commenced again, coming back. I set out to meet it; it was eerie75 for two people to be within earshot, but out of sight in that still solitude76. We swung round the corner together; the moon peered above the tree-tops. For an instant we were face to face, staring into one another’s eyes; then our impetus77 carried us apart into the dusk.
I listened, and heard nothing but the brittle78 shuddering79 of icicles as boughs strained up to free themselves. Stealing back round the bend, I came upon her standing80 fixed81 and silent; as I approached her, she spread her hands before her eyes in a gesture of terror.
“Vi, Vi,” I whispered, “it’s Dante.”
She muttered to herself in choking, babbling82 fashion.
When I had put my arms about her, she ceased to speak, but her body was shaken with sobbing83. She made no sound, but a deep convulsive trembling ran through her. I talked to her soothingly84, trying to convince her I was real. Slowly she relaxed against me sighing, and trusted herself to look up at me, letting her fingers wander over my face and hands. I had brought her the bitterness of remembrance. Stooping, I kissed her mouth. “Just once,” I pleaded, “after all these months of loneliness. I’m going to-morrow.”
“You must,” she said, freeing herself from my embrace and clasping her arms about my neck; “oh, it’s wrong, but I’ve wanted you so badly.”
I led her to the edge of the pond and removed her skates. The moon had now sailed above the spear-topped firs and the ice was a silver mirror. Walking through the muffled85 woods I told her of my coming to Sheba, of the window from which I had watched her, and of all that had happened. From her I learnt that she also had been going through the same struggle between duty and desire ever since we parted.
“Sometimes I felt that it was no use,” she said; “I couldn’t fight any longer—I must write or come to you. Then something would happen; I would read or hear of a woman who had done it, and in the revulsion I felt I realized how other people would feel about myself. And I saw how it would spoil Randall’s life, and especially what it would mean to Dorrie. You can’t tell your personal excuses to the world; it just judges you wholesale86 by what you do, and I couldn’t bear that. It’s so easy to slip into temptation, Dante, especially our kind of temptation; because we love one another, anything we might do seems good. You can only see what sin really is when you picture it in the lives of others.”
We were walking apart now; she had withdrawn87 her arm from mine. “I shall always love you,” I said.
“And I you.”
“I shall never marry any other woman,” I told her; “I shall wait for you.”
“Poor boy,” she murmured, “it isn’t even right for you to think of that.”
Then, because there were things we dared not mention, we fell to talking about Dorrie, how she was growing, how she was losing her lisp, and all the tender little coaxing88 ways she had of making people happy.
We came out of the woods on the road which led back to Sheba. The lights twinkling ahead and the occasional travelers passing, robbed us of the danger of being alone together. I think she had been waiting for that.
“Dante,” she said, smiling at me bravely, “there is only one thing for you to do—you must marry.”
“Marry,” I exclaimed, “some woman whom I don’t love!”
“Not that,” she said; “but many men learn to love a second woman. I’ve often thought you should be happy with Ruthita; you love her already. After you had had children, you’d soon forget me. You’d be able to smile about it. Then it would be easier for me to forget.”
My answer was a tortured whisper. “It’s impossible; I’m not made like that. For my own peace of mind I almost wish I were.”
We came to the gate of her house. Across the snow, beneath the gloom of elms lighted windows smote89 the darkness with bars of gold. Within one of the rooms a man was stirring; he came to the panes90 and looked out, watching for her return.
“He’s always like that; he can’t bear to be without me. I had one of my moods this evening, when I want to be alone—he knew it.”
“When you wanted to think of me; that’s what you meant—why didn’t you say it?”
“One daren’t say these things, when they’re saying good-by, perhaps for ever.”
She had her hand on the gate, preparing to enter; we neither of us knew what to say at parting. The things that were in my heart I must not utter, and all other things seemed trivial. I looked from her to the burly figure framed in the glowing window. I pitied him with the proud pity of youth for age, a pity which is half cruel. After all, she loved me and we had our years before us. We could afford disappointment, we whose lives were mostly in the future; his life was two-thirds spent, and his years were running out.
Looking up the path in his direction, I asked, “Shall you tell him?”
“He has known for a year; it was only fair.”
“And he was angry? He blamed you?”
“He was sorry. I wish he had blamed me. He blames himself, which is the hardest thing I have to bear.”
“Vi,” I said, “he’s a good man—better than I am. You must learn to love him.”
She held out her hand quickly; her voice was muffled. “Good-night, my dearest, and good-by.”
The gate clanged. As she ran up the path, I saw that her husband had moved from the window. He opened the door to her; in the lighted room I saw him put his arms about her. By the way she looked up at him and he bent over her, I knew she was confessing.
Then I shambled down the road, feeling very old and tired. I was so tired that I hardly knew how to finish my packing; I was cold, bitterly cold. I dragged myself to bed; in order to catch the boat in Boston, I had to make an early start next morning. My teeth were chattering91 and my flesh was burning. Several times in the night I caught myself speaking aloud, saying stupid, tangled things about Vi. Then I thought that what I had said had been overheard. I shouted angrily to them to go away, declaring, that I had not meant what I said.
When my eyes closed, the stars were going out. “It will soon be morning,” I told myself; “I must get up and dress.”
I tried to get up, but my head would stick to the pillow and my body refused to work. “That’s queer,” I thought; “never mind, I’ll try later.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
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： |
|
|
|
|
3
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
piazza
|
|
| n.广场；走廊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
croaking
|
|
| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
indigo
|
|
| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
orchards
|
|
| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
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： |
|
|
|
|
9
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
necessitate
|
|
| v.使成为必要，需要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
chafed
|
|
| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
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： |
|
|
|
|
15
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
implements
|
|
| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
trespassing
|
|
| [法]非法入侵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
eked
|
|
| v.（靠节省用量）使…的供应持久( eke的过去式和过去分词 )；节约使用；竭力维持生计；勉强度日 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
livelihood
|
|
| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
jewelry
|
|
| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
rheumatism
|
|
| n.风湿病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
spine
|
|
| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
mound
|
|
| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
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： |
|
|
|
|
31
embodied
|
|
| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
diminutive
|
|
| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
bough
|
|
| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
boughs
|
|
| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
benevolent
|
|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
reiterated
|
|
| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
subtlety
|
|
| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
puckered
|
|
| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
benediction
|
|
| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
amiability
|
|
| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
disarmed
|
|
| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
pungent
|
|
| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
walnut
|
|
| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
fragrance
|
|
| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
shreds
|
|
| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
thickets
|
|
| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
defiant
|
|
| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
moodily
|
|
| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
silhouette
|
|
| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
cane
|
|
| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
irresolute
|
|
| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
clenched
|
|
| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
uncertainty
|
|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
postponed
|
|
| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
respite
|
|
| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
frenzied
|
|
| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
blur
|
|
| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
secluded
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
outskirts
|
|
| n.郊外，郊区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
jingling
|
|
| 叮当声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
starry
|
|
| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
deceptive
|
|
| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
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： |
|
|
|
|
69
spun
|
|
| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
plantation
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
tangled
|
|
| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
chagrin
|
|
| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
eerie
|
|
| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
impetus
|
|
| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
brittle
|
|
| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
shuddering
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
babbling
|
|
| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
soothingly
|
|
| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
muffled
|
|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
wholesale
|
|
| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
coaxing
|
|
| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
smote
|
|
| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
panes
|
|
| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
chattering
|
|
| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |