A slender young moon drifted like a curled petal2 in the dusky blue of the calm sky, its pale light faintly outlining the tops of the trees and the dim, gracious curves of distant hills, and touching3 the mist that filled the valleys to a nebulous, pearly glimmer4, so that to Jean’s eager eyes the foot of the hills seemed laved by some phantom5 sea of faery.
She felt no inclination6 to talk. The smooth rhythm of the pulsing car, the chill sweetness of the evening air against her face, the shadowy, half-revealed landscape all combined to lull7 her into a mood of tranquil8 appreciation9, aloof10 and restful after the fatigue11 of her journey and the shock of her unexpected meeting with the Englishman from Montavan. She knew that later she would have to take up the thread of things again, adjust her mind to the day’s surprising developments, but just for the moment she was content to let everything else slide and simply enjoy this first exquisite12 revelation of twilit Devon.
For a long time they drove in silence, Tormarin seeming no more disposed to talk than she herself.
Presently, however, he slowed the car down and, half-turning in his seat, addressed her abruptly13.
“This is somewhat in the nature of an anti-climax,” he remarked, the comment quite evidently springing from the thoughts which had been absorbing him.
He spoke15 curtly17, as though he resented the march of events.
Jean felt herself jolted19 suddenly out of the placid20 reverie into which she had fallen.
“Yes. It is odd we should meet again so soon,” she assented21 hurriedly.
“The silence has been broken—after all! You may be sure, Miss Peterson, it was by no will of mine.”
Jean smiled under cover of the darkness.
“You’re not very complimentary,” she returned. “I’m sorry our meeting seems to afford you so little satisfaction.” There was a ripple22 of laughter in her tones.
“It’s not that.” As he spoke, he slackened speed until the car was barely moving. “You know it’s not that,” he continued, his voice tense. “But, all the same, I’m going to ask you to—forget Montavan.”
Jean’s heart gave a violent throb23, and the laughter went suddenly out of her voice as she repeated blankly:
“To forget Montavan?”
“Please. I said—and did—a few mad things that day we spent together. It was to be an uncounted day, you know, and—oh, well, the air of the Alps is heady! I want you to forgive me—and to blot24 out all remembrance of it.”
He seemed to speak with some effort, yet each word was uttered deliberately25, searing its way into her consciousness like red-hot iron.
The curt16, difficultly spoken sentences could only signify one thing—that he had meant nothing, not even good, honest comradeship, that day at Montavan. He had merely been amusing himself with a girl whom he never expected to meet again, and now that circumstances had so unexpectedly brought them together he was clearly anxious that she should be under no misapprehension in the matter.
Jean’s pride writhed26 beneath the insult of it. It was as though he feared she might make some claim upon his regard and had hastened to warn her, almost in so many words, not to set a fictitious27 value upon anything that had occurred between them. The glamour28 was indeed torn from her stolen day on the mountains! The whole memory of it, above all the memory of that pulsing moment of farewell, would henceforth he soiled and vulgarised—converted into a rather sordid29 little episode which she would gladly have blotted30 out from amongst the concrete happenings of life.
The feminine instinct against self-betrayal whipped her into quick speech.
“I’ve no wish to forget that you practically saved my life,” she said. “I shall always”—lightly—“feel very much obliged for that.”
“You exaggerate my share in the matter,” he replied carelessly. “You would have extricated31 yourself from your difficulties without my assistance, I have no doubt. Or, more truly”—with a short laugh—“you would never have got into them.”
He said no more, but let out the car and they shot forward into the gathering32 dusk. Presently they approached a pair of massive iron gates admitting to the manor33 drive, and as these were opened in response to a shrill34 hoot35 from Tormarin’s horn the car swung round into an avenue of elms, the bare boughs36, interlacing overhead, making a black network against the moonlit sky.
Still in silence they approached the house, its dim grey bulk, looming37 indeterminately through the evening mist, studded here and there with a glowing shield of orange from come unshaded window, and almost before Tormarin had pulled up the car, the front door flew open and a wide riband of light streamed out from the hall behind.
Jean was conscious of two or three figures grouped in the open doorway38, dark against the welcoming blaze of light, then one of them detached itself from the group and hastened forward with outstretched hands.
“Here you are at last!”
For an instant Jean hesitated, doubtful as to whether the speaker could be Lady Anne. The voice which addressed her was so amazingly young—clear and full of vitality39 like the voice of a girl. Then the light flickered40 on to hair as white as if it had been powdered, and she realized that this surprisingly young voice must belong to her hostess.
“I was so sorry I could not meet you at the station myself,” continued Lady Anne, leading the way into the house. “But a tiresome41 visitor turned up—one of those people who never know when it’s time to go—and I simply couldn’t get away without forcibly ejecting her.”
In the fuller light of the hall, Jean discerned in Lady Anne’s appearance something of that same quality of inherent youth apparent in her voice. The keen, humorous grey eyes beneath their black, arched brows were alertly vivacious42, and the quite white hair served to enhance, rather than otherwise, the rose-leaf texture43 of her skin. Many a much younger woman had envied Lady Anne her complexion44; it was so obviously genuine, owing nothing at all to art.
“And now”—Jean felt herself pulled gently into the tight—“let me have a good look at you. Oh, yes!”—Lady Anne laughed amusedly—“You’re Glyn Peterson’s daughter right enough—you have just his chin with that delicious little cleft45 in it. But your eyes and hair are Jacqueline’s.” She leaned forward a little and kissed Jean warmly. “My dear, you’re very welcome at Staple46. There is nothing I could have wished more than to have you here—except that you could have prevailed upon Glyn to bring you himself.”
“When you have quite finished going into the ancestral details of Miss Peterson’s features, madonna, perhaps you will present me.”
Lady Anne laughed good-humouredly.
“Oh, this is my pushful younger son, Jean. (I’m certainly going to call you Jean without asking whether I may!) You’ve already made acquaintance with Blaise. This is Nick.”
Nick Brennan was as unlike his half-brother as he could possibly be—tall, and fair, and blue-eyed, with a perfectly47 charming smile and an air of not having a care in the world. Jean concluded he must resemble closely the dead Claude Brennan, since, except for a certain family similarity in cut of feature, he bore little resemblance to his mother.
“Blaise has had an hour’s start of me in getting into your good graces, Miss Peterson,” he said, shaking hands. “I consider it very unfair, but of course I had to be content—as usual—with the younger son’s portion.”
Jean liked him at once. His merry, lazy blue eyes smiled friendship at her, and she felt sure they should get on together. She could not imagine Nick “glooming” about the world, as one of the women at the hotel had declared his half-brother did.
It occurred to her that it would simplify matters if both he and Lady Anne were made aware at once of her former meeting with Blaise, so she took the opportunity offered by Nick’s speech.
“He’s had more than that,” she said gaily48. “Mr. Tor-marin and I had already met before—at Montavan.”
“At Montavan?” Lady Anne gave vent18 to an ejaculation of amused impatience49. “If we had only known! Blaise could have accompanied you back and saved you all the bothersome details of the journey. But we had no idea where he was. He went off in his usual way”—smiling a shade ruefully—“merely condescending51 to inform his yearning52 family that he was going abroad for a few weeks.” Then, as Tormarin, having surrendered the car to a chauffeur53, joined the group in the hall, she turned to him and continued with a faint note of expostulation in her voice: “You never told us you had already met Miss Peterson, Blaise.”
“I didn’t know it myself till I found her marooned54 on the platform at Coombe Eavie,” he returned. His eyes, meeting Jean’s, flickered with brief amusement as he added nonchalantly: “I did not catch Miss Peterson’s name when we met at Montavan.”
“No, we were not formally introduced,” supplemented Jean. “But Mr. Tormarin was obliging enough to pull me out of an eight-foot deep snowdrift up in the mountains, so we allowed that to count instead.”
“What luck!” exclaimed Nick with fervour.
“Yes, it was rather,” agreed Jean. “To be smothered55 in a snowdrift isn’t exactly the form of extinction56 I should choose.”
“Oh, I meant luck for Blaise,” explained Nick. “Opportunities of playing knight-errant are few and far between nowadays”—regretfully.
They all laughed, and then Lady Anne carried Jean off upstairs.
Here she found that a charming bedroom, with a sitting-room57 connecting, had been allotted58 her—“so that you’ll have a den14 of your own to take refuge in when you’re tired of us,” as Lady Anne explained.
Jean felt touched by the kindly59 thought. It takes the understanding hostess to admit frankly60 that a guest may sometimes crave61 for the solitude62 of her own company—and to see that she can get it.
The rooms which were to constitute Jean’s personal domain63 were delightfully64 decorated, old-world tapestries65 and some beautiful old prints striking just the right note in conjunction with the waxen-smooth mahogany of Chippendale. From the bedroom, where a maid was already busying herself unstrapping the traveller’s manifold boxes, there opened off a white-tiled bathroom frankly and hygienically modern, and here Jean was soon splashing joyfully66. By the time she had finished her bath and dressed for dinner she felt as though the fatigue of the journey had slipped from her like an outworn garment.
The atmosphere at dinner was charmingly informal, and presently, when the meal was at an end, the party of four adjourned67 into the hall for coffee. As Jean’s eyes roved round the old-fashioned, raftered place, she was conscious of a little intimate thrill of pleasure. With its walls panelled in Jacobean oak, and its open hearth68 where a roaring fire of logs sent blue and green flames leaping up into the chimney’s cavernous mouth, it reminded her of the great dining-hall at Beirnfels. But here there was a pleasant air of English cosiness69, and it was obvious that at Staple the hall had been adopted as a living-room and furnished with an eye to comfort. There were wide, cushioned window-seats, and round the hearth clustered deep, inviting70 chairs, while everywhere were the little, pleasant, home-like evidences—an open book flung down here, a piece of unfinished needlework there—of daily use and occupation.
Nick at once established himself at Jean’s side, kindly informing her that now that his inner man was satisfied he was prepared to make himself agreeable. Upon which Lady Anne apologised for his manners and Nick interrupted her, volubly pointing out that the fault, if any (which he denied), was entirely71 hers, since she had been responsible both for his upbringing and inherited tendencies. They both talked at once, wrangling72 together with huge zest73 and enjoyment74, and it was easily apparent that the two were very close friends indeed.
Blaise took no part in the stream of chatter75 and nonsense which ensued, but stood a little apart, his shoulder propped76 against the chimney-piece, drinking his coffee in silence.
Jean’s glance wandered reflectively from one brother to the other. They presented a striking contrast—the stern, dark-browed face of the elder man, with its bitter-looking mouth and that strange white streak77 lying like some, ghostly finger-mark across his dark hair, and the bubbling, blue-eyed charm of the younger. The difference between them was as definite as the difference between sunlight and shadow.
Nick was full of plans for Jean’s entertainment, suggestions for boating and tennis occupying a prominent position in the programme he sketched78 out.
“It’s really quite jolly paddling about on our lake,” he rattled79 on. “The stream that feeds it hails from Dartmoor, of course. All Devonshire streams do, I believe—at least, you’ll never hear of one that doesn’t, the Moor80 being our proudest possession. Besides, people always believe that your water supply must be of crystalline purity if you just casually81 mention that its source is a Dartmoor spring. So of course, we all swear to the Dartmoor origin of our domestic waterworks. It sounds well—even if not always strictly82 true.”
“Miss Peterson must find it a trifle difficult to follow your train of thought,” commented Blaise a little sharply. “A moment ago you were discussing boating, and now it sounds as though you’ll shortly involve yourself—and us—in a disquisition upon hygiene83.”
Nick smiled placidly84.
“My enthusiasm got away with me a bit,” he admitted with unruffled calm. “But I haven’t the least doubt that Miss Peterson will like to know these few reassuring85 particulars. However——” And he forthwith returned enthusiastically to the prospects86 of tennis and kindred pastimes.
Once again Blaise broke in ungraciously. It seemed as though, for some reason, Nick’s flow of light-hearted nonsense and the dozen different plans he was proposing for Jean’s future divertisement, irritated him.
“Your suggestions seem to me remarkably87 inept88, Nick,” he observed scathingly, “seeing that at present it is midwinter and the lake frozen over about a foot deep. Quite conceivably, by the time that tennis and boating become practicable, Miss Peterson may not be here. She may get tired of us long before the summer comes,” he added quickly, as though in a belated endeavour to explain away the suggestion of inhospitality which might easily be inferred from his previous sentence.
But if the hasty addition were intended to reassure89 Jean, it failed of its purpose. The idea that her coming to Staple was not particularly acceptable to its master had already taken possession, of her. Originally the consequence of the conversation she had overheard at the hotel, Tormarin’s reluctantly given welcome when he met her at Coombe Eavie Station had served to increase her feeling of embarrassment90 And now, this last speech, though so hastily qualified91, convinced her that her advent92 was regarded by her host in anything but a pleasurable light.
“Yes, I don’t think you must count on me for the tennis season, Mr. Brennan,” she said quickly, “I don’t propose to billet myself on you indefinitely, you know.”
“Oh, but I hope you do, my dear,” Lady Anne interposed with a simple sincerity93 there was no doubting. “You must certainly stay with us till your father comes home, and”—with a smile—“unless Glyn has altered considerably94, I imagine Beirnfels will not see him again under a year.”
“But I couldn’t possibly foist95 myself on to you for a year!” exclaimed Jean. “That would be a sheer imposition.”
Lady Anne smiled across at her.
“My dear,” she said, “I’ve never had a daughter—only these two great, unmanageable sons—and I’m just longing96 to play at having one. You’re not going to disappoint me, I hope?”
There was something irresistibly97 winning in Lady Anne’s way of putting the matter, and Jean jumped up and kissed her impulsively99.
“I should hate to!” she answered warmly.
But she evaded100 giving a direct promise; there must be a clearer understanding between herself and Tormarin before she could accept Lady Anne’s hospitality as frankly and fully50 as it was offered.
The opportunity for this clearer understanding came with the entry of Baines, the butler, who brought the information that a favourite young setter of Nick’s had been taken ill and that the stableman feared the dog had distemper.
Nick sprang up, his concern showing in his face.
“I’ll come out and have a look at him,” he said quickly.
“I’ll come with you,” added Lady Anne.
She slipped her hand through his arm, and they hurried off to the stables, leaving Blaise and Jean alone together.
For a moment neither spoke. Blaise, smoking a cigarette, remained staring sombrely into the fire. Apparently101 he did not regard it as incumbent102 on him to make conversation, and Jean felt miserably104 nervous about broaching105 the subject of her visit. At last, however, fear lest Lady Anne and Nick should return before she could do so drove her into speech.
“Mr. Tormarin,” she said quietly—so quietly that none would have guessed the flurry of shyness which underlay106 her cool little voice—“I am very sorry my presence here is so unwelcome to you. I’m afraid you will have to put up with me for a week or two, but I promise you I will try to make other arrangements as soon as I can.”
He turned towards her abruptly.
“May I ask what you mean?” he demanded. It was evident from the haughty107, almost arrogant108 tone of his voice that something had aroused his anger, though whether it was the irritation109 consequent upon her presence there, or because he chose to take her speech as censuring110 his attitude, Jean was unable to determine. His eyes were stormy and inwardly she quailed111 a little beneath their glance; outwardly, however, she retained her composure.
“I think my meaning is perfectly clear,” she returned with spirit. “Even at the station you made it quite evident that my appearance came upon you in the light of an unpleasant surprise. And—from what you said just now to Mr. Brennan—it is obvious you hope my visit will not be a long one.”
If she had anticipated spurring him into an impulsive98 disclaimer, she was disappointed.
“I am sorry I have failed so lamentably112 in my duties as host,” he said coldly.
The apology, uttered with such an entire lack of ardour, served to emphasise113 the offence for which it professed114 to ask pardon. Jean’s face whitened. She would hardly have felt more hurt and astonished if he had struck her.
“I—I——” she began. Then stopped, finding her voice unsteady.
But he had heard the break in the low, shaken tones, and in a moment his mood of intolerant anger vanished.
“Forgive me,” he said remorsefully—and there was genuine contrition115 in his voice now. “I’m a cross-grained fellow, Miss Peterson; you’ll find that out before you’ve been here many days. But never think that you are unwelcome at Staple.”
“Then why—I don’t understand you,” she stammered116. She found his sudden changes of humour bewildering.
He smiled down at her, that rare, strangely sweet smile of his which when it came always seemed to transform his face, obliterating117 the harsh sternness of its lines.
“Perhaps I don’t quite understand, either,” he said gently. “Only I know it would have been better if you had never come to Staple.”
“Then—you wish I hadn’t come?”
“Yes,”—slowly. “I think I do wish that.”
She looked at him a little wistfully.
“Is that why you were angry—because I’ve come here? Lady Anne and—and Mr. Brennan seemed quite pleased,” she added as though in protest.
“No doubt. Nick, lucky devil, has no need to economise in magic moments.”
She felt her cheeks flush under the look he bent103 upon her, but she forced herself to meet it.
“And—and you?” she questioned very low.
“I have”—briefly.
It was long before sleep visited Jean that night The events of the day marched processionally through her mind, and her thoughts persisted in clustering round the baffling, incomprehensible personality of Blaise Tormarin.
His extreme bitterness of speech she ascribed to the unfortunate episode that lay in his past. But she could find no reason for his strange, expressed wish to disregard their former meeting at Montavan—to wipe out, as it were, all recollection of it.
That he did not dislike her she felt sure; and a woman rarely makes a mistake over a man’s personal attitude towards her. But for some reason, it seemed to her, he was afraid to let himself like her! It was as though he were anxious to bolt and bar the door against any possibility of friendship between them. From whichever way she looked at it, she could find no key to the mystery of his behaviour. It was inexplicable118.
Only one thing emerged from the confusion of thought; the lost glamour of that night at Montavan had returned—returned with fresh impulse and persuasiveness119. And when at last she fell asleep, it was with the beseeching120, soul-haunting melody of Valse Triste crying in her ears.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
petal
|
|
| n.花瓣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
glimmer
|
|
| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
phantom
|
|
| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
lull
|
|
| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
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： |
|
|
|
|
16
curt
|
|
| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
curtly
|
|
| adv.简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
vent
|
|
| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
jolted
|
|
| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
ripple
|
|
| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
throb
|
|
| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
blot
|
|
| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
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： |
|
|
|
|
27
fictitious
|
|
| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
glamour
|
|
| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
blotted
|
|
| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
extricated
|
|
| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
manor
|
|
| n.庄园，领地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
hoot
|
|
| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
boughs
|
|
| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
looming
|
|
| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
vitality
|
|
| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
tiresome
|
|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
vivacious
|
|
| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
texture
|
|
| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
cleft
|
|
| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
staple
|
|
| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
gaily
|
|
| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
condescending
|
|
| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
chauffeur
|
|
| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
marooned
|
|
| adj.被围困的；孤立无援的；无法脱身的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
smothered
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
extinction
|
|
| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
allotted
|
|
| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
crave
|
|
| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
domain
|
|
| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
delightfully
|
|
| 大喜，欣然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
tapestries
|
|
| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
joyfully
|
|
| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
adjourned
|
|
| （使）休会， （使）休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
cosiness
|
|
| n.舒适，安逸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
inviting
|
|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
wrangling
|
|
| v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
zest
|
|
| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
propped
|
|
| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
streak
|
|
| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
sketched
|
|
| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
moor
|
|
| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
casually
|
|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
hygiene
|
|
| n.健康法，卫生学 （a.hygienic） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
placidly
|
|
| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
reassuring
|
|
| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
inept
|
|
| adj.不恰当的，荒谬的，拙劣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
reassure
|
|
| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
qualified
|
|
| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
advent
|
|
| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
foist
|
|
| vt.把…强塞给，骗卖给 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
irresistibly
|
|
| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
impulsive
|
|
| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
impulsively
|
|
| adv.冲动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
evaded
|
|
| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
incumbent
|
|
| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
miserably
|
|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
broaching
|
|
| n.拉削；推削；铰孔；扩孔v.谈起( broach的现在分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
underlay
|
|
| v.位于或存在于（某物）之下( underlie的过去式 )；构成…的基础（或起因），引起n.衬垫物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
arrogant
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
censuring
|
|
| v.指责，非难，谴责( censure的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
quailed
|
|
| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
lamentably
|
|
| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
emphasise
|
|
| vt.加强...的语气，强调，着重 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
contrition
|
|
| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
obliterating
|
|
| v.除去( obliterate的现在分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
inexplicable
|
|
| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
persuasiveness
|
|
| 说服力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
beseeching
|
|
| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |