Ted1 and Amy Milner came to see the man who had shot and killed Amy's first husband, the well-known writer Morton Rainey, about three months after the events at Tashmore Lake.
They had seen the man at one other time during the three-month period, at the inquest, but that had been a formal situation, and Amy had not wanted to speak to him personally. Not there. She was grateful that he had saved her life ... but Mort had been her husband, and she had loved him for many years, and in her deepest heart she felt that Fred Evans's finger hadn't been the only one which pulled the trigger.
She would have come in time anyway, she suspected, in order to clarify it as much as possible in her mind. Her time might have been a year, or two, possibly even three. But things had happened in the meanwhile which made her move more quickly. She had hoped Ted would let her come to New York alone, but he was emphatic3. Not after the last time he had let her go someplace alone. That time she had almost gotten killed.
Amy pointed4 out with some asperity5 that it would have been hard for Ted to 'let her go,' since she had never told him she was going in the first place, but Ted only shrugged6. So they went to New York together, rode up to the fifty-third floor of a large skyscraper7 together, and were together shown to the small cubicle8 in the offices of the Consolidated9 Assurance Company which Fred Evans called home during the working day . unless he was in the field, of course.
She sat as far into the corner as she could get, and although the offices were quite warm, she kept her shawl wrapped around her.
Evans's manner was slow and kind - he seemed to her almost like the country doctor who had nursed her through her childhood illnesses - and she liked him. But that's something he'll never know, she thought. I might be able to summon up the strength to tell him, and he would nod, but his nod wouldn't indicate belief. He only knows that to me he will always be the man who shot Mort, and he had to watch me cry on Mort's chest until the ambulance came, and one of the paramedics had to give me a shot before I would let him go. And what he won't know is that I like him just the same.
He buzzed a woman from one of the outer offices and had her bring in three big, steaming mugs of tea. It was January outside now, the wind high, the temperature low. She thought with some brief longing10 of how it would be in Tashmore, with the lake finally frozen and that killer11 wind blowing long, ghostly snakes of powdered snow across the ice. Then her mind made some obscure but nasty association, and she saw Mort hitting the floor, saw the package of Pall12 Malls skidding13 across the wood like a shuffleboard weight. She shivered, her brief sense of longing totally dispelled14.
'Are you okay, Mrs Milner?' Evans asked.
She nodded.
Frowning ponderously15 and playing with his pipe, Ted said, 'My wife wants to hear everything you know about what happened, Mr Evans. I tried to discourage her at first, but I've come to think that it might be a good thing. She's had bad dreams ever since
'Of course,' Evans said, not exactly ignoring Ted, but speaking directly to Amy. 'I suppose you will for a long time. I've had a few of my own, actually. I never shot a man before.' He paused, then added, 'I missed Vietnam by a year or so.'
Amy offered him a smile. It was wan2, but it was a smile.
'She heard it all at the inquest,' Ted went on, 'but she wanted to hear it again, from you, and with the legalese omitted.'
'I understand,' Evans said. He pointed at the pipe. 'You can light that, if you want to.'
Ted looked at it, then dropped it into the pocket of his coat quickly, as if he were slightly ashamed of it. 'I'm trying to give it up, actually.'
Evans looked at Amy. 'What purpose do you think this will serve?' he asked her in the same kind, rather sweet voice. 'Or maybe a better question would be what purpose do you need it to serve?'
'I don't know.' Her voice was low and composed. 'But we were in Tashmore three weeks ago, Ted and I, to clean the place out - we've put it up for sale - and something happened. Two things, actually.' She looked at her husband and offered the wan smile again. 'Ted knows something happened, because that's when I got in touch with you and made this appointment. But he doesn't know what, and I'm afraid he's put out with me. Perhaps he's right to be.'
Ted Milner did not deny that he was put out with Amy. His hand stole into his coat pocket, started to remove the pipe, and then let it drop back again.
'But these two things - they bear on what happened to your lake home in October?'
'I don't know. Mr Evans ... what did happen? How much do you know?'
'Well,' he said, leaning back in his chair and sipping16 from his mug, 'if you came expecting all the answers, you're going to be sorely disappointed. I can tell you about the fire, but as for why your husband did what he did ... you can probably fill in more of those blanks than I can. What puzzled us most about the fire was where it started - not in the main house but in Mr Rainey's office, which is an addition. That made the act seem directed against him, but he wasn't even there.
'Then we found a large chunk17 of bottle in the wreckage18 of the office. It had contained wine - champagne19, to be exact - but there wasn't any doubt that the last thing it had contained was gasoline. Part of the label was intact, and we sent a Fax copy to New York. It was identified as Moet et Chandon, nineteen-eighty-something. That wasn't proof indisputable that the bottle used for the Molotov cocktail20 came from your own wine room, Mrs Milner, but it was very persuasive21, since you listed better than a dozen bottles of Moet et Chandon, some from 1983 and some from 1984.
'This led us toward a supposition which seemed clear but not very sensible: that you or your ex-husband might have burned down your own house. Mrs Milner here said she went off and left the house unlocked - '
'I lost a lot of sleep over that,' Amy said. 'I often forgot to lock up when I was only going out for a little while. I grew up in a little town north of Bangor and country habits die hard. Mort used to . . .' Her lips trembled and she stopped speaking for a moment, pressing them together so tightly they turned white. When she had herself under control again, she finished her thought in a low voice. 'He used to scold me about it.'
Ted took her hand.
'It didn't matter, of course,' Evans said. 'If you had locked the house, Mr Rainey still could have gained access, because he still had his keys. Correct?'
'Yes,' Ted said.
'It might have sped up the detection end a little if you'd locked the door, but it's impossible to say for sure. Monday-morning quarterbacking is a vice22 we try to steer23 clear of in my business, anyway. There's a theory that it causes ulcers24, and that's one I subscribe25 to. The point is this: given Mrs Rainey's - excuse me, Mrs Milner's - testimony26 that the house was left unlocked, we at first believed the arsonist27 could have been literally28 anyone. But once we started playing around with the assumption that the bottle used had come from the cellar wine room, it narrowed things down.'
'Because that room was locked,' Ted said.
Evans nodded. 'Do you remember me asking who held keys to that room, Mrs Milner?'
'Call me Amy, won't you?'
He nodded. 'Do you remember, Amy?'
'Yes. We started locking the little wine closet three or four years ago, after some bottles of red table wine disappeared. Mort thought it was the housekeeper29. I didn't like to believe it, because I liked her, but I knew he could be right, and probably was. We started locking it then so nobody else would be tempted30.'
Evans looked at Ted Milner.
'Amy had a key to the wine room, and she believed Mr Rainey still had his. So that limited the possibilities. Of course, if it had been Amy, you would have had to have been in collusion with her, Mr Milner, since you were each other's alibis32 for that evening. Mr Rainey didn't have an alibi31, but he was at a considerable distance. And the main thing was this: we could see no motive33 for the crime. His work had left both Amy and himself financially comfortable. Nevertheless, we dusted for fingerprints34 and came up with two good ones. This was the day after we had our meeting in Derry. Both prints belonged to Mr Rainey. It still wasn't proof - '
'It wasn't?' Ted asked, looking startled.
Evans shook his head. 'Lab tests were able to confirm that the prints were made before what remained of the bottle was charred35 in the fire, but not how long before. The heat had cooked the oils in them, you see. And if our assumption that the bottle came from the wine room was correct, why, someone had to physically36 pick it up out of the bag or carton it came in and store it in its cradle. That someone would have been either Mr or Mrs Rainey, and he could have argued that that was where the prints came from.'
'He was in no shape to argue anything,' Amy said softly. 'Not at the end.'
'I guess that's true, but we didn't know that. All we knew is that when people carry bottles, they generally pick them up by the neck or the upper barrel. These two prints were near the bottom, and the angle was very odd.'
'As if he had been carrying it sideways or even upside down,' Ted broke in. 'Isn't that what you said at the hearing?'
'Yes - and people who know anything about wine don't do it. With most wines, it disturbs the sediment37. And with champagne
'It shakes it up,' Ted said.
Evans nodded. 'If you shake a bottle of champagne really hard, it will burst from the pressure.'
'But there was no champagne in it, anyway,' Amy said quietly.
'No. Still, it was not proof. I canvassed38 the area gas stations to see if anyone who looked like Mr Rainey had bought a small amount of gas that night, but had no luck. I wasn't too surprised; he could have bought the gasoline in Tashmore or at half a hundred service stations between the two places.
'Then I went to see Patricia Champion, our one witness. I took a picture of a 1986 Buick - the make and model we assumed Mr Rainey would have been driving. She said it might have been the car, but she still couldn't be sure. So I was up against it. I went back out to the house to look around, and you came, Amy. It was early morning. I wanted to ask you some questions, but you were clearly upset. I did ask you why you were there, and you said a peculiar39 thing. You said you were going down to Tashmore Lake to see your husband, but you came by first to look in the garden.'
'On the phone he kept talking about what he called my secret window ... the one that looked down on the garden. He said he'd left something there. But there wasn't anything. Not that I could see, anyway.'
'I had a feeling about the man when we met,' Evans said slowly. 'A feeling that he wasn't ... quite on track. It wasn't that he was lying about some things, although I was pretty sure he was. It was something else. A kind of distance.'
'Yes - I felt it in him more and more. That distance.'
'You looked almost sick with worry. I decided40 I could do worse than follow you down to the other house, Amy, especially when you told me not to tell Mr Milner here where you'd gone if he came looking for you. I didn't believe that idea was original with you. I thought I might just find something out. And I also thought . . .' He trailed off, looking bemused.
'You thought something might happen to me,' she said. 'Thank you, Mr Evans. He would have killed me, you know. If you hadn't followed me, he would have killed me.'
'I parked at the head of the driveway and walked down. I heard a terrific rumpus from inside the house and I started to run. That was when you more or less fell out through the screen door, and he came out after you.'
Evans looked at them both earnestly.
'I asked him to stop,' he said. 'I asked him twice.'
Amy reached out, squeezed his hand gently for a moment, then let it go.
'And that's it,' Evans said. 'I know a little more, mostly from the newspapers and two chats I had with Mr Milner
'Call me Ted.'
'Ted, then.' Evans did not seem to take to Ted's first name as easily as he had to Amy's. 'I know that Mr Rainey had what was probably a schizophrenic episode in which he was two people, and that neither one of them had any idea they were actually existing in the same body. I know that one of them was named John Shooter. I know from Herbert Creekmore's deposition41 that Mr Rainey imagined this Shooter was hounding him over a story called "Sowing Season," and that Mr Creekmore had a copy of the magazine in which that story appeared sent up so Mr Rainey could prove that he had published first. The magazine arrived shortly before you did, Amy - it was found in the house. The Federal Express envelope it came in was on the seat of your ex-husband's Buick.'
'But he cut the story out, didn't he?' Ted asked.
'Not just the story - the contents page as well. He was careful to remove every trace of himself. He carried a Swiss-army knife, and that was probably what he used. The missing pages were in the Buick's glove compartment42.'
'In the end, the existence of that story became a mystery even to him,' Amy said softly.
Evans looked at her, eyebrows43 raised. 'Beg pardon?'
She shook her head. 'Nothing.'
'I think I've told you everything I can,' Evans said. 'Anything else would be pure speculation44. I'm an insurance investigator45, after all, not a psychiatrist46.'
'He was two men,' Amy said. 'He was himself ... and he became a character he created. Ted believes that the last name, Shooter, was something
Mort picked up and stored in his head when he found out Ted came from a little town called Shooter's Knob, Tennessee. I'm sure he's right. Mort was always picking out character names just that way ... like anagrams, almost.
'I don't know the rest of it - I can only guess. I do know that when a film studio dropped its option on his novel The Delacourt Family, Mort almost had a nervous breakdown47. They made it clear - and so did Herb Creekmore - that they were concerned about an accidental similarity, and they understood he never could have seen the screenplay, which was called The Home Team. There was no question of plagiarism48 ... except in Mort's head. His reaction was exaggerated, abnormal. It was like stirring a stick around in what looks like a dead campfire and uncovering a live coal.'
'You don't think he created John Shooter just to punish you, do you?' Evans asked.
'No. Shooter was there to punish Mort. I think . She paused and adjusted her shawl, pulling it a little more tightly about her shoulders. Then she picked up her teacup with a hand which wasn't quite steady. 'I think that Mort stole somebody's work sometime in the past,' she said. 'Probably quite far in the past, because everything he wrote from The Organ-Grinder's Boy on was widely read. It would have come out, I think. I doubt that he even actually published what he stole. But I think that's what happened, and I think that's where John Shooter really came from. Not from the film company dropping his novel, or from my ... my time with Ted, and not from the divorce. Maybe all those things contributed, but I think the root goes back to a time before I knew him. Then, when he was alone at the lake house . . .'
'Shooter came,' Evans said quietly. 'He came and accused him of plagiarism. Whoever Mr Rainey stole from never did, so in the end he had to punish himself. But I doubt if that was all, Amy. He did try to kill you.'
'No,' she said. 'That was Shooter.'
He raised his eyebrows. Ted looked at her carefully, and then drew the pipe out of his pocket again.
'The real Shooter.'
'I don't understand you.'
She smiled her wan smile. 'I don't understand myself. That's why I'm here. I don't think telling this serves any practical purpose - Mort's dead, and it's over -but it may help me. It may help me to sleep better.'
'Then tell us, by all means,' Evans said.
'You see, when we went down to clean out the house, we stopped at the little store in town - Bowie's. Ted filled the gas tank - it's always been self-service at Bowie's - and I went in to get some things. There was a man in there, Sonny Trotts, who used to work with Tom Greenleaf. Tom was the older of the two caretakers who were killed. Sonny wanted to tell me how sorry he was about Mort, and he wanted to tell me something else, too, because he saw Mort the day before Mort died, and meant to tell him. So he said. It was about Tom Greenleaf - something Tom told Sonny while they were painting the Methodist Parish Hall together. Sonny saw Mort after that, but didn't think to tell him right away, he said. Then he remembered that it had something to do with Greg Carstairs
'The other dead man?'
'Yes. So he turned around and called, but Mort didn't hear him. And the next day, Mort was dead.'
'What did Mr Greenleaf tell this guy?'
'That he thought he might have seen a ghost,' Amy said calmly.
They looked at her, not speaking.
'Sonny said Tom had been getting forgetful lately, and that Tom was worried about it. Sonny thought it was no more than the ordinary sort of forgetfulness that settles in when a person gets a little older, but Tom had nursed his wife through Alzheimer's disease five or six years before, and he was terrified of getting it himself and going the same way. According to Sonny, if Tom forgot a paintbrush, he spent half the day obsessing49 about it. Tom said that was why, when Greg Carstairs asked him if he recognized the man he'd seen Mort Rainey talking to the day before, or if he would recognize him if he saw him again, Tom said he hadn't seen anyone with Mort - that Mort had been alone.'
There was the snap of a match. Ted Milner had decided to light his pipe after all. Evans ignored him. He was leaning forward in his chair, his gaze fixed50 intently on Amy Milner.
'Let's get this straight. According to this Sonny Troots
'Trotts.'
'Okay, Trotts. According to him, Tom Greenleaf did see Mort with someone?'
'Not exactly,' Amy said. 'Sonny thought if Tom believed that, believed it for sure, he wouldn't have lied to Greg. What Tom said was that he didn't know what he'd seen. That he was confused. That it seemed safer to say nothing about it at all. He didn't want anybody - particularly Greg Carstairs, who was also in the caretaking business - to know how confused he was, and most of all he didn't want anybody to think that he might be getting sick the way his late wife had gotten sick.'
'I'm not sure I understand this - I'm sorry.'
'According to Sonny,' she said, 'Tom came down Lake Drive in his Scout51 and saw Mort, standing52 by himself where the lakeside path comes out.'
'Near where the bodies were found?'
'Yes. Very near. Mort waved. Tom waved back. He drove by. Then, according to what Sonny says, Tom looked in his rear-view mirror and saw another man with Mort, and an old station wagon53, although neither the man nor the car had been there ten seconds before. The man was wearing a black hat. he said ... but you could see right through him, and the car, too.'
'Oh, Amy,' Ted said softly. 'The man was bullshiting you. Big time.'
She shook her head. 'I don't think Sonny is smart enough to make up such a story. He told me Tom thought he ought to get in touch with Greg and tell him he might have seen such a man after all; that it would be all right if he left out the see-through part. But Sonny said the old man was terrified. He was convinced that it was one of two things: either he was coming down with Alzheimer's disease, or he'd seen a ghost.'
'Well, it's certainly creepy,' Evans said, and it was - the skin on his arms and back had crinkled into gooseflesh for a moment or two. 'But it's hearsay54 ... hearsay from a dead man, in fact.'
'Yes ... but there's the other thing.' She set her teacup on the desk, picked up her purse, and began to rummage55 in it. 'When I was cleaning out Mort's office, I found that hat - that awful black hat - behind his desk. It gave me a shock, because I wasn't expecting it. I thought the police must have taken it away as evidence, or something. I hooked it out from behind there with a stick. It came out upside down, with the stick inside it. I used the stick to carry it outside and dump it in the trash cabinet. Do you understand?'
Ted clearly didn't; Evans clearly did. 'You didn't want to touch it.'
'That's right. I didn't want to touch it. It landed right side up on one of the green trash bags - I'd swear to that. Then, about an hour later, I went out with a bag of old medicines and shampoos and things from the bathroom. When I opened the lid of the garbage cabinet to put it in, the hat was turned over again. And this was tucked into the sweatband.' She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her purse and offered it to Evans with a hand that still trembled minutely. 'It wasn't there when the hat came out from behind the desk. I know that.'
Evans took the folded sheet and just held it for a moment. He didn't like it. It felt too heavy, and the texture56 was somehow wrong.
'I think there was a John Shooter,' she said. 'I think he was Mort's greatest creation - a character so vivid that he actually did become real.
'And I think that this is a message from a ghost.'
He took the slip of paper and opened it. Written halfway57 down was this message:
Missus - I am sorry for all the trouble. Things got out of hand. I am going back to my home now, I got my story, which is all I came for in the first place. It is called 'Crowfoot Mile,' and it is a crackerjack. Yours truly,
John Shooter
The signature was a bald scrawl58 below the neat lines of script.
'Is this your late husband's signature, Amy?' Evans asked.
'No,' she said. 'Nothing like it.'
The three of them sat in the office, looking at one another. Fred Evans tried to think of something to say and could not. After awhile, the silence (and the smell of Ted Milner's pipe) became more than any of them could stand. So Mr and Mrs Milner offered their thanks, said their goodbyes, and left his office to get on with their lives as best they could, and Fred Evans got on with his own as best he could, and sometimes, late at night, both he and the woman who had been married to Morton Rainey woke from dreams in which a man in a round-crowned black hat looked at them from sun-faded eyes caught in nets of wrinkles. He looked at them with no love ... but, they both felt, with an odd kind of stern pity.
It was not a kind expression, and it left no feeling of comfort, but they also both felt, in their different places, that they could find room to live with that look. And to tend their gardens.
收听单词发音 |
1
ted
|
|
| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
wan
|
|
| (wide area network)广域网 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
emphatic
|
|
| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
asperity
|
|
| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
skyscraper
|
|
| n.摩天大楼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
cubicle
|
|
| n.大房间中隔出的小室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
consolidated
|
|
| a.联合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
killer
|
|
| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
pall
|
|
| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
skidding
|
|
| n.曳出，集材v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的现在分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
dispelled
|
|
| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
ponderously
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
sipping
|
|
| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
chunk
|
|
| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
wreckage
|
|
| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
champagne
|
|
| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
cocktail
|
|
| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
persuasive
|
|
| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
vice
|
|
| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
steer
|
|
| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
ulcers
|
|
| n.溃疡( ulcer的名词复数 )；腐烂物；道德败坏；腐败 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
subscribe
|
|
| vi.(to)订阅，订购；同意；vt.捐助，赞助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
arsonist
|
|
| n.纵火犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
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： |
|
|
|
|
31
alibi
|
|
| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
alibis
|
|
| 某人在别处的证据( alibi的名词复数 )； 不在犯罪现场的证人； 借口； 托辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
fingerprints
|
|
| n.指纹( fingerprint的名词复数 )v.指纹( fingerprint的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
charred
|
|
| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
sediment
|
|
| n.沉淀，沉渣，沉积(物) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
canvassed
|
|
| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的过去式和过去分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
deposition
|
|
| n.免职，罢官；作证；沉淀；沉淀物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
compartment
|
|
| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
investigator
|
|
| n.研究者，调查者，审查者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
psychiatrist
|
|
| n.精神病专家；精神病医师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
breakdown
|
|
| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
plagiarism
|
|
| n.剽窃，抄袭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
obsessing
|
|
| v.时刻困扰( obsess的现在分词 )；缠住；使痴迷；使迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
scout
|
|
| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
wagon
|
|
| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
hearsay
|
|
| n.谣传，风闻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
rummage
|
|
| v./n.翻寻，仔细检查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
texture
|
|
| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
halfway
|
|
| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
scrawl
|
|
| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |