"Wouldn't you like to know when I'm going home?"
Io Welland looked up from beneath her dark lashes1 at her hostess with a mixture of mischief2 and deprecation.
"No," said Miss Van Arsdale quietly.
"Ah? Well, I would. Here it is two full weeks since I settled down on you. Why don't you evict3 me?"
Miss Van Arsdale smiled. The girl continued:
"Why don't I evict myself? I'm quite well and sane4 again--at least I think so--thanks to you. Very well, then, Io; why don't you go home?"
"Instinct of self-preservation," suggested the other. "You're better off here until your strength is quite restored, aren't you?"
The girl propped5 her chin in her hand and turned upon her companion a speculative6 regard. "Camilla Van Arsdale, you don't really like me," she asserted.
"Liking7 is such an undefined attitude," replied the other, unembarrassed.
"You find me diverting," defined Io. "But you resent me, don't you?"
"That's rather acute in you. I don't like your standards nor those of your set."
"I've abandoned them."
"You'll resume them as soon as you get back."
"Shall I ever get back?" The girl moved to the door. Her figure swayed forward yieldingly as if she would give herself into the keeping of the sun-drenched, pine-soaked air. "Enchantment8!" she murmured.
"It is a healing place," said the habitant of it, low, as if to herself.
A sudden and beautiful pity softened9 and sobered Io's face. "Miss Van Arsdale," said she with quiet sincerity10; "if there should ever come a time when I can do you a service in word or deed, I would come from the other side of the world to do it."
"That is a kindly11, but rather exaggerated gratitude12."
"It isn't gratitude. It's loyalty13. Whatever you have done, I believe you were right. And, right or wrong, I--I am on your side. But I wonder why you have been so good to me. Was it a sort of class feeling?"
"Sex feeling would be nearer it," replied the other. "There is something instinctive14 which makes women who are alone stand by each other."
Io nodded. "I suppose so. Though I've never felt it, or the need of it before this. Well, I had to speak before I left, and I suppose I must go on soon."
"I shall miss you," said the hostess, and added, smiling, "as one misses a stimulant16. Stay through the rest of the month, anyway."
"I'd like to," answered Io gratefully. "I've written Delavan that I'm coming back--and now I'm quite dreading17 it. Do you suppose there ever yet was a woman with understanding of herself?"
"Not unless she was a very dull and stupid woman with little to understand," smiled Miss Van Arsdale. "What are you doing to-day?"
"Riding down to lunch with your paragon19 of a station-agent."
Miss Van Arsdale shook her head dubiously20. "I'm afraid he'll miss his daily stimulant after you've gone. It has been daily, hasn't it?"
"I suppose it has, just about," admitted the girl. "The stimulus21 hasn't been all on one side, I assure you. What a mind to be buried here in the desert! And what an annoying spirit of contentment! It's that that puzzles me. Sometimes it enrages22 me."
"Are you going to spoil what you cannot replace?" The retort was swift, almost fierce.
"Surely, you won't blame me if he looks beyond this horizon," protested Io. "Life is sure to reach out in one form or another and seize on him. I told him so."
"Yes," breathed the other. "You would."
"What were you intending to do with him?"
There was a hint of challenge in the slight emphasis given to the query23.
"I? Nothing. He is under no obligation to me."
"There you and he differ. He regards you as an infallible mentor24." A twinkle of malice25 crept into the slumbrous eyes. "Why do you let him wear made-up bow ties?" demanded Io.
"What does it matter?"
"Out here, nothing. But elsewhere--well, it does define a man, doesn't it?"
"Undoubtedly26. I've never gone into it with him."
"I wonder if I could guess why."
"Very likely. You seem preternaturally acute in these matters."
"Is it because the Sears-Roebuck mail-order double-bow knot in polka-dot pattern stands as a sign of pristine27 innocence28?"
In spite of herself Miss Van Arsdale laughed. "Something of that sort."
Io's soft lips straightened. "It's rotten bad form. Why shouldn't he be right? It's so easy. Just a hint--"
"From you?"
"From either of us. Yes; from me, if you like."
"It's quite an intimate interest, isn't it?"
"'But never can battle of men compare With merciless feminine fray'"-- quoted Io pensively29.
"Kipling is a sophomore30 about women," retorted Miss Van Arsdale. "We're not going to quarrel over Errol Banneker. The odds31 are too unfair."
"Unfair?" queried32 Io, with a delicate lift of brow.
"Don't misunderstand me. I know that whatever you do will be within the rules of the game. That's the touchstone of honor of your kind."
"Isn't it good enough? It ought to be, for it's about the only one most of us have." Io laughed. "We're becoming very serious. May I take the pony34?"
"Yes. Will you be back for supper?"
"Of course. Shall I bring the paragon?"
"If you wish."
Outside the gaunt box of the station, Io, from the saddle sent forth35 her resonant36, young call:
"Oh, Ban!"
"'Tis the voice of the Butterfly; hear her declare, 'I've come down to the earth; I am tired of the air'"
chanted Banneker's voice in cheerful paraphrase37. "Light and preen38 your wings, Butterfly."
Their tone was that of comrades without a shade of anything deeper.
"Busy?" asked Io.
"Just now. Give me another five minutes."
"I'll go to the hammock."
One lone15 alamo tree, an earnest of spring water amongst the dry-sand growth of the cactus39, flaunted40 its bright verdency a few rods back of the station, and in its shade Banneker had swung a hammock for Io. Hitching41 her pony and unfastening her hat, the girl stretched herself luxuriously42 in the folds. A slow wind, spice-laden with the faint, crisp fragrancies of the desert, swung her to a sweet rhythm. She closed her eyes happily ... and when she opened them, Banneker was standing18 over her, smiling.
"Don't speak to me," she murmured; "I want to believe that this will last forever."
Silent and acquiescent43, he seated himself in a camp-chair close by. She stretched a hand to him, closing her eyes again.
"Swing me," she ordered.
He aided the wind to give a wider sweep to the hammock. Io stirred restlessly.
"You've broken the spell," she accused softly. "Weave me another one."
"What shall it be?" He bent44 over the armful of books which he had brought out.
"You choose this time."
"I wonder," he mused45, regarding her consideringly.
"Ah, you may well wonder! I'm in a very special mood to-day."
"When aren't you, Butterfly?" he laughed.
"Beware that you don't spoil it. Choose well, or forever after hold your peace."
He lifted the well-worn and well-loved volume of poetry. It parted in his hand to the Rossetti sonnet46. He began to read at the lines:
"When Work and Will awake too late, to gaze After their life sailed by, and hold their breath."
Io opened her eyes again.
"Why did you select that thing?"
"Why did you mark it?"
"Did I mark it?"
"Certainly, I'm not responsible for the sage47-blossom between the pages."
"Ah, the sage! That's for wisdom," she paraphrased48 lightly.
"Do you think Rossetti so wise a preceptor?"
"It isn't often that he preaches. When he does, as in that sonnet--well, the inspiration may be a little heavy, but he does have something to say."
"Then it's the more evident that you marked it for some special reason."
"What supernatural insight," she mocked. "Can you read your name between the lines?"
"What is it that you want me to do?"
"You mean to ask what it is that Mr. Rossetti wants you to do. I didn't write the sonnet, you know."
"You didn't fashion the arrow, but you aimed it."
"Am I a good marksman?"
"I suppose you mean that I'm wasting my time here."
"Surely not!" she gibed49. "Forming a link of transcontinental traffic. Helping50 to put a girdle 'round the earth in eighty days--or is it forty now?--enlightening the traveling public about the three-twenty-four train; dispensing51 time-tables and other precious mediums of education--"
"I'm happy here," he said doggedly52.
"Are you going to be, always?"
His face darkened with doubt. "Why shouldn't I be?" he argued. "I've got everything I need. Some day I thought I might write."
"What about?" The question came sharp and quick.
He looked vaguely53 around the horizon.
"Oh, no, Ban!" she said. "Not this. You've got to know something besides cactuses and owls54 to write, these days. You've got to know men. And women," she added, in a curious tone, with a suspicion of effort, even of jealousy55 in it.
"I've never cared much for people," he said.
"It's an acquired taste, I suppose for some of us. There's something else." She came slowly to a sitting posture56 and fixed57 her questioning, baffling eyes on his. "Ban, don't you want to make a success in life?"
For a moment he did not answer. When he spoke58, it was with apparent irrelevance59 to what she had said. "Once I went to a revival60. A reformed tough was running it. About every three minutes he'd thrust out his hands and grab at the air and say, 'Oh, brothers; don't you yearn61 for Jesus?'"
"What has that to do with it?" questioned Io, surprised and impatient.
"Only that, somehow, the way you said 'success in life' made me think of him and his 'yearn for Jesus.'"
"Errol Banneker," said Io, amused in spite of her annoyance62, "you are possessed63 of a familiar devil who betrays other people's inner thoughts to you. Success _is_ a species of religion to me, I suppose."
"And you are making converts, like all true enthusiasts64. Tell, tell me. What kind of success?"
"Oh, power. Money. Position. Being somebody."
"I'm somebody here all right. I'm the station-agent of the Atkinson and St. Philip Railroad Company."
"Now you're trying to provoke me."
"No. But to get success you've got to want it, haven't you?" he asked more earnestly. "To want it with all your strength."
"Of course. Every man ought to."
"I'm not so sure," he objected. "There's a kind of virtue65 in staying put, isn't there?"
She made a little gesture of impatience66.
"I'll give you a return for your sonnet," he pursued, and repeated from memory:
"What else is Wisdom? What of man's endeavor Or God's high grace, so lovely and so great? To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait; To hold a hand uplifted over Hate. And shall not Loveliness be loved forever?"
"I don't know it. It's beautiful. What is it?"
"Gilbert Murray's translation of 'The Bacchae.' My legal mentors67 had a lapse68 of dry-as-dustness and sent it to me."
"'To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait,'" murmured the girl. "That is what I've been doing here. How good it is! But not for you," she added, her tone changing from dreamy to practical. "Ban, I suspect there's too much poetry in your cosmos69."
"Very probably. Poetry isn't success, is it?"
Her face grew eager. "It might be. The very highest. But you've got to make yourself known and felt among people."
"Do you think I could? And how does one get that kind of desire?" he asked lazily.
"How? I've known men to do it for love; and I've known them to do it for hate; and I've known them to do it for money. Yes; and there's another cause."
"What is it?"
"Restlessness."
"That's ambition with its nerves gone bad, isn't it?"
Again she smiled. "You'll know what it is some day."
"Is it contagious70?" he asked solicitously71.
"Don't be alarmed. I haven't it. Not now. I'd love to stay on and on and just 'breathe and wait,' if the gods were good."
'"Dream that the gods are good,'" he echoed. "The last thing they ever think of being according to my reading."
She capped his line;
"We twain, once well in sunder33, What will the mad gods do--'"
she began; then broke off, jumping to her feet. "I'm talking sheer nonsense!" she cried. "Take me for a walk in the woods. The desert glares to-day."
"I'll have to be back by twelve," he said. "Excuse me just a moment."
He disappeared into the portable house. When he rejoined her, she asked:
"What did you go in there for? To get your revolver?"
"Yes."
"I've carried one since the day you told me to. Not that I've met a soul that looked dangerous, nor that I'd know how to shoot or when, if I did."
"The sight of it would be taken as evidence that you knew how to use it," he assured her.
For a time, as they walked, she had many questions to put about the tree and bird life surrounding them. In the midst of it he asked her:
"Do you ever get restless?"
"I haven't, here. I'm getting rested."
"And at home I suppose you're too busy."
"Being busy is no preventive. Somebody has said that St. Vitus is the patron saint of New York society."
"It must take almost all the time those people have to keep up with the theaters and with the best in poetry and what's being done and thought, and the new books and all that," he surmised72.
"I beg your pardon; what was that about poetry and books?"
"Girls like you--society girls, I mean--read everything there is, don't they?"
"Where do you get that extraordinary idea?"
"Why, from knowing you."
"My poor, innocent Ban! If you were to try and talk books and poetry, 'Shakespeare and the musical glasses,' to the average society girl, as you call her, what do you suppose would happen?"
"Why, I suppose I'd give myself away as an ignoramus."
"Heaven save you for a woolly lambkin! The girl would flee, shrieking73, and issue a warning against you as a high-brow, a prig, and a hopeless bore. They don't read books, except a few chocolate-cream novels. They haven't the time."
"But you--"
"Oh, I'm a freak! I get away with it because I'm passably good-looking and know how to dress, and do what I please by the divine right of--well, of just doing it. But, even so, a lot of the men are rather afraid of me in their hearts. They suspect the bluestocking. Let 'em suspect! The market is plenty good enough," declared Io flippantly.
"Then you just took up books as a sort of freak; a side issue?" The disappointment in his face was almost ludicrous.
"No." A quiet gravity altered her expression. "I'll tell you about me, if you want to hear. My mother was the daughter of a famous classical scholar, who was opposed to her marriage because Father has always been a man of affairs. From the first, Mother brought me up to love books and music and pictures. She died when I was twelve, and poor Father, who worshiped her, wanted to carry out her plans for me, though he had no special sympathy with them. To make things worse for him, nobody but Mother ever had any control over me; I was spoiled and self-willed and precocious74, and I thought the world owed me a good time. Dad's business judgment75 of human nature saved the situation, he thoroughly76 understood one thing about me, that I'd keep a bargain if I made it. So we fixed up our little contract; I was to go through college and do my best, and after I graduated, I was to have a free hand and an income of my own, a nice one. I did the college trick. I did it well. I was third in my class, and there wasn't a thing in literature or languages that they could stop me from getting. At eighteen they turned me loose on the world, and here I am, tired of it, but still loving it. That's all of me. Aren't I a good little autobiographer77. Every lady her own Boswell! What are you listening to?"
"There's a horse coming along the old trail," said Banneker.
"Who is it?" she asked. "Some one following us?"
He shook his head. A moment later the figure of a mounted man loomed78 through the brush. He was young, strong-built, and not ill-looking. "Howdy, Ban," he said.
Banneker returned the greeting.
"Whee-ew!" shrilled79 the other, wiping his brow. "This sure does fetch the licker outen a man's hide. Hell of a wet night at the Sick Coyote last night. Why wasn't you over?"
"Busy," replied Banneker.
Something in his tone made the other raise himself from his weary droop80. He sighted Io.
"Howdy, ma'am," he said. "Didn't see there was ladies present."
"Good-morning," said Io.
"Visitin' hereabouts?" inquired the man, eyeing her curiously81.
"Yes."
"Where, if I might be bold to ask?"
"If you've got any questions to ask, ask them of me, Fred," directed Banneker.
While there was nothing truculent82 in his manner, it left no doubt as to his readiness and determination.
Fred looked both sullen83 and crestfallen84.
"It ain't nothin'," he said. "Only, inquiries85 was bein' made by a gent from a Angelica City noospaper last week."
"Somebody else meant," asserted Banneker. "You keep that in mind, will you? And it isn't necessary that you should mention this lady at all. Savvy86, Fred?"
The other grunted87, touched his sombrero to Io and rode on.
"Has a reporter been here inquiring after me?" asked Io.
"Not after you. It was some one else."
"If the newspapers tracked me here, I'd have to leave at once."
"They won't. At least, it isn't likely."
"You'd get me out some way, wouldn't you, Ban?" she said trustfully.
"Yes."
"Ban; that Fred person seemed afraid of you."
"He's got nothing to be afraid of unless he talks too much."
"But you had him 'bluffed88.' I'm sure you had. Ban, did you ever kill a man?"
"No."
"Or shoot one?"
"Not even that."
"Yet, I believe, from the way he looked at you, that you've got a reputation as a 'bad man'?"
"So I have. But it's no fault of mine."
"How did you get it?"
"You'll laugh if I tell you. They say I've got a 'killer's' eye."
The girl examined his face with grave consideration. "You've got nice eyes," was her verdict. "That deep brown is almost wasted on a man; some girl ought to have it. I used to hear a--a person, who made a deep impression on me at the time, insist that there was always a flaw in the character of a person with large, soft brown eyes."
"Isn't there a flaw in every character?"
"Human nature being imperfect, there must be. What is yours; suppressed murderousness?"
"Not at all. My reputation is unearned, though useful. Just before I came here, a young chap showed up from nowhere and loafed around Manzanita. He was a pretty kind of lad, and one night in the Sick Coyote some of the old-timers tried to put something over on him. When the smoke cleared away, there was one dead and six others shot up, and Little Brownie was out on the desert, riding for the next place, awfully89 sore over a hole in his new sombrero. He was a two-gun man from down near the border. Well, when I arrived in town, I couldn't understand why every one looked so queerly at my eyes, until Mindle, the mail-driver, told me they were exactly like the hair-trigger boy's. Cheap and easy way to get a reputation, isn't it?"
"But you must have something back of it," insisted the girl. "Are you a good shot?"
"Nothing fancy; there are twenty better in town."
"Yet you pin some faith to your 'gun,'" she pointed90 out.
He glanced over his shoulder to right and left. Io jumped forward with a startled cry. So swift and secret had been his motion that she hardly saw the weapon before--PLACK--PLACK--PLACK--the three shots had sounded. The smoke drifted around him in a little circle, for the first two shots had been over his shoulder and the third as he whirled. Walking back, he carefully examined the trunks of three trees.
"I'd have only barked that fellow, if he'd been a man," he observed, shaking his head at the second mark.
"You frightened me," complained Io.
"I'm sorry. I thought you wanted to see a little gun-play. Out here it isn't how straight you can shoot at a bull's-eye, but how quick you can plant your bullets, and usually in a mark that isn't obliging enough to be dead in line. So I practice occasionally, just in case."
"Very interesting. But I've got luncheon91 to cook," said Io.
They returned through the desert. As he opened the door of the shack92 for her, Banneker, reverting93 to her autobiographical sketch94, remarked thoughtfully and without preliminary:
"I might have known there couldn't be any one else like you."
收听单词发音 |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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evict
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| vt.驱逐，赶出，撵走 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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stimulant
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| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
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dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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enrages
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| 使暴怒( enrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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mentor
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| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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pristine
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| adj.原来的，古时的，原始的，纯净的，无垢的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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sophomore
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| n.大学二年级生；adj.第二年的 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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sunder
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| v.分开；隔离；n.分离，分开 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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resonant
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| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
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paraphrase
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| vt.将…释义，改写；n.释义，意义 | |
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preen
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| v.（人）打扮修饰 | |
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cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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flaunted
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| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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hitching
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| 搭乘； （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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acquiescent
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| adj.默许的，默认的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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paraphrased
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| v.释义，意译( paraphrase的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gibed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄( gibe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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54
owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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55
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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58
spoke
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| 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 | |
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irrelevance
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| n.无关紧要；不相关；不相关的事物 | |
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revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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mentors
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| n.（无经验之人的）有经验可信赖的顾问( mentor的名词复数 )v.（无经验之人的）有经验可信赖的顾问( mentor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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cosmos
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| n.宇宙；秩序，和谐 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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solicitously
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| adv.热心地，热切地 | |
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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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autobiographer
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| n.自传作者 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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shrilled
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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savvy
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| v.知道，了解；n.理解能力，机智，悟性；adj.有见识的，懂实际知识的，通情达理的 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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88
bluffed
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| 以假象欺骗，吹牛( bluff的过去式和过去分词 )； 以虚张声势找出或达成 | |
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89
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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92
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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93
reverting
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| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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