"But what is her name?" demanded Mr. Hartley at last, almost impatiently. "It isn't 'Quentina,' of course. I know that man who was here Sunday would never have named a daughter of his 'Quentina.'"
"Her name is 'Clorinda Dorinda,'" replied Genevieve. "She told us so in her letter; but she said she was always called 'Quentina.' I don't know why."
"Whew! I should think she would be," laughed Mr. Hartley. "Only fancy having to be called 'Clorinda Dorinda' whenever you were wanted!"
"Sounds like a rhyming dictionary to me," chuckled1 Tilly. "'Clorinda, Dorinda, Lucinda, Miranda,'" she chanted.
Mr. Hartley laughed, and walked off.
"Well, I'll leave her to you, anyhow, whatever she is," he called back.
"Auntie says ladies don't bet," she observed, in her severest manner.
"Oh, don't they?" snapped Tilly; then she, too, frowned, and hesitated. "All right, Cordy—Cordelia; see that you don't do it, then," she concluded good-naturedly.
Monday was a very quiet day for the girls at the ranch4. Mrs. Kennedy had insisted from the first upon this. She said that the next two days would be quite exciting enough to call for all the rest possible beforehand. So, except for the usual watching of the boys' morning start to work, there was little but music, books, and letter-writing allowed.
Tuesday dawned clear, but very warm. The girls were all awake at sunrise, and were soon ready for the early breakfast. Almost at once, afterward5, they stowed themselves—with little crowding but much giggling—in the carriage, and called gayly to Carlos: "We're all ready!"
"Yes, we're all aboard, Carlos," cried Genevieve.
"Good, Señorita! It is ver' glad I am to see you so prompt to the halter," grinned Carlos. "Quien sabe?—mebbe I didn't reckon on corrallin' the whole bunch of you so soon!"
"I'm afraid Carlos remembers that I was never on time, girls," she pouted7. "But you don't know, Carlos, what a marvel8 of promptness I've become back East—specially9 since somebody gave me a watch," she finished, smiling into the old man's face.
"All ready!" grinned Carlos, climbing into his seat.
"Let's give our Texas yell," proposed Tilly, softly, as she looked back to see Mrs. Kennedy, Mr. Hartley, and Mammy Lindy on the gallery steps. "Now count, Cordelia!"
And Cordelia did count. Once again her face expressed a tragedy of responsibility, and once again the resulting
"Texas, Texas, Tex—Tex—Texas!
Texas, Texas, Rah! Rah! Rah!
GENEVIEVE!"
was the glorious success it ought to have been. So to a responsive chorus of shouts, laughter, and hand-clapping, the Happy Hexagons drove away from the ranch house.
It was a pleasant drive, though a warm one. It did seem a little long, too, so anxious were they to reach their goal. The prairie sights and sounds, though interesting, were not so new, now. Even the two or three herds10 of cattle they met, and the groups of cowboys they saw galloping11 across the prairies, did not create quite the excitement they always had created heretofore. Quentina and the minister's home were so much more interesting to think of!
"What do you suppose she'll be like?" asked Elsie.
"Quien sabe?" laughed Genevieve.
"There! what does that mean?" demanded Tilly. "I've heard it lots of times since I've been here."
"'Who knows?'" translated Genevieve, smilingly.
"Yes, who does know?" retorted Tilly, not understanding. "But what does it mean?"
"That's just what it means—'Who knows?' The Mexicans and the cowboys use it a lot here, and when I come back I get to saying it, too."
"I should think you did," shrugged13 Tilly. "Well, anyhow, let's talk straight English for a while. Let's talk of Quentina. What do you suppose she's like, girls?"
"Let's guess," proposed Genevieve. "We can, you know, for Miss Jones was too sick to tell us anything, and we haven't a thing to go by but Quentina's letter, and that didn't tell much."
"All right, let's guess. Let's make a game of it," cried Tilly. "We'll each tell what we think, and then see who comes the nearest. You begin, Genevieve."
"All right. I think she's quiet and tall, and very dark like a Spaniard," announced Genevieve, weighing her words carefully.
"I think she's bookish, and maybe stupid," declared Tilly. "Her letter sounded queer."
"I think she's little, and got yellow hair and light-blue eyes," said Bertha.
"I think she's got curls—black ones—and looks lovely in red," declared Elsie Martin.
"We can trust you, Elsie, to get in something about her clothes," chuckled Tilly.
"Well, I think she's got brown eyes like Genevieve's, and brown hair like hers, too," asserted Alma Lane.
"Now, Cordelia," smiled Genevieve, "it's your turn. You haven't said, yet."
"There isn't anything left for me to say," replied Cordelia, in a slightly worried voice. "You've got all the pretty things used up. I should just have to say I think she's fat and homely14—and I don't think I ought to say that, for it would be a downright fib. I don't think she's that at all!"
There was a general laugh at this; then, for a time, there was silence while the carriage rolled along the prairie road.
Carlos had no difficulty in finding the home of the Rev15. Mr. Jones in Bolo. It proved to be a little house, unattractive, and very plain. It looked particularly forlorn with its bare little front yard, in which some one had made an attempt to raise nasturtiums and petunias17.
"Mercy! I guess we'll have to stand up in corners to sleep," gurgled Tilly, as the carriage stopped before the side door.
"Sh-h!" warned Genevieve. "Tilly, isn't it awful? Only think of our Quentina's living here!"
At that moment the door of the little house opened, and Mr. Jones appeared. From around his feet there seemed literally18 to tumble out upon the steps several boys of "assorted19 sizes," as Tilly expressed it afterward. Then the girls saw her in the doorway20—Quentina. She was slender, not very tall, but very pretty, with large, dark eyes, and fine yellow hair that fluffed and curled all about her forehead and ears and neck.
"O Happy Hexagons, Happy Hexagons, welcome, welcome, Happy Hexagons!" breathed the girl in the doorway ecstatically, clasping her hands.
Genevieve was the first to reach the ground.
"Quentina—I know you're Quentina; and I'm Genevieve Hartley," she cried, before Mr. Jones had a chance to speak.
"Yes, this is Quentina," he said then, cordially shaking Genevieve's hand. "And now I'll let you present her to your young friends, please, because you can do it so much better than I."
They were all out now, on the ground, hanging back a little diffidently. It was this, perhaps, that made Cordelia think that something ought to be said or done. She came hurriedly forward as she caught Genevieve's eye and heard her own name called.
"Yes, I'm Cordelia, and I'm so glad to see you," she stammered23; "and I'm so glad you're not fat and homely, too—er—that is," she corrected feverishly24, "I mean—we didn't any of us get you right, you know."
"Get me—right?" Quentina opened her dark eyes to their fullest extent.
Cordelia blushed, and tried to back away. With her eyes she implored25 Tilly or Elsie to take her place.
It was Genevieve who came to the rescue.
"We'll have to own up, Quentina," she laughed. "On the way here we were trying to picture how you look; and of course we each had to guess a different thing, so we got all kinds of combinations."
"Yes, but we didn't get yours," chuckled Tilly, coming easily forward, with outstretched hand.
"Indeed we didn't," echoed Elsie, admiringly.
"Why, of course we couldn't," stammered Cordelia, still red of face. "We never, never could think of anything so pretty as you really are!"
Quentina laughed now, and raised hurried hands to hide the pretty red that had flown to her cheeks.
"Oh, you funny, funny Happy Hexagons!" she cried, in her sweet, Southern drawl.
Naturally there could be nothing stiff about the introductions, after that, and they were dispatched in short order, even to Mr. Jones's pulling the boys into line, and announcing:
"This is Paul, with the solemn face. And this grinning little chap is Edward—Ned, for short; and these are the twins, Bob and Rob."
"Are they both 'Robert'?" questioned Tilly, interestedly.
Mr. Jones smiled.
"Oh, no. Bob is Bolton, and Rob is Robert. The 'Rob and Bob' is Quentina's idea—she likes the sound of it."
"I told you!—she is a rhyming dictionary," whispered Tilly, in an aside that nearly convulsed the two girls that heard her.
Inside the house they all met "mother."
Mother, in spite of her lame26 foot, was a very forceful personality. She was bright and cheery, too, and she made the girls feel welcome and at home immediately.
"It's so good of you to come!" she exclaimed. "Poor Quentina has been shut up with me for weeks. But I'm better, now—lots better; and I shall soon be about again."
"I think it was very good of you to let us come," returned Genevieve, politely, "specially when you aren't well yourself. But we'll try not to make you any more trouble than we can't help."
"Trouble, dear child! I reckon we don't call you trouble," declared the minister's wife, fervently27, "after all your kindness to my daughter, Alice." Genevieve raised a protesting hand, but Mrs. Jones went on smilingly. "And then that letter to Quentina—she's never ceased to talk and dream of the girls who sent it to her."
"Oh, I did like it so much—indeed I did," chimed in Quentina. "Why, Genevieve, I made a poem on it—a lovely poem just like Tennyson's 'Margaret,' you know; only I put in 'Hexagons,' and changed the words to fit, of course."
Tilly nudged Elsie violently, and Elsie choked a spasmodic giggle21 into a cough; but Quentina unhesitatingly went on.
"It began:
"'O sweet pale Hexagons,
O rare pale Hexagons,
What lit your eyes with tearful power,
Like moonlight on a falling shower?
Why sent you, loves, so full and free,
Your letter sweet to little me?'
That's just the first, you know," smiled Quentina, engagingly, "and of course when I wrote it I didn't know you weren't really 'pale,' at all; but then, we can just call that part poetic28 license29."
Mrs. Jones smiled.
"I'm afraid, for a little, you won't know just what to make of Quentina," she explained laughingly. "We're used to her turning everything into jingles33, but strangers are not."
"Oh, mother, I don't," cried Quentina, reproachfully. "There's heaps and heaps of things that I never wrote a line of poetry about. But how could I help it?—that beautiful letter, and the Happy Hexagons, and all! It just wrote itself. I sent it East, too, to a magazine, two or three times—but they didn't put it in," she added, as an afterthought.
"Why, what a shame!" murmured Tilly.
Genevieve looked up quickly. Tilly was wearing her most innocent, most angelic expression, but Genevieve knew very well the naughtiness behind it. Quentina, however, accepted it as pure gold.
"Yes, wasn't it?" she rejoined cheerfully. "I felt right bad, particularly as I was going to send you all a copy when it was published."
"You can give us a manuscript copy, Quentina. We would love that," interposed Genevieve, hurriedly. Behind Quentina's back she gave Tilly then a frowning shake of the head—though it must be confessed that her dancing eyes rather spoiled the effect of it.
"Maybe it's because her name rhymes—'Clorinda Dorinda,'" suggested Tilly, interestedly; "maybe that's why she likes to write poetry so well."
Mrs. Jones laughed.
"That's what her father says. But Clorinda herself changed her own name about as soon as she could talk. She couldn't manage the hard 'Clorinda' very well, and I had a Mexican nurse girl, Quentina, whose name she much preferred. So very soon she was calling herself 'Quentina,' and insisting that every one else should do the same."
"But it's so much prettier," declared the minister's daughter, fervently. "Of course 'Clorinda Dorinda' are some pretty, because they rhyme so, but I like 'Quentina' better. Besides, there are lots more pretty words to make that rhyme with—Florena, Dulcina, Rowena, and verbena, you know."
"And 'you've seen her,'" suggested Tilly, gravely.
Quentina frowned a moment in thought.
"Y-yes," she admitted; "but I don't think that's a very pretty one."
It was Genevieve this time who choked a giggle into a cough, and who, a moment later, turned very eagerly to welcome an interruption in the person of the Rev. Mr. Jones.
Soon after this Quentina suggested a trip through the house.
"You see I want to show you where you're going to sleep," she explained.
"Oh, Mr. Jones told us that," observed Tilly, as the seven girls trooped up the narrow stairway. "He said we were to stand up in the corners." Tilly spoke with the utmost gravity.
Quentina turned, wide-eyed.
"Why, you couldn't! You'd never sleep a bit," she demurred34 concernedly. "Besides, it isn't necessary."
All but Tilly and Genevieve tittered audibly. Tilly still looked the picture of innocence35. Genevieve frowned at her sternly, then stepped forward and put her arm around Quentina's waist.
"Tilly was only joking, Quentina," she explained. "When you know Tilly better you'll find she never by any chance talks sense—but always nonsense," she finished, looking at Tilly severely36.
Tilly wrinkled up her nose and pouted; but her eyes laughed.
"There, here's my room," announced Quentina, a moment later. "We've put a couch in it, and if you don't mind my sleeping with you, three can be here. Then across the hall here is the twins' room, and two more can sleep in this; and Paul and Ned's room down there at the end of the hall will take the other two. There! You see we've got it fixed37 right well."
"Oh, yes—well for us; but how about the boys?" cried Genevieve. "Where will they sleep?"
Quentina's lips parted, but before the words were uttered, a new thought seemed to have come to her. With an odd little glance at Tilly, she drawled demurely38:
"Oh, they are going to sleep in the corners."
They all laughed this time.
"Well, now we've done the whole house, and we'll take the yard," proposed Quentina, as, a little later, she led the way down-stairs and out of doors. "There! aren't my nasturtiums beautiful?" she exulted39, with the air of a fond mother displaying her first-born. She was pointing to a bed of straggling, puny40 plants, beautifully free from weeds, and showing here and there a few brilliant blossoms.
Tilly turned her back suddenly. Cordelia looked distressed41. Bertha cried thoughtlessly:
"Oh, but you ought to see Genevieve's, Quentina, if you want to see nasturtiums!"
"Oh, but I have Carlos," cut in Genevieve, hurriedly, "and Carlos can make anything grow. What a pretty dark one this is," she finished, bending over one of the plants.
Quentina's face clouded.
"I don't suppose they are much, really," she admitted. "But I've worked so hard over them! Father says the earth isn't good at all. I was so pleased when that big red one came out! I made a poem on it right off:
"'O nasturtium, sweet nasturtium,
Did you blossom just for me?
All those colors that I see?'
That's the way it began. Wasn't I lucky to think of that 'unearth 'em?' Besides, it's really true, you know. They do unearth 'em, and 'twas such a nice rhyme for nasturtium. Now there's petunia16; I think that's a perfectly43 beautiful sounding word, but I've never been able to find a single thing that rhymed with it. I do love flowers so," she added, after a moment; "but we've never had many. They always burn up, or dry up, or get eaten up, or just don't come up at all. Of course we've never had a really pretty place. Ministers like us don't, you know," she finished cheerfully.
There was no reply to this. Not one of the Happy Hexagons could think of anything to say. For once even Tilly was at a loss for words. It was Quentina herself who broke the silence.
"Now tell me all about the East. Let's go up on the gallery and sit down. I do so want to go East to school; but of course I can't."
"Why not?" asked Bertha.
"Oh, it costs too much," returned Quentina. "You know ministers don't have money for such things." Her voice was still impersonally44 cheerful.
"How old are you?" asked Elsie, as they seated themselves on chairs and steps.
"Sixteen last month."
"Oh, I wish you could go," cried Genevieve. "Wouldn't it be just lovely if you could come to Sunbridge and go to school with us!"
"Where is Sunbridge? I always thought of it as just 'East,' you know."
"In New Hampshire."
"Oh," said Quentina, with a sigh of disappointment. "I hoped it was in Massachusetts, near Boston, you know. I thought Alice said it was near Boston."
"Well, we aren't so awfully45 far from Boston," bridled46 Tilly. "It only takes an hour and a half or less to go there. I go with mother every little while when I'm home."
Quentina sprang to her feet.
"Boston! Oh, girls, you don't know how I want to see Boston, and Paul Revere47's grave, and the Common, and the old State House, and Bunker Hill, and that lovely North Church where they hung the lantern, you know.
'Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,'"
she began to chant impressively. "Oh, don't you just love that poem?"
"Who was Paul Revere?" asked Tilly, pleasantly.
"Paul Revere!" exclaimed Quentina, plainly shocked. "Who was Paul Revere!"
"Tilly!" scolded Genevieve, as soon as she could command her voice. "Quentina, that's only some of Tilly's nonsense. Tilly knows very well who Paul Revere was."
"Yes, of course she does; and we all do," interposed Elsie Martin. "But I'll own right up, I don't know half as much about all those historical things and places as I ought to."
"Neither do I," chimed in Bertha. "Just because they're right there handy, and we can go any time, we—"
"We don't go any time," laughed Alma Lane, finishing the sentence for her.
"I know it," said Elsie. "We had a cousin with us for two weeks last summer, and she just doted on old relics48 and graveyards49. She made us take her into Boston 'most every day, and she asked all sorts of questions which I couldn't answer."
"Yes, I know; but excuse me, please," put in Tilly, flippantly. "I don't want any graveyards and relics in mine."
"That's slang, Tilly," reproved Cordelia.
"Besides, people come from miles and miles just to see those things that we neglect, right at our doors, almost."
"But how can you neglect them?" remonstrated52 Quentina. "Why, if I ever go to Boston, I sha'n't sleep nor eat till I've seen Paul Revere's grave!"
"Guilty!" Tilly held up her hand unblushingly.
"Then you have seen it?"
"Er—n-no, not that one," confessed Genevieve, coloring. "But I've seen heaps of other graves there," she assured her hopefully, as if graves were the only open door to Quentina's favor.
"Oh, you've had such chances," envied Quentina. "Just think—Boston! You said you were near Boston?"
"Oh, yes."
"Less than two hours away?"
"Why, yes," exclaimed Tilly, "I told you. We're less than an hour and a half away."
"Dear me! I don't know," laughed Genevieve. "Why?"
"And do you read the Atlantic Monthly, and eat beans Saturday night, and fishballs Sunday morning?" still hurried on Quentina. "You don't any of you wear glasses, and I don't think you speak very low."
"Anything else?" asked Tilly politely.
"Oh, yes, lots of things," answered Quentina, "but I've forgotten most of them."
"Quentina, what are you talking about?" laughed Genevieve.
Quentina smiled oddly, then she sighed.
"It wasn't true, of course. I knew it couldn't be."
"What wasn't true?"
"Something I found in one of father's church papers about Rules for Living in New England. I cut it out. Wait a minute—it's here, somewhere!" And, to the girls' amazement58, she dived into a pocket at the side of her dress, pulling out several clippings which seemed, mostly, to be verse. One was prose, and it was on this she pounced59. "Here it is. Listen." And she read:
"'Rules for Living in New England. You must be descended60 from the Puritans, and should belong to the Mayflower Society, or be a D. A. R., a Colonial Dame56, or an S. A. R. You must graduate from Harvard, or Radcliffe, and must disdain61 all other colleges. You must quote Emerson, read the Atlantic Monthly, and swear by the Transcript62. You must wear glasses, speak in a low voice, eat beans on Saturday night, and fishballs on Sunday morning. Always you must carry with you a green bag, and you should be a professional man, or woman, preferably of the literary variety. You should live not farther away from Boston than two hours' ride, and of course you will be devoted63 to tombstones, relics, and antiques. You may tolerate Europe, but you must ignore the West. You must be slow of speech, dignified64 of conduct, and serene50 of temper. You must never be surprised, nor display undue65 emotion. Above all, you must be cultured.'
"Now you see you haven't done all those things," she declared, as she finished the article.
"I reckon there are a few omissions—specially on my part," laughed Genevieve.
"But you are happy there?"
"Indeed I am!"
"How I do wish I could go," sighed Quentina. "I should love Boston, I know. Alice did—though she still liked Texas better."
"Well, I know Boston would love you," chuckled Tilly, unexpectedly. "Girls, wouldn't she be a picnic in Sunbridge? She'd be more of a circus than you were, Genevieve!"
"Thank you," bowed Genevieve, with mock stiffness.
"Oh, we loved you right away—and we should Quentina, of course."
"Thank you," bowed Quentina, in her turn, laughingly.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
chuckled
|
|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
saucily
|
|
| adv.傲慢地，莽撞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
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： |
|
|
|
|
4
ranch
|
|
| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
wry
|
|
| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
pouted
|
|
| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
marvel
|
|
| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
herds
|
|
| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
galloping
|
|
| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
outright
|
|
| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
rev
|
|
| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
petunia
|
|
| n.矮牵牛花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
petunias
|
|
| n.矮牵牛（花）( petunia的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
assorted
|
|
| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
giggle
|
|
| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
giggled
|
|
| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
feverishly
|
|
| adv. 兴奋地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
fervently
|
|
| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
poetic
|
|
| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
faltered
|
|
| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
jingles
|
|
| 叮当声( jingle的名词复数 )； 节拍十分规则的简单诗歌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
demurred
|
|
| v.表示异议，反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
demurely
|
|
| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
exulted
|
|
| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
puny
|
|
| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
distressed
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
unearth
|
|
| v.发掘，掘出，从洞中赶出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
impersonally
|
|
| ad.非人称地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
bridled
|
|
| 给…套龙头( bridle的过去式和过去分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
revere
|
|
| vt.尊崇，崇敬，敬畏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
relics
|
|
| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
graveyards
|
|
| 墓地( graveyard的名词复数 )； 垃圾场； 废物堆积处； 收容所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
serenely
|
|
| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
remonstrated
|
|
| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
shuddered
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
dames
|
|
| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
pounced
|
|
| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
transcript
|
|
| n.抄本，誊本，副本，肄业证书 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
undue
|
|
| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |