So the Reverend Francis Tait plodded10 on at his curacy, and was content to await that remote day when fortune should drop from the skies.
Where was Margaret? Margaret had bidden adieu to old England for ever. Her husband, who had not been promoted in his house of business as rapidly as he thought he ought to have been, had thrown up his situation, home and home ties, and gone out to the woods of Canada to become a settler. Did Margaret repent11 her hasty marriage then? Did she find that her finished education, her peculiar12 tastes and habits, so unfitted for domestic life, were all lost in those wild woods? Music, drawing, languages, literature, of what use were they to her now? She might educate her own children, indeed, as they grew up: the only chance of education it appeared likely they would have. That Margaret found herself in a peculiarly uncongenial atmosphere, there could be no doubt; but, like a brave woman as she proved herself, not a hint of it, in writing home, ever escaped her, not a shadow of complaint could be gathered there. It was not often that she wrote, and her letters grew more rare as the years went on. Robert had accompanied them, and he boasted that he liked the life much; a thousand times better than that of the musty old warehouse13.
Mr. Halliburton's teaching was excellent—his income good. He was now one of the professors at King's College; but had not yet succeeded in carrying out his dream—that of getting to Oxford14 or Cambridge. Edgar Halliburton had begun at the wrong end of the ladder: he should have gone to college first and married afterwards. He married first: and to college he never went. A man of moderate means, with a home to keep, a wife, children, servants, to provide for, has enough to do with his money and time, without spending them at college. He had quite given up the idea now; and perhaps had grown not to regret it very keenly: his home was one of refinement15, comfort, and thorough happiness.
But about this period, or indeed some time prior to it, Mr. Halliburton had reason to believe that he was overtaxing his strength. For a long, long while, almost ever since he had been in London, he was aware that he had not felt thoroughly16 well. Hot weather affected17 him and rendered him languid; the chills of winter gave him a cough; the keen winds of spring attacked his chest. He would throw off his ailments18 bravely and go on again, not heeding19 them or thinking that they might ever become serious. Perhaps he never gave a thought to that until one evening when, upon coming in after a hard day's toil20, he sat down in his chair and quietly fainted away.
Jane and one of the servants were standing21 over him when he recovered—Jane's face very pale and anxious.
"Do not be alarmed," he said, smiling at her. "I suppose I dropped asleep; or lost consciousness in some way."
"You fainted, Edgar."
"Fainted, did I? How silly I must have been! The room's warm, Jane: it must have overpowered me."
Jane was not deceived. She saw that he was making light of it to quiet her alarm, and brought him a glass of wine. He drank it, but could not eat anything: frequently could not eat now.
"Edgar," she said, "you are doing too much. I have seen it for a long time past."
"Seen what, Jane?"
"That your strength is not equal to your work. You must give up a portion of your teaching."
"My dear, how can I do so? Does it not take all I earn to meet expenses? When accounts are settled at the end of the year, have we a shilling to spare?"
It was so, and Jane knew it; but her husband's health was above every consideration in the world. "We must reduce our expenses," she said. "We must cease to live as we are living now. We will move into a smaller house, and keep one servant, and I will turn maid-of-all-work."
She laughed quite merrily; but Mr. Halliburton detected a serious meaning in her tone. He shook his head.
"No, Jane; that time, I hope, will never come."
He lay awake all that night buried in reflection. Do you know what this night-reflection is, when it comes to us in all its racking intensity22? Surging over his brain, like the wild waves that chase each other on the ocean, came the thought, "What will become of my wife and children if I die?" Thought after thought, they all resolved themselves into that one focus:—"I have made no provision for my wife and children: what will become of them if I am taken?"
Mr. Halliburton had one good habit—it was possible that he had learnt it from his wife, for it was hers in no ordinary degree—the habit of looking steadfastly23 into the face of trouble. Not to groan24 and grumble25 at it—to sigh and lament26 that no one else's trouble ever was so great before—but to see how it might best be met and contended with; how the best could be made of it.
The only feasible way he could see, was that of insuring his life. He possessed27 neither lands nor money. Did he attempt to put by a portion of his income, it would take years and years to accumulate into a sum worth mentioning. Why, how long would it take him to economise only a thousand pounds? No. There was only one way—that of life insurance. It was an idea that would have occurred to most of us. He did not know how much it would take from his yearly income to effect it. A great deal, he was afraid; for he was approaching what is called middle life.
He had no secrets from his wife. He consulted her upon every point; she was his best friend, his confidante, his gentle counsellor, and he had no intention of concealing28 the step he was about to take. Why should he?
"Jane," he began, when they were at breakfast the next morning, "do you know what I have been thinking of all night?"
"Trouble, I am sure," she answered. "You have been very restless."
"Not exactly trouble"—for he did not choose to acknowledge, even to himself, that a strange sense of trouble did seem to rest on his heart and to weigh it down. "I have been thinking more of precaution than trouble."
"Precaution?" echoed Jane, looking at him.
"Ay, love. And the astonishing part of the business, to myself, is that I never thought of the necessity for this precaution before."
Jane divined now what he meant. Often and often had the idea occurred to her—"Should my husband's health or life fail, we are destitute29." Not for herself did she so much care, but for her children.
"That sudden attack last night has brought me reflection," he resumed. "Life is uncertain with the best of us. It may be no more uncertain with me than with others; but I feel that I must act as though it were so. Jane, were I taken, there would be no provision for you."
"No," she quietly said.
"And therefore I must set about making one without delay, as far as I can. I shall insure my life."
Jane did not answer immediately. "It will take a great deal of money, Edgar," she presently said.
"I fear it will: but it must be done. What's the matter, Jane? You don't look hopeful over it."
"Because, were you to insure your life, to pay the yearly premium30, and our home expenses, would necessitate31 your working as hard as you do now."
"Well?" said he. "Of course it would."
"In any case, our expenses shall be much reduced; of that I am determined," she went on somewhat dreamily, more it seemed in soliloquy than to her husband. "But, with this premium to pay in addition——"
"Jane," he interrupted, "there's not the least necessity for my relaxing my labours. I shall not think of doing it. I may not be very strong, but I am not ill. As to reducing our expenses, I see no help for that, inasmuch as I must draw from them for the premium."
"If you only can keep your health, Edgar, it is certainly what ought to be done—to insure your life. The thought has often crossed me."
"Why did you never suggest it?"
"I scarcely know. I believe I did not like to do so. And I really did not see how the premium was to be paid. How much shall you insure it for?"
"I thought of two thousand pounds. Could we afford more?"
"I think not. What would be the yearly premium for that sum?"
Jane was sighing heavily. A weight seemed to have fallen upon her. "To talk of life-insurance puts me too much in mind of death," she murmured.
"Now, Jane, you are never going to turn goose!" he gaily33 said. "I have heard of persons who will not make a will, because it brings them a fancy they must be going to die. Insuring my life will not bring death any the quicker to me: I hope I shall be here many a year yet. Why, Jane, I may live to pay the insurance over and over again in annual premiums34! Better that I had put by the money in a bank, I shall think then."
"The worst of putting by money in a bank, or in any other way, is, that you are not compelled to put it," observed Jane, looking up a little from her depression. "What ought to be put by—what is intended to be put by—too often goes in present wants, and putting by ends in name only: whereas, in life-assurance, the premium must be paid. Edgar," she added, passing to a different subject, "I wonder what we shall make of our boys?"
Mr. Halliburton's cheek flushed. "They shall go to college, please God—though I have not been able to get there myself."
"Oh, I hope so! One or two of them, at any rate."
Little difficulty did there appear to be in the plan to Mr. Halliburton. His boys should enter the University, although he had not done so: the future of our children appears hopeful and easy to most of us. William and Frank were in the school attached to King's College: of which you hear Mr. Halliburton was now a professor. Edgar—never called anything but "Gar"—went to a private school, but he would soon be entered at King's College. Remarkably35 well-educated boys for their years, were the young Halliburtons. Mr. Halliburton and Jane had taken care of that. Home teaching was more efficient than school: both combined had rendered them unusually intelligent and advanced. Naturally intellectual, gifted with excellent qualities of mind and heart, Mrs. Halliburton had not failed to do her duty by them. She spared no pains; she knew how children ought to be brought up, and she did her duty well. Ah, my friends! only lay a good foundation in their earlier years, and your children will grow up to bless you.
"Jane, I wonder which office will be the best to insure in?"
Jane began to recall the names of some that were familiar to her.
"The Phœnix?" suggested she.
Mr. Halliburton laughed. "I think that's only for fire, Jane. I am not sure, though." In truth, he knew little about insurance offices himself.
"I'll inquire all about it to-day," said he.
"I wonder if the premium will take a hundred a year, Edgar?"
He could not tell. He feared it might. "I wish Jane," he observed, "that I had insured my life when I first married. The premium would have been small then, and we might have managed to spare it."
"Ay," she answered. "Sometimes I look back to things that I might have done in the past years: and I did not do them. Now, the time has gone by!"
"Well, it has not gone by for insuring," said Mr. Halliburton, rising from the breakfast-table and speaking in gay tones. "Half-past eight!" he cried, looking at his watch. "Good-bye, Jane," said he, bending to kiss her. "Wish me luck."
"A weighty insurance and a small premium," she said, laughing. "But you are not going about it now?"
"Of course not. The offices would not be open. I shall take an opportunity of doing so in the course of the day."
Mr. Halliburton departed on his usual duties. It was a warm day in April. His first attendance was King's College, and there he remained for the morning. Then he proceeded to gain information about the various offices and their respective merits: finally fixed37 upon the one he should apply to, and bent38 his steps towards it.
It was situated39 in the heart of the City, in a very busy part of it. The office also appeared to be busy, for several people were in it when Mr. Halliburton entered. A young man came forward to know his business.
"I wish to insure my life," said Mr. Halliburton. "How must I proceed about it?"
"Oh yes, sir. Mr. Procter, will you attend to this gentleman?"
Mr. Halliburton was marshalled to an inner room, where a gentlemanly man received him. He explained his business in detail, stated his age, and the sum he wished to insure for. Every information was politely afforded him; and a paper, with certain printed questions, was given him to fill up at his leisure, and then to be returned.
Mr. Halliburton glanced over it. "You require a certificate of my birth from the parish register where I was baptized, I perceive," he remarked. "Why so? In stating my age, I have stated it correctly."
The gentleman smiled. "Of that I make no doubt," he said, "for you look younger than the age you have given me. Our office makes it a rule in most cases to require the certificate from the register. All applicants40 are not scrupulous41 about telling the truth, and we have been obliged to adopt it in self-defence. We have had cases, we have indeed, sir, where we have insured a life, and then found—though perhaps not until the actual death has taken place—that the insurer was ten years older than he asserted. Therefore we demand a certificate. It does occasionally happen that applicants can bring well-known men to testify to their age, and then we do not mind dispensing42 with it."
Mr. Halliburton sent his thoughts round in a circle. There was no one in London who knew his age of their own positive knowledge; so it was useless to think of that. "There will be no difficulty in the matter," he said aloud. "I can get the certificate up from Devonshire in the course of two or three days by writing for it. My father was rector of the church where I was christened. This will be all, then? To fill up this paper and bring you the certificate."
"All; with the exception of being examined by our physician."
"What! is it necessary to be examined by a physician?" exclaimed Mr. Halliburton. "The paper states that I must hand in a report from my ordinary medical attendant. He will not give you a bad report of me," he added, smiling, "for it is little enough I have troubled him. I believe the worst thing he has attended me for has been a bad cold."
"So much the better," remarked the gentleman. "You do not look very strong."
"Very strong I don't think I am. I am too hard worked; get too little rest and recreation. It was suspecting that I am not so strong as I might be that set me thinking it might be well to insure my life for the sake of my wife and children," he ingenuously43 added, in his straightforward44 manner. "If I could count upon living and working on until I am an old man, I should not do so."
Again the gentleman smiled. "Looks are deceitful," he observed. "Nothing more so. Sometimes those who look the most delicate live the longest."
"You cannot say I look delicate," returned Mr. Halliburton.
"I did not say it. I consider that you do not look robust45; but that is not saying that you look delicate. You may be a perfectly46 healthy man for all I can say to the contrary."
He ran his eyes over Mr. Halliburton as he spoke47; over his tall, fine form, his dark hair, amidst which not a streak48 of grey mingled49, his clearly-cut features, and his complexion50, bright as a woman's. Was there suspicion in that complexion? "A handsome man, at any rate," thought the gazer, "if not a robust one."
"It will be necessary, then, that I see your physician?" asked Mr. Halliburton.
"Yes. It cannot be dispensed51 with. We would not insure without it. He attends here twice a week. In the intervening days, he may be seen in Savile-row, from three to five. It is Dr. Carrington. His days for coming here are Mondays and Thursdays."
"And this is Friday," remarked Mr. Halliburton. "I shall probably go up to him."
Mr. Halliburton said good morning, and came away with his paper. "It's great nonsense, my seeing this doctor!" he said to himself as he hastened home to dinner, which he knew he must have kept waiting. "But I suppose it is necessary as a general rule; and of course they won't make me an exception."
Hurrying over his dinner, in a manner that prevented its doing him any good—as Jane assured him—he sat down to his desk when it was over and wrote for the certificate of his birth. Folding and sealing the letter, he put on his hat to go out again.
"Shall you go to Savile-row this afternoon?" Jane inquired.
"If I can by any possibility get my teaching over in time," he answered. "Young Finchley's hour is four o'clock, but I can put him off until the evening. I dare say I shall get up there."
By dint of hurrying, Mr. Halliburton contrived52 to reach Savile-row, and arrived there in much heat at half-past four. There was no necessity for hurrying there on this particular day, but he felt impatient to get the business over; as if speed now could atone53 for past neglect. Dr. Carrington was at home but engaged, and Mr. Halliburton was shown into a room. Three or four others were waiting there; whether ordinary patients, or whether mere54 applicants of form like himself, he could not tell; and it was their turn to go in before it was his.
But his turn came at last, and he was ushered55 into the presence of the doctor—a little man, fair and reserved, with powder on his head.
Reserved in ordinary intercourse56, but certainly not reserved in asking questions. Mr. Halliburton had never been so rigidly57 questioned before. What disorders58 had he had, and what had he not had? What were his habits, past and present? One question came at last: "Do you feel thoroughly strong?—healthy, elastic59?"
"I feel languid in hot weather," replied Mr. Halliburton.
"Um! Appetite sound and good?"
"Generally speaking. It has not been so good of late."
"Breathing all right?"
"Yes; it is a little tight sometimes."
"Um! Subject to a cough?"
"I have no settled cough. A sort of hacking60 cough comes on at night occasionally. I attribute it to fatigue61."
"Um! Will you open your shirt? Just unbutton it here"—touching the front—"and your flannel62 waistcoat, if you wear one."
Mr. Halliburton bared his chest in obedience63 and the doctor sounded it, and then put down his ear. Apparently64 his ear did not serve him sufficiently65, for he took a small instrument out of a drawer, placed it on the chest, and then put his ear to that, changing the position of the instrument three or four times.
"That will do," he said at length.
He turned to put up his stethoscope again, and Mr. Halliburton drew the edges of his shirt together and buttoned them.
"Why don't you wear flannel waistcoats?" asked the doctor, with quite a sharp accent, his head down in the drawer.
"I do wear them in winter; but in warm weather I leave them off. It was only last week that I discarded them."
"Was ever such folly66 known!" ejaculated Dr. Carrington. "One would think people were born without common sense. Half the patients who come to me say they leave off their flannels67 in summer! Why, it is in summer they are most needed! And this warm weather won't last either. Go home, sir, and put one on at once."
"Certainly, if you think it right," said Mr. Halliburton with a smile. "I thank you for telling me."
He took up his hat and waited. The doctor appeared to wait for him to go. "I understood at the office that you would give me a paper testifying that you had examined me," explained Mr. Halliburton.
"Ah—but I can't give it," said the doctor.
"Why not, sir?"
"Because I am not satisfied with you. I cannot recommend you as a healthy life."
Mr. Halliburton's pulses quickened a little. "Sir!" he repeated. "Not a healthy life?"
"Not sufficiently healthy for insurance."
"Why! what is the matter with me?" he rejoined.
Dr. Carrington looked him full in the face for the space of a minute before replying. "I have had that question asked me before by parties whom I have felt obliged to decline as I am now declining you," he said, "and my answer has not always been palatable68 to them."
"It will be palatable to me, sir; in so far as that I desire to be made acquainted with the truth. What do you find amiss with me?"
"The lungs are diseased."
A chill fell over Mr. Halliburton. "Not extensively, I trust? Not beyond hope of recovery?"
"Were I to say not extensively, I should be deceiving you; and you tell me that you wish for the truth. They are extensively diseased——"
A mortal pallor overspread Mr. Halliburton's face, and he sank into a chair. "Not for myself," he gasped69, as Dr. Carrington drew nearer to him. "I have a wife and children. If I die, they will want bread to eat."
"But you did not hear me out," returned the doctor, proceeding70 with equanimity71, as if he had not been interrupted. "They are extensively diseased, but not beyond a hope of recovery. I do not say it is a strong hope; but a hope there is, as I judge, provided you use the right means and take care of yourself."
"What am I to do? What are the means?"
"Yes."
"Then got away from it. Go where you can have pure air and a clear atmosphere. That's the first and chief thing; and that's most essential. Not for a few weeks or months, you understand me—going out for a change of air, as people call it—you must leave London entirely73; go away altogether."
"But it will be impossible," urged Mr. Halliburton. "My work lies in London."
"Ah!" said the doctor; "too many have been with me with whom it was the same case. But, I assure you that you must leave it; or it will be London versus74 life. You appear to me to be one who never ought to have come to London——You were not born in it?" he abruptly75 added.
"I never saw it until I was eighteen. I was born and reared in Devonshire."
"Just so. I knew it. Those born and reared in London become acclimatized to it, generally speaking, and it does not hurt them. It does not hurt numbers who are strangers: they find London as healthy a spot for them as any on the face of the globe. But there are a few who cannot and ought not to live in London; and I judge you to be one of them."
"Has this state of health been coming on long?"
"Yes, for some years. Had you remained in Devonshire, you might have been a sound man all your life. My only advice to you is—get away from London. You cannot live long if you remain in it."
Mr. Halliburton thanked Dr. Carrington and went out. How things had changed for him! What had gone with the day's beauty?—with the blue sky, the bright sun? The sky was blue still, and the sun shining; but darkness seemed to intervene between his eyes and outward things. Dying? A shiver went through him as he thought of Jane and the children, and a sick feeling of despair settled on his spirit.
点击收听单词发音
1 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 dint | |
n.由于,靠;凹坑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 perseverance | |
n.坚持不懈,不屈不挠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 stipend | |
n.薪贴;奖学金;养老金 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 justifiable | |
adj.有理由的,无可非议的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 ravenous | |
adj.极饿的,贪婪的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 coveted | |
adj.令人垂涎的;垂涎的,梦寐以求的v.贪求,觊觎(covet的过去分词);垂涎;贪图 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 conscientiousness | |
责任心 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 ministry | |
n.(政府的)部;牧师 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 plodded | |
v.沉重缓慢地走(路)( plod的过去式和过去分词 );努力从事;沉闷地苦干;缓慢进行(尤指艰难枯燥的工作) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 warehouse | |
n.仓库;vt.存入仓库 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 ailments | |
疾病(尤指慢性病),不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 heeding | |
v.听某人的劝告,听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 steadfastly | |
adv.踏实地,不变地;岿然;坚定不渝 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 grumble | |
vi.抱怨;咕哝;n.抱怨,牢骚;咕哝,隆隆声 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 lament | |
n.悲叹,悔恨,恸哭;v.哀悼,悔恨,悲叹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 concealing | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 destitute | |
adj.缺乏的;穷困的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 premium | |
n.加付款;赠品;adj.高级的;售价高的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 necessitate | |
v.使成为必要,需要 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 premiums | |
n.费用( premium的名词复数 );保险费;额外费用;(商品定价、贷款利息等以外的)加价 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 atlas | |
n.地图册,图表集 | |
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 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 applicants | |
申请人,求职人( applicant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 scrupulous | |
adj.审慎的,小心翼翼的,完全的,纯粹的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 dispensing | |
v.分配( dispense的现在分词 );施与;配(药) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 ingenuously | |
adv.率直地,正直地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 straightforward | |
adj.正直的,坦率的;易懂的,简单的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 robust | |
adj.强壮的,强健的,粗野的,需要体力的,浓的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 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: |
|
|
48 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: |
|
|
49 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 dispensed | |
v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 );施与;配(药) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 atone | |
v.赎罪,补偿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 ushered | |
v.引,领,陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 rigidly | |
adv.刻板地,僵化地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 disorders | |
n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 );凌乱;骚乱;(身心、机能)失调 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 elastic | |
n.橡皮圈,松紧带;adj.有弹性的;灵活的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 hacking | |
n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 flannel | |
n.法兰绒;法兰绒衣服 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 flannels | |
法兰绒男裤; 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 palatable | |
adj.可口的,美味的;惬意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 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: |
|
|
70 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 equanimity | |
n.沉着,镇定 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 stifling | |
a.令人窒息的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 versus | |
prep.以…为对手,对;与…相比之下 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |