“It will be dull enough, anyhow,” said Dolly, fretfully. “Besides, it’s awfully1 bourgeois2 to go to the theater with one’s husband.”
“Bourgeois,” I observed, “is an epithet3 which the riffraff apply to what is respectable, and the aristocracy to what is decent.”
“But it’s not a nice thing to be, all the same,” said Dolly, who is impervious4 to the most penetrating5 remark.
“You’re in no danger of it,” I hastened to assure her.
“How should you describe me, then?” she asked, leaning forward, with a smile.
“I should describe you, Lady Mickleham,” I replied discreetly6, “as being a little lower than the angels.”
Dolly’s smile was almost a laugh as she asked:
“How much lower, please, Mr. Carter?”
“Just by the depth of your dimples,” said I thoughtlessly.
Dolly became immensely grave.
“I thought,” said she, “that we never mentioned them now, Mr. Carter.”
“Did we ever?” I asked innocently.
“I remember being in very low water more than one evening there.”
“Yes; you told me you were terribly hard-up.”
“There was an election in our division that year,” I remarked, “and I remitted8 30 percent of my rents.”
“You did—to M. Blanc,” said Dolly. “Oh, and you were very dreary9! You said you’d wasted your life and your time and your opportunities.”
“Oh, you mustn’t suppose I never have any proper feelings,” said I complacently10.
“I think you were hardly yourself.”
“Do be more charitable.”
“And you said that your only chance was in gaining the affection of—”
“Yes, you were. You were sitting close by me—”
“Oh, then, it doesn’t count,” said I, rallying a little.
“On a bench. You remember the bench?”
“No, I don’t,” said I, with a kind but firm smile.
“Not the bench?”
“No.”
Dolly looked at me, then she asked in an insinuating12 tone—
“When did you forget it, Mr. Carter?”
“The day you were buried,” I rejoined.
“I see. Well, you said then what you couldn’t possibly have meant.”
“I dare say. I often did.”
“That they were—”
“That what were?”
“Why, the—the—what we’re talking about.”
“Yes, the blemishes. You said they were the most—”
“Oh, well, it was a facon de parler.”
“But I said nothing!” cried Dolly.
I did not care to enter upon that discussion, and a pause followed. Then Dolly, in a timid manner, asked me—
“Do you remember the dreadful thing that happened the same evening?”
“That chances to remain in my memory,” I admitted.
“I’ve always thought it kind of you never to speak of it,” said she.
“It is best forgotten,” said I, smiling.
“We should have said the same about anybody,” protested Dolly.
“Certainly. We were only trying to be smart,” said I.
“And it was horribly unjust.”
“I quite agree with you, Lady Mickleham.”
“Besides, I didn’t know anything about him then. He had only arrived that day, you see.”
“Really we were not to blame,” I urged.
“Oh, but doesn’t it seem funny?”
There was a pause. Then the faintest of smiles appeared on Dolly’s face.
“He shouldn’t have worn such clothes,” she said, as though in self defense19. “Anybody would have looked absurd in them.”
“It was all the clothes,” I agreed. “Besides, when a man doesn’t know a place, he always moons about and looks—”
“Yes. Rather awkward, doesn’t he, Mr. Carter?”
“At us, please.”
“That was very absurd of you,” said Dolly.
“It was certainly unreasonable22 of us,” said I.
“We ought have known he was a gentleman.”
“It was a most curious mistake to make,” said Dolly.
“O, well, it’s put right now,” said I.
“Oh, Mr. Carter, do you remember mamma’s face when we described him?”
“I said he was—ugly,” whispered Dolly.
“And I said—something worse,” murmured I.
“And mamma knew at once from our description that it was—”
“She saw it in a minute,” said I.
“And then you went away.”
“Well, I rather suppose I did,” said I.
“Mamma is just a little like the Dowager sometimes,” said Dolly.
“There is a touch now and then,” I conceded.
“And when I was introduced to him the next day I absolutely blushed.”
“I don’t altogether wonder at that,” I observed.
“But it wasn’t as if he’d heard what we were saying.”
“No; but he’d seen what we were doing.”
“Conversing confidentially,” said I.
“And a week later you went home!”
“Just one week later,” said I.
There was a long pause.
“Well, you’ll take me to the theater?” asked Dolly, with something which, if I were so disposed, I might consider a sigh.
“I’ve seen the piece twice,” said I.
“I’ve seen some things much oftener,” I observed.
“I’ll get a nice girl for you to talk to, and I’ll have a young man.”
“I don’t want my girl to be too nice,” I observed.
“She shall be pretty,” said Dolly generously.
“I don’t mind if I do come with you,” said I. “What becomes of Archie?”
“He’s going to take his mother and his sisters to the Albert Hall.”
My face brightened.
“I am unreasonable,” I admitted.
“Sometimes you are,” said Dolly.
“I have much to be thankful for. Have you ever observed a small boy eat a penny ice?”
“Of course I have,” said Dolly.
“What does he do when he’s finished it?”
“Stop, I suppose.”
“On the contrary,” said I, “he licks the glass.”
“Yes, he does,” said Dolly meditatively27.
“It’s not so bad—licking the glass,” said I.
Dolly stood opposite me, smiling. At this moment Archie entered. He had been working at his lathe28. He is very fond of making things which he doesn’t want, and then giving them to people who have no use for them.
He stopped, paralyzed by a cry from Dolly—
“Archie, what in the world are you wearing?”
I turned a startled gaze upon Archie.
“It’s just an old suit I routed out,” said he apologetically.
I looked at Dolly; her eyes were closed shut, and she gasped—
“My dear, dear boy, go and change it!”
“I don’t see why it’s not—”
“Oh, all right.”
Archie, who is very docile32, withdrew. A guilty silence reigned33 for some moments. Then Dolly opened her eyes. “It was the suit,” she said, with a shudder. “Oh, how it all came back to me!”
“I could wish,” I observed, taking my hat, “that it would all come back to me.”
“I wonder if you mean that!”
“As much as I ever did,” said I earnestly.
“And that is—?
“Quite enough.”
“How tiresome you are!” she said, turning away with a smile.
Outside I met Archie in another suit.
“A quick change, eh, my boy?” said he.
“It took just a week,” I remarked absently.
Archie stared.
点击收听单词发音
1 awfully | |
adv.可怕地,非常地,极端地 | |
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2 bourgeois | |
adj./n.追求物质享受的(人);中产阶级分子 | |
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3 epithet | |
n.(用于褒贬人物等的)表述形容词,修饰语 | |
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4 impervious | |
adj.不能渗透的,不能穿过的,不易伤害的 | |
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5 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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6 discreetly | |
ad.(言行)审慎地,慎重地 | |
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7 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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8 remitted | |
v.免除(债务),宽恕( remit的过去式和过去分词 );使某事缓和;寄回,传送 | |
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9 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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10 complacently | |
adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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11 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 insinuating | |
adj.曲意巴结的,暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 );巧妙或迂回地潜入;(使)缓慢进入;慢慢伸入 | |
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13 blemishes | |
n.(身体的)瘢点( blemish的名词复数 );伤疤;瑕疵;污点 | |
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14 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
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15 candid | |
adj.公正的,正直的;坦率的 | |
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16 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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17 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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18 mused | |
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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19 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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20 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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21 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
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22 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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23 scouted | |
寻找,侦察( scout的过去式和过去分词 ); 物色(优秀运动员、演员、音乐家等) | |
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24 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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25 defiantly | |
adv.挑战地,大胆对抗地 | |
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26 tiresome | |
adj.令人疲劳的,令人厌倦的 | |
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27 meditatively | |
adv.冥想地 | |
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28 lathe | |
n.车床,陶器,镟床 | |
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29 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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30 besought | |
v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的过去式和过去分词 );(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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31 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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32 docile | |
adj.驯服的,易控制的,容易教的 | |
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33 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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