She sat up, and from that brown nook on the hill-side looked out upon a world that was all white mist, with a great silver sun struggling out of the east. Each blade of grass had its droplet3 of dew. The air was still as deep water. From a wood in the valley came the sound of the singing of birds.
Her two companions were still asleep, Joan Gaunt lying with her mouth wide open, her face looking grey and old. Eve picked up an armful of hay, went a few paces forward, and sat down so that she could see everything without having to look over the bodies of the sleeping women.
It was like watching the birth of a world. The veil of white mist hid miraculous4 happenings, and the singing of the birds down yonder was like the exultation5 of souls that beheld6 and marvelled7. Mystery! The stillness seemed to wait. In a little while the white veil would be withdrawn8.
Then the vapour became full of sudden motion. It rolled in great drifts, rose, broke into little wisps of smoke, and half lost itself in yellow light. The interplay was wonderful to watch. Sometimes the mist closed in again, hiding what it had half revealed, only to drift away once more like torn masses of gossamer10. A great yellow ray of sunlight struck abruptly11 across the valley, fell upon the wood where the birds were singing, and splashed it with gold. Then the mist seemed to be drawn9 up like a curtain. Colour came into the landscape, the bronze and yellow of the budding oaks, the delicate green of young beech12 leaves, the sables13 of yews14 and firs, the blue of the sky, the green of the fields. It was all wet, fragrant15, glittering, like an elf world lifted suddenly out of the waters of an enchanted16 sea.
Someone sneezed. Eve turned sharply, and found Joan Gaunt was awake, and sitting up. Wisps of hay had got tangled18 in her hair, her blouse looked like an impressionist sunset, and one side of her face was red and mottled from lying on the canvas knapsack. She had been awake for ten minutes, and had pulled out a notebook and was scribbling19 in it with a pencil.
Eve thought that she was turning the May morning into a word picture, but she soon noticed that Joan Gaunt’s eyes did not rise above the level of her notebook.
“Busy already?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?”
“What?”
“Why, all that.”
Eve swept a hand towards the valley where the smoking squadrons of the mist were in full flight before the gold spears of the sun.
“It looks as though it has been abominably20 damp. I’m quite stiff and I’ve caught cold.”
She blew her nose hard, and, like the impervious21 enthusiast22 that she was, resumed her scribbling. Eve left her undisturbed, and returning to her corner of the recess23 let her hair down, and spent ten minutes brushing it. She had very fine hair, it reached well below her waist, and Lizzie Straker, who had just woke up, found something to say on the subject.
“It must be a nuisance, having a fleece like that.”
“Why?”
“So beastly hot. I should like to have mine cut quite short.”
The obvious answer, though Eve did not give it, was that some people’s hair did not matter.
She went exploring in quest of somebody who would provide them with towels and water, and also with breakfast. And when they did get breakfast at a little farmhouse24 over the hill, her companions had to thank Eve for it, for the farmer’s wife was not a persuadable person, and would certainly have refused anything to Joan Gaunt or Lizzie Straker. Their white blouses were splashed and streaked26 with yellow, but luckily the sitting-room27 was rather dark, and the farmer’s wife was not observant.
“You must stop at the next village, and buy a couple of new blouses!”
“Why, what does it matter?”
“They really look too terrible!”
“I suppose you don’t want to be too conspicuous32 when you are out to burn houses!”
This was sound sense, and they halted that day within a mile or two of Horsham and let Eve go on alone to buy two new blouses. The transfiguration was contrived33 in the corner of a wood, and the egg-stained relics34 were rolled up and stowed away in their knapsacks.
Apparently35 they were expected at Horsham, not by the public or the police, but by the elderly gentlewoman at whose front door Joan Gaunt knocked. They were received with enthusiasm by an excitable lady with a high, narrow forehead and prominent teeth. She could talk nearly as fast as Lizzie Straker, and she gave them a most excellent tea.
“I think it is splendid, perfectly36 splendid, this heroic uprising of the women of England. The Government can’t stop us. How can they stop us? We have got the men stalemated.”
Eve did not take to her hostess, and their hostess did not take to Eve. She looked at her with the veiled prejudices of a very plain woman for a girl who had more than good looks. Moreover, Eve had recovered her sense of humour, and these enthusiasts37 were rendered suspicious and uneasy by a glimmer38 of fun in the eyes. People who could laugh were not vindictively39 and properly in earnest.
“They can’t stop us. They can’t crush women who are not afraid of dying! Isn’t it glorious the way those noble girls have fought and refused to eat in prison? I know one woman who kept four wardresses at bay for half an hour. She kicked and struggled, and they had to give up trying to feed her. What fools we are making the men look! I feel I want to laugh in the faces of all the men I meet!”
Eve asked mildly: “And do you?”
“Do what?”
“Laugh when you meet them?”
“Well, no, not quite. It wouldn’t be dignified40, would it? But I think they see the triumph in my eyes.”
Their hostess had forgotten that a letter had come for Joan Gaunt, and she only remembered it when Joan asked if it had arrived.
“Of course—how silly of me! I locked it up in my bureau. I was so fascinated listening to all your adventures.”
She fetched the letter, and Joan Gaunt read it. She smiled her leathery smile, and passed the letter over to Lizzie Straker.
“To-morrow night, where the road to Godalming branches off from the Horsham-Guildford road.”
The hostess thrilled and upset her cup.
“How exciting—how splendid! I can guess, yes, what you are going to do. And you will be able to stay the night here? How nice. The people here are such barbarians41; so narrow. I try to spread the great ideal, but they don’t seem to care.”
At all events she treated them nobly, and Eve was able to enjoy the sensuous42 delight of a good hot bath. She went to bed early, leaving her hostess and the two pioneers of progress sitting well forward in their chairs, and debating the conversion43 of those women who clung sentimentally44 to the old traditions.
Their hostess was curious about Eve.
“She is learning the discipline.”
“I have very quick instincts. I don’t think I quite trust that young woman.”
Lizzie Straker, who was always ready to argue about anything, simply because she had a temperament47 that disagreed, rushed to defend Eve.
“Why, what’s the matter with her? She came down to starving point, anyhow, for a principle. If that isn’t being sincere, what is?”
Their hostess was not accustomed to being met and attacked with such impetuosity.
“She doesn’t strike me as belonging to us.”
“Why not?”
“As I explained, it was my impression. She doesn’t strike me as being serious minded.”
“Anyway, she didn’t sit in a chair and theorise. She’s been through the real thing.”
Joan Gaunt had to interpose, for the gentlewoman of Horsham was showing signs of huffiness.
“Mrs. Falconer sent her with us.”
“Mrs. Falconer? That noble woman. I am satisfied. She should know.”
They left Horsham about five o’clock the following evening, their knapsacks well packed with food. The gentlewoman of Horsham dismissed them with the fervour of an early Christian48, and held Joan Gaunt’s hands for fully49 half a minute.
“It has been such an experience for me. It has been like seeing one’s dearest ideals in the flesh. God bless you!”
Joan Gaunt went striding along the Guildford road like a veteran centurion50, grim and purposeful. Lizzie Straker had a headache, and Eve offered to carry her knapsack and coat, but Lizzie Straker had a kind of soldier pride. She would carry her own kit51 till she dropped.
“Don’t fuss me, old girl. I’m all right.”
Eve enjoyed the long walk, perhaps because her companions were silent. A soft spring dusk was melting over the country. Birds were singing. There were yellow gates to the west. The hedgerows were clean and unsoiled by dust, and a delightful52 freshness distilled53 out of the blue-green grass.
It was pitch dark long before they reached the point where the road branched off to Godalming, though the sky was crowded with stars. Joan Gaunt had bought a little electric hand-lamp in Horsham, and it served to light up the sign-posts and the dial of her watch.
“Here we are.”
She had flashed the light on a sign-post arm and read “Godalming.”
“What’s the time?”
“About half-past ten.”
“Galahad won’t be here till midnight.”
“No. You have time for a rest.”
Lizzie Straker was fagged out. Eve could tell that by the flatness of her voice. They went and sat in a dry ditch under the shadow of a hedge, and put on their jackets, for the double purpose of keeping warm and hiding their white blouses. Lizzie Straker lay down with her knapsack under her head, and in ten minutes she was asleep.
“We won’t talk!”
“No. I’m quite ready for a rest.”
A couple of farm labourers passed, one of them airing a grievance55, the condemning56 of his pig by some sanitary57 official. “I be’unt a fool. A touch of de joint58 evil, dat’s what it be. But he comes and he swears it be tu-ber-coo-lousis, and says I be to slaughter59 d’beast.” The voice died away, bemoaning60 the fate of the pig, and Eve felt a drowsiness61 descending62 upon her eyelids63. She remembered Joan Gaunt sitting erect64 and watchful65 beside her, and then dreams came.
She woke suddenly to find two huge glaring eyes lighting66 the road. They were the headlights of a stationary67 motor, and she heard the purr of the engine turning dead slow. Someone was speaking. A high pitched, jerky and excitable voice was giving orders.
“Turn out the headlights, Jones, and light the oil lamps. You had better shove in another can of petrol. Well, here we are; on the tick—what!”
Joan Gaunt’s voice answered him.
“Last time you were an hour late.”
“Asleep in the ditch.”
Eve woke Lizzie Straker. The headlights went out suddenly, and two figures approached, one of them carrying the tail lamp of the car.
“Hallo, it’s Galahad!”
Lizzie Straker’s short sleep had restored her vitality69. She spluttered enthusiastically at the man.
“Hallo, old sport! here we are, ready for the limelight. Plenty of paraffin and shavings?”
“Rather!”
He turned the lamp on Eve so that she could see nothing but a round yellow eye.
“New comrade? Greetings!”
Joan Gaunt introduced them.
“Mr. Lawrence Kentucky—Miss Eve Carfax. We call him our Galahad.”
The man laughed, and his laughter was falsetto. She could not see him, except when he swung the lamp away from her, and then but dimly, but she received the impression of something tall, fidgety, and excitable.
“Delightful! One more fair lady to champion. Great adventures, great adventures!”
Eve soon noticed that Lizzie Straker was particularly interested in Mr. Lawrence Kentucky. She hung close, talking in slangy superlatives, and trying to spread her personality all round him.
“How many miles an hour to-day?”
“Oh, we came easy! Respectable tourists, you know. All ready, Jones?”
“All ready, sir.”
“Supposing we heave up the anchor? There’s plenty of room for three at the back.”
“But what about the house? Do you know it?”
“Rather! We’re thorough, you know. Jones and I went over all the ground two days ago. We have it all mapped out to a T.”
“I’m going to set light to this one. Joan had the last.”
“All right, your honour, although Miss Gaunt’s one up.”
Joan Gaunt climbed in independently. Lizzie Straker waited to be helped. Mr. Kentucky helped Eve, because he had discovered something of the eternal feminine.
To Eve the adventure began by seeming utterly70 unreal. Even when the motor drew up in a dark lane, and the lights were turned out after the attacking party had loaded themselves with bags of shavings, tow, and a can of petrol, she was hardly convinced that she was off to help in burning down a house. She asked herself why she was doing it. The spirit of revolt failed to answer in a voice that was passionate71 enough to be convincing.
They went in single file, Lawrence Kentucky leading the way. He carried an electric torch which he used from time to time like a boy out for mischief72. They climbed a gate, crossed a grass field, and came to a fence backed by straggling laurels73 and hollies74. There was a place where two or three of the fence palings were rotten and had been kicked in by Mr. Kentucky when he had come to spy out the land. They squeezed through, one by one.
Someone whispered to Eve as she stooped to pass through.
“Mind the nails. I’ll show you a light.”
His torch glowed, and she had a momentary75 glimpse of his face, thin, neurotic76, with restless eyes, and a mouth that had the voracious77 look that one sees in men who are always hungry for some new sensation. She could have imagined him swearing volubly, laughing hysterically79, biting his pipe stems in two, a whimsical egoist who rushed hither and thither80 to escape from being bored.
“All right? Rather like playing oranges and lemons.”
She knew at once that he wanted to flirt81 with her, but she had no desire to cut out Lizzie Straker.
They threaded through a big shrubbery, and came out against a black mass piled in the middle of a broad lawn. It was the house they had come to burn.
“The kitchen window, Jones—at it with the glass-cutter! Who’ll stay outside and keep cave?”
Eve offered herself.
“Why, you’ll miss half the fun.”
“I don’t mind.”
The grass on the lawn promised a good hay crop. There was a wooden seat built round the trunk of an old lime, and Eve settled herself there after the others had disappeared. The night was absolutely soundless, stars scattered82 like dust above the solid parapet and low roof of the red brick Georgian house. It stood there, mute, deserted83, with sightless eyes, and a sudden pity seized on Eve. It was as though the house were alive, and she was helping84 to do it to death. Houses were part of life. They held a spiritual and impalpable something that mattered. They had souls. She began to watch, as though she was to be present at a tragedy, with a feeling of tension at her heart.
Who had lived there? To whom did the house belong? Had children been born yonder, and had tired eyes closed in death? Had children played in the garden, and under this tree? It was illogical to pity bricks and mortar85, and yet this sentimental45 mood of hers belonged to those more exquisite86 sensibilities that save life from being nothing better than a savage31 scramble87.
A streak25 of light showed at one of the windows. Eve straightened herself, rested her head against the trunk of the tree, and held her breath. The streak of light spread into a wavering, fluctuating glow, just as if the heart of the old house were palpitating angrily. But Eve was allowed no leisure for the play of such phantasies. The incendiaries returned.
“Come along!”
Lizzie Straker was almost hysterical78.
“It’s going splendidly—splendidly! We found a big cupboard full of rubbish under the stairs. I lit it. Yes, it’s my work!”
Eve became conscious of a growing indignation as they beat a retreat back through the shrubbery and across the field to the lane. They ran, and even the act of running seemed to her shameful88. What a noble business was this sneaking89 about at one in the morning with petrol cans and bags of shavings!
“She’s going up in smoke all right. We did that pretty smartly!”
“It has been heroic, hasn’t it?”
To her he was no better than a mean little boy.
They crowded into the car. The lamps were lit, and the engine started. The chauffeur93 drove dead slow along the lane.
“That’s it, Jones; crawl for half a mile, and keep her as quiet as you can.”
In another five minutes they were purring away into the darkness. Eve, when she glanced back, could see a faint glow above the tree tops.
“There is something for them to talk about! That will be in the papers to-morrow.”
Eve did not know how far they drove. The car kept running for the best part of two hours. Mr. Lawrence Kentucky was finessing95, covering up their tracks, so to speak. He turned in his seat once or twice and spoke96 to Joan Gaunt. Day was just dawning when the car pulled up.
“This ought to do for you. You are three or four miles from Farnham, and this is Crooksbury Hill.”
Eve threw aside her rug and climbed out. They had stopped on a flinty road among the towering trunks of a wood of Scots firs. The branches high overhead seemed a black tangle17 hanging in the vague grey light of the dawn. Not a bough54 moved. The great trees were asleep.
“I’ll be getting on. Running to Oxford97. Put ’em off the scent. Write and fix up the next. London address, you know.”
He was saying good-bye, and receiving Lizzie Straker’s more than friendly splutterings. The chauffeur, a swarthy young blackguard, was grinning behind his master’s back. Mr. Lawrence Kentucky stared hard at Eve, for she was good to look at in the dawn light, with the smell of the dew everywhere, and the great trees dreaming overhead.
“Au revoir, Miss Carfax! Hope you’ve enjoyed it.”
She gave him a casual nod, and went and sat down on the bank at the side of the road.
Joan Gaunt and Lizzie Straker, like the hardy98 veterans that they were, lay down under the trees to snatch an hour or two’s sleep, but Eve felt wakeful and in a mood for thought. The night’s adventure had left her with an impression of paltriness99, and she kept picturing the black shell of the burnt house standing100 pathetically in the midst of its neglected garden. She remembered Lawrence Kentucky’s chuckle91, a peculiarly offensive and sneering101 chuckle. Was that the sort of man who could be called a pioneer of progress, or a knight102 of Arthur’s Court? It struck her as pathetic that these women should have christened him Galahad. It just betrayed how little they knew about men.
She looked up at the tall trees and was instantly reminded of the fir woods at Fernhill. A quiver of emotion swept through her. It had been just such a dawn as this when she had fled from Orchards103 Corner. She realised that she was wiser, broader, less sentimental now, and that Canterton had not been the passionate visionary that she had thought him.
Lizzie Straker woke up and shouted “Breakfast!”
The gentlewoman of Horsham had fitted them out royally. They had a tea kettle to boil over a fire of dead wood, a big bottle of water, ham sandwiches, buttered scones104, and a tin of Swiss milk. Even a tin opener had been included. That breakfast under Crooksbury Hill reminded Eve of Lynette’s fairy picnics in the Wilderness105. The larches106 would be all covered with green tassels107. She wished she was with Lynette in the Wilderness.
“Where do we go next? I’ve forgotten.”
“Let’s see. Something beginning with B, wasn’t it?”
“Yes—Basingford.”
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收听单词发音
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1
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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droplet
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| n.小滴，飞沫 | |
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4
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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6
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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10
gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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12
beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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sables
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| n.紫貂( sable的名词复数 )；紫貂皮；阴暗的；暗夜 | |
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yews
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| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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16
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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17
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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streak
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| 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 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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touchy
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| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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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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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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vindictively
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| adv.恶毒地；报复地 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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42
sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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43
conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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46
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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48
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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49
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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50
centurion
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| n.古罗马的百人队长 | |
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51
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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52
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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54
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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bemoaning
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| v.为（某人或某事）抱怨( bemoan的现在分词 )；悲悼；为…恸哭；哀叹 | |
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61
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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punctures
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| n.（尖物刺成的）小孔( puncture的名词复数 )；（尤指）轮胎穿孔；（尤指皮肤上被刺破的）扎孔；刺伤v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的第三人称单数 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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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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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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hollies
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| n.冬青（常绿灌木，叶尖而硬，有光泽，冬季结红色浆果）( holly的名词复数 )；（用作圣诞节饰物的）冬青树枝 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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neurotic
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| adj.神经病的，神经过敏的；n.神经过敏者，神经病患者 | |
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voracious
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| adj.狼吞虎咽的，贪婪的 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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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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mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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finessing
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| v.手腕，手段，技巧( finesse的现在分词 ) | |
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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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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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98
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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99
paltriness
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| n.不足取，无价值 | |
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100
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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101
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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102
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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103
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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larches
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| n.落叶松（木材）( larch的名词复数 ) | |
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tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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108
itinerary
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| n.行程表，旅行路线；旅行计划 | |
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smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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