"Cat-boats and house-boats and yawls, look here. You're bound to observe that this is my steam yacht. I own her—do you see? She belongs to me, St. George, who never before owned so much as a piece of rope."
Instead—mindful, perhaps, that "a man should not communicate his own glorie"—he stepped sedately4 down to the trim green skiff and was rowed ashore5 by a boy who, for aught that either knew, might three months before have jostled him at some ill-favoured lunch counter. For in America, dreams of gold—not, alas6, golden dreams—do prevalently come true; and of all the butterfly happenings in this pleasant land of larvæ, few are so spectacular as the process by which, without warning, a man is converted from a toiler8 and bearer of loads to a taker of his bien. However, to none, one must believe, is the changeling such gazing-stock as to himself.
Although countless9 times, waking and sleeping, St. George had humoured himself in the outworn pastime of dreaming what he would do if he were to inherit a million dollars, his imagination had never marveled its way to the situation's less poignant10 advantages. Chief among his satisfactions had been that with which he had lately seen his mother—an exquisite11 woman, looking like the old lace and Roman mosaic12 pins which she had saved from the wreck13 of her fortune—set off for Europe in the exceptional company of her brother, Bishop14 Arthur Touchett, gentlest of dignitaries. The bishop, only to look upon whose portrait was a benediction15, had at sacrifice of certain of his charities seen St. George through college; and it made the million worth while to his nephew merely to send him to Tübingen to set his soul at rest concerning the date of one of the canonical16 gospels. Next to the rich delight of planning that voyage, St. George placed the buying of his yacht.
In the dusty, inky office of the New York Evening Sentinel he had been wont17 three months before to sit at a long green table fitting words about the yachts of others to the dreary18 music of his typewriter, the while vaguely19 conscious of a blur20 of eight telephone bells, and the sound of voices used merely to communicate thought and not to please the ear. In the last three months he had sometimes remembered that black day when from his high window he had looked toward the harbour and glimpsed a trim craft of white and brass21 slipping to the river's mouth; whereupon he had been seized by such a passion to work hard and earn a white-and-brass craft of his own that the story which he was hurrying for the first edition was quite ruined.
"Good heavens, St. George," Chillingworth, the city editor, had gnarled, "we don't carry wooden type. And nothing else would set up this wooden stuff of yours. Where's some snap? Your first paragraph reads like a recipe. Now put your soul into it, and you've got less than fifteen minutes to do it in."
St. George recalled that his friend Amory, as "one hackneyed in the ways of life," had gravely lifted an eyebrow22 at him, and the new men had turned different colours at the thought of being addressed like that before the staff; and St. George had recast the story and had received for his diligence a New Jersey23 assignment which had kept him until midnight. Haunting the homes of the club-women and the common council of that little Jersey town, the trim white-and-brass craft slipping down to the river's mouth had not ceased to lure24 him. He had found himself estimating the value—in money—of the bric-à-brac of every house, and the self-importance of every alderman, and reflecting that these people, if they liked, might own yachts of white and brass; yet they preferred to crouch25 among the bric-à-brac and to discourse26 to him of one another's violations27 and interferences. By the time that he had reached home that dripping night and had put captions28 upon the backs of the unexpectant-looking photographs which were his trophies29, he was in that state of comparative anarchy30 to be effected only by imaginative youth and a disagreeable task.
Next day, suddenly as its sun, had come the news which had transformed him from a discontented grappler with social problems to the owner of stocks and bonds and shares in a busy mine and other things soothing31 to enumerate32. The first thing which he had added unto these, after the departure of his mother and the bishop, had been The Aloha, which only that day had slipped to the river's mouth in the view from his old window at the Sentinel office. St. George had the grace to be ashamed to remember how smoothly33 the social ills had adjusted themselves.
Now they were past, those days of feverish34 work and unexpected triumph and unaccountable failure; and in the dreariest35 of them St. George, dreaming wildly, had not dreamed all the unobvious joys which his fortune had brought to him. For although he had accurately36 painted, for example, the delight of a cruise in a sea-going yacht of his own, yet to step into his dory in the sunset, to watch The Aloha's sides shine in the late light as he was rowed ashore past the lesser37 crafts in the harbour; to see the man touch his cap and put back to make the yacht trim for the night, and then to turn his own face to his apartment where virtually the entire day-staff of the Evening Sentinel was that night to dine—these were among the pastimes of the lesser angels which his fancy had never compassed.
A glow of firelight greeted St. George as he entered his apartment, and the rooms wore a pleasant air of festivity. A table, with covers for twelve, was spread in the living-room, a fire of cones38 was tossing on the hearth39, the curtains were drawn40, and the sideboard was a thing of intimation. Rollo, his man—St. George had easily fallen in all the habits which he had longed to assume—was just closing the little ice-box sunk behind a panel of the wall, and he came forward with dignified41 deference42.
"Everything is ready, Rollo?" St. George asked. "No one has telephoned to beg off?"
"Yes, sir," answered Rollo, "and no, sir."
St. George had sometimes told himself that the man looked like an oval grey stone with a face cut upon it.
"Is the claret warmed?" St. George demanded, handing his hat. "Did the big glasses come for the liqueur—and the little ones will set inside without tipping? Then take the cigars to the den7—you'll have to get some cigarettes for Mr. Provin. Keep up the fire. Light the candles in ten minutes. I say, how jolly the table looks."
"Yes, sir," returned Rollo, "an' the candles 'll make a great difference, sir. Candles do give out an air, sir."
One month of service had accustomed St. George to his valet's gift of the Articulate Simplicity43. Rollo's thoughts were doubtless contrived44 in the cuticle45 and knew no deeper operance; but he always uttered his impressions with, under his mask, an air of keen and seasoned personal observation. In his first interview with St. George, Rollo had said: "I always enjoy being kep' busy, sir. To me, the busy man is a grand sight," and St. George had at once appreciated his possibilities. Rollo was like the fine print in an almanac.
When the candles were burning and the lights had been turned on in the little ochre den where the billiard-table stood, St. George emerged—a well-made figure, his buoyant, clear-cut face accurately bespeaking46 both health and cleverness. Of a family represented by the gentle old bishop and his own exquisite mother, himself university-bred and fresh from two years' hard, hand-to-hand fighting to earn an honourable47 livelihood48, St. George, of sound body and fine intelligence, had that temper of stability within vast range which goes pleasantly into the mind that meets it. A symbol of this was his prodigious49 popularity with those who had been his fellow-workers—a test beside which old-world traditions of the urban touchstones are of secondary advantage. It was deeply significant that in spite of the gulf50 which Chance had digged the day-staff of the Sentinel, all save two or three of which were not of his estate, had with flattering alacrity51 obeyed his summons to dine. But, as he heard in the hall the voice of Chillingworth, the difficulty of his task for the first time swept over him. It was Chillingworth who had advocated to him the need of wooden type to suit his literary style and who had long ordered and bullied52 him about; and how was he to play the host to Chillingworth, not to speak of the others, with the news between them of that million?
When the bell rang, St. George somewhat gruffly superseded53 Rollo.
"I'll go," he said briefly54, "and keep out of sight for a few minutes. Get in the bath-room or somewhere, will you?" he added nervously55, and opened the door.
At one stroke Chillingworth settled his own position by dominating the situation as he dominated the city room. He chose the best chair and told a good story and found fault with the way the fire burned, all with immediate56 ease and abandon. Chillingworth's men loved to remember that he had once carried copy. They also understood all the legitimate57 devices by which he persuaded from them their best effort, yet these devices never failed, and the city room agreed that Chillingworth's fashion of giving an assignment to a new man would force him to write a readable account of his own entertainment in the dark meadows. Largely by personal magnetism58 he had fought his way upward, and this quality was not less a social gift.
Mr. Toby Amory, who had been on the Eleven with St. George at Harvard, looked along his pipe at his host and smiled, with flattering content, his slow smile. Amory's father had lately had a conspicuous59 quarter of an hour in Wall Street, as a result of which Amory, instead of taking St. George to the cemetery60 at Clusium as he had talked, himself drifted to Park Row; and although he now knew considerably61 less than he had hoped about certain inscriptions62, he was supporting himself and two sisters by really brilliant work, so that the balance of his power was creditably maintained. Surely the inscriptions did not suffer, and what then was Amory that he should object? Presently Holt, the middle-aged63 marine64 man, and Harding who, since he had lost a lightweight sparring championship, was sporting editor, solemnly entered together and sat down with the social caution of their class. So did Provin, the "elder giant," who gathered news as he breathed and could not intelligibly65 put six words together. Horace, who would listen to four lines over the telephone and therefrom make a half-column of American newspaper humour or American newspaper tears, came in roaring pacifically and marshaling little Bud, that day in the seventh heaven of his first "beat." Then followed Crass66, the feature man, whose interviews were known to the new men as literature, although he was not above publicly admitting that he was not a reporter, but a special writer. Mr. Crass read nothing in the paper that he had not written, and St. George had once prophesied67 that in old age he would use his scrap-book for a manual of devotions, as Klopstock used his Messiah. With him arrived Carbury, the telegraph editor, and later Benfy, who had a carpet in his office and wrote editorials and who came in evening clothes, thus moving Harding and Holt to instant private conversation. The last to appear was Little Cawthorne who wrote the fiction page and made enchanting68 limericks about every one on the staff and went about singing one song and behaving, the dramatic man flattered him, like a motif69. Little Cawthorne entered backward, wrestling with some wiry matter which, when he had executed a manoeuvre70 and banged the door, was thrust through the passage in the form of Bennie Todd, the head office boy, affectionately known as Bennietod. Bennietod was in every one's secret, clipped every one's space and knew every one's salary, and he had lately covered a baseball game when the man whose copy he was to carry had, outside the fence, become implicated71 in allurements72. He was greeted with noise, and St. George told him heartily73 that he was glad he had come.
"He made me," defensively claimed Bennietod; frowning deferentially74 at Little Cawthorne.
"Hello, St. George," said the latter, "come on back to the office. Crass sits in your place and he wears cravats75 the colour of goblin's blood. Come back."
"Not he," said Chillingworth, smoking; "the Dead-and-Done-with editor is too keen for that; I won't give him a job. He's ruined. Egg sandwiches will never stimulate76 him now."
St. George joined in the relieved laugh that followed. They were remembering his young Sing Sing convict who had completed his sentence in time to step in a cab and follow his mother to the grave, where his stepfather refused to have her coffin77 opened. And St. George, fresh from his Alma Mater, had weighted the winged words of his story with allusions78 to the tears celestial79 of Thetis, shed for Achilles, and Creon's grief for Haemon, and the Unnatural80 Combat of Massinger's father and son; so that Chillingworth had said things in languages that are not dead (albeit a bit Elizabethan) and the composing room had shaken mailed fists.
"Hi, you!" said Little Cawthorne, who was born in the South, "this is a mellow81 minute. I could wish they came often. This shall be a weekly occurrence—not so, St. George?"
"Cawthorne," Chillingworth warned, "mind your manners, or they'll make you city editor."
A momentary82 shadow was cast by the appearance of Rollo, who was manifestly a symbol of the world Philistine83 about which these guests knew more and in which they played a smaller part than any other class of men. But the tray which Rollo bore was his passport. Thereafter, they all trooped to the table, and Chillingworth sat at the head, and from the foot St. George watched the city editor break bread with the familiar nervous gesture with which he was wont to strip off yards of copy-paper and eat it. There was a tacit assumption that he be the conversational84 sun of the hour, and in fostering this understanding the host took grateful refuge.
"This is shameful," Chillingworth began contentedly85. "Every one of you ought to be out on the Boris story."
"What is the Boris story?" asked St. George with interest. But in all talk St. George had a restful, host-like way of playing the rôle of opposite to every one who preferred being heard.
"I'll wager86 the boy hasn't been reading the papers these three months," Amory opined in his pleasant drawl.
"No," St. George confessed; "no, I haven't. They make me homesick."
"Don't maunder," said Chillingworth in polite criticism. "This is Amory's story, and only about a quarter of the facts yet," he added in a resentful growl87. "It's up at the Boris, in West Fifty-ninth Street—you know the apartment house? A Miss Holland, an heiress, living there with her aunt, was attacked and nearly murdered by a mulatto woman. The woman followed her to the elevator and came uncomfortably near stabbing her from the back. The elevator boy was too quick for her. And at the station they couldn't get the woman to say a word; she pretends not to understand or to speak anything they've tried. She's got Amory hypnotized too—he thinks she can't. And when they searched her," went on Chillingworth with enjoyment88, "they found her dressed in silk and cloth of gold, and loaded down with all sorts of barbarous ornaments89, with almost priceless jewels. Miss Holland claims that she never saw or heard of the woman before. Now, what do you make of it?" he demanded, unconcernedly draining his glass.
"Splendid," cried St. George in unfeigned interest. "I say, splendid. Did you see the woman?" he asked Amory.
Amory nodded.
"Yes," he said, "Andy fixed90 that for me. But she never said a word. I parlez-voused her, and verstehen-Sied her, and she sighed and turned her head."
"Did you see the heiress?" St. George asked.
"Not I," mourned Amory, "not to talk with, that is. I happened to be hanging up in the hall there the afternoon it occurred;" he modestly explained.
"What luck," St. George commented with genuine envy. "It's a stunning91 story. Who is Miss Holland?"
"She's lived there for a year or more with her aunt," said Chillingworth. "She is a New Yorker and an heiress and a great beauty—oh, all the properties are there, but they're all we've got. What do you make of it?" he repeated.
St. George did not answer, and every one else did.
"Mistaken identity," said Little Cawthorne. "Do you remember Provin's story of the woman whose maid shot a masseuse whom she took to be her mistress; and the woman forgave the shooting and seemed to have her arrested chiefly because she had mistaken her for a masseuse?"
"Too easy, Cawthorne," said Chillingworth.
"The woman is probably an Italian," said the telegraph editor, "doing one of her Mafia stunts92. It's time they left the politicians alone and threw bombs at the bonds that back them."
"Hey, Carbury. Stop writing heads," said Chillingworth.
"Has Miss Holland lived abroad?" asked Crass, the feature man. "Maybe this woman was her nurse or ayah or something who got fond of her charge, and when they took it away years ago, she devoted93 her life to trying to find it in America. And when she got here she wasn't able to make herself known to her, and rather than let any one else—"
"No more space-grabbing, Crass," warned Chillingworth.
"Maybe," ventured Horace, "the young lady did settlement work and read to the woman's kid, and the kid died, and the woman thought she'd said a charm over it."
Chillingworth grinned affectionately.
"Hold up," he commanded, "or you'll recall the very words of the charm."
"Now, Bennietod?" Amory encouraged him.
"I t'ink," said the lad, "if she's a heiress, dis yere dagger-plunger is her mudder dat's been shut up in a mad-house to a fare-you-well."
Chillingworth nodded approvingly.
"Your imagination is toning down wonderfully," he flattered him. "A month ago you would have guessed that the mulatto lady was an Egyptian princess' messenger sent over here to get the heart from an American heiress as an ingredient for a complexion95 lotion96. You're coming on famously, Todd."
"The German poet Wieland," began Benfy, clearing his throat, "has, in his epic97 of the Oberon made admirable use of much the same idea, Mr. Chillingworth—"
Yells interrupted him. Mr. Benfy was too "well-read" to be wholly popular with the staff.
"Oh, well, the woman was crazy. That's about all," suggested Harding, and blushed to the line of his hair.
Chillingworth sighed and looked at them both with pursed lips.
"You two," he commented, "would get out a paper that everybody would know to be full of reliable facts, and that nobody would buy. To be born with a riotous99 imagination and then hardly ever to let it riot is to be a born newspaper man. Provin?"
The elder giant leaned back, his eyes partly closed.
"Is she engaged to be married?" he asked. "Is Miss Holland engaged?"
Chillingworth shook his head.
"No," he said, "not engaged. We knew that by tea-time the same day, Provin. Well, St. George?"
St. George drew a long breath.
"By Jove, I don't know," he said, "it's a stunning story. It's the best story I ever remember, excepting those two or three that have hung fire for so long. Next to knowing just why old Ennis disinherited his son at his marriage, I would like to ferret out this."
"Now, tut, St. George," Amory put in tolerantly, "next to doing exactly what you will be doing all this week you'd rather ferret out this."
"On my honour, no," St. George protested eagerly, "I mean quite what I say. I might go on fearfully about it. Lord knows I'm going to see the day when I'll do it, too, and cut my troubles for the luck of chasing down a bully100 thing like this."
If there was anything to forgive, every one forgave him.
"But give up ten minutes on The Aloha," Amory skeptically put it, adjusting his pince-nez, "for anything less than ten minutes on The Aloha?"
"I'll do it now—now!" cried St. George. "If Mr. Chillingworth will put me on this story in your place and will give you a week off on The Aloha, you may have her and welcome."
Little Cawthorne pounded on the table.
"What do you say, Mr. Chillingworth?" St. George asked eagerly.
"I don't know," said Chillingworth, meditatively103 turning his glass. "St. George is rested and fresh, and he feels the story. And Amory—here, touch glasses with me."
Amory obeyed. His chief's hand was steady, but the two glasses jingled104 together until, with a smile, Amory dropped his arm.
"I am about all in, I fancy," he admitted apologetically.
"A week's rest on the water," said Chillingworth, "would set you on your feet for the convention. All right, St. George," he nodded.
St. George leaped to his feet.
"Hooray!" he shouted like a boy. "Jove, won't it be good to get back?"
He smiled as he set down his glass, remembering the day at his desk when he had seen the white-and-brass craft slip to the river's mouth.
Rollo, discreet105 and without wonder, footed softly about the table, keeping the glasses filled and betraying no other sign of life. For more than four hours he was in attendance, until, last of the guests, Little Cawthorne and Bennietod departed together, trying to remember the dates of the English kings. Finally Chillingworth and Amory, having turned outdoors the dramatic critic who had arrived at midnight and was disposed to stay, stood for a moment by the fire and talked it over.
"Remember, St. George," Chillingworth said, "I'll have no monkey-work. You'll report to me at the old hour, you won't be late; and you'll take orders—"
"As usual, sir," St. George rejoined quietly.
"I beg your pardon," Chillingworth said quickly, "but you see this is such a deuced unnatural arrangement."
"I understand," St. George assented, "and I'll do my best not to get thrown down. Amory has told me all he knows about it—by the way, where is the mulatto woman now?"
"Why," said Chillingworth, "some physician got interested in the case, and he's managed to hurry her up to the Bitley Reformatory in Westchester for the present. She's there; and that means, we need not disguise, that nobody can see her. Those Bitley people are like a rabble106 of wild eagles."
"Right," said St. George. "I'll report at eight o'clock. Amory can board The Aloha when he gets ready and take down whom he likes."
"On my life, old chap, it's a private view of Kedar's tents to me," said Amory, his eyes shining behind his pince-nez. "I'll probably win wide disrespect by my inability to tell a mainsail from a cockpit, but I'm a grateful dog, in spite of that."
When they were gone St. George sat by the fire. He read Amory's story of the Boris affair in the paper, which somewhere in the apartment Rollo had unearthed107, and the man took off his master's shoes and brought his slippers108 and made ready his bath. St. George glanced over his shoulder at the attractively-dismantled table, with its dying candles and slanted109 shades.
It was so absurdly like a city room's dream of Arcady.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
buoy
|
|
| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
parody
|
|
| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
sedately
|
|
| adv.镇静地，安详地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
toiler
|
|
| 辛劳者，勤劳者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
countless
|
|
| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
poignant
|
|
| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
mosaic
|
|
| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
bishop
|
|
| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
benediction
|
|
| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
canonical
|
|
| n.权威的；典型的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
blur
|
|
| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
eyebrow
|
|
| n.眉毛，眉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
jersey
|
|
| n.运动衫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
lure
|
|
| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
crouch
|
|
| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
violations
|
|
| 违反( violation的名词复数 )； 冒犯； 违反（行为、事例）； 强奸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
captions
|
|
| n.标题，说明文字，字幕( caption的名词复数 )v.给（图片、照片等）加说明文字( caption的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
trophies
|
|
| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
anarchy
|
|
| n.无政府状态；社会秩序混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
enumerate
|
|
| v.列举，计算，枚举，数 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
dreariest
|
|
| 使人闷闷不乐或沮丧的( dreary的最高级 )； 阴沉的； 令人厌烦的； 单调的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
cones
|
|
| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
cuticle
|
|
| n.表皮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
bespeaking
|
|
| v.预定( bespeak的现在分词 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
livelihood
|
|
| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
prodigious
|
|
| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
gulf
|
|
| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
alacrity
|
|
| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
bullied
|
|
| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
superseded
|
|
| [医]被代替的，废弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
magnetism
|
|
| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
cemetery
|
|
| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
considerably
|
|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
inscriptions
|
|
| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
marine
|
|
| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
intelligibly
|
|
| adv.可理解地，明了地，清晰地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
crass
|
|
| adj.愚钝的，粗糙的；彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
prophesied
|
|
| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
enchanting
|
|
| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
motif
|
|
| n.(图案的)基本花纹，(衣服的)花边；主题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
manoeuvre
|
|
| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
implicated
|
|
| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
allurements
|
|
| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
deferentially
|
|
| adv.表示敬意地，谦恭地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
cravats
|
|
| n.（系在衬衫衣领里面的）男式围巾( cravat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
76
stimulate
|
|
| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
coffin
|
|
| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
allusions
|
|
| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
celestial
|
|
| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
unnatural
|
|
| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
mellow
|
|
| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
philistine
|
|
| n.庸俗的人；adj.市侩的，庸俗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
conversational
|
|
| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
contentedly
|
|
| adv.心满意足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
wager
|
|
| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
growl
|
|
| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
ornaments
|
|
| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
stunning
|
|
| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
stunts
|
|
| n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 )；（广告中）引人注目的花招；愚蠢行为；危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
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： |
|
|
|
|
95
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
lotion
|
|
| n.洗剂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
epic
|
|
| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
riotous
|
|
| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
bully
|
|
| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
wailed
|
|
| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
meditatively
|
|
| adv.冥想地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
jingled
|
|
| 喝醉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
rabble
|
|
| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
unearthed
|
|
| 出土的（考古） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
slanted
|
|
| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
gad
|
|
| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |