It was a remarkable1 fact that although of the three ladies who kept the only circulating library Kingslough boasted one was deaf, a second nearly blind, and the third afflicted2 with lameness3, nowhere in the town was such early and reliable information concerning important events to be obtained as in the small room lined with shelves, which were filled with ragged4, soiled, generally imperfect, and sometimes wholly disabled books, which had passed through hundreds of hands, and done duty at various other circulating libraries before settling down for life amongst the 79inhabitants of that dull little seaport5 town.
In the pleasant days of old, few people in Ireland worked for their living. There was an idea abroad that to labour for daily bread could by no possibility be the right thing to do; and accordingly, as human beings found it impossible to live without bread, or at all events potatoes, as pennies were very scarce, even if the price of provisions was inconceivably low, a convenient series of fictions obtained amongst the Hibernians, that if any work was done it was performed entirely6 as a matter of pleasure or occupation.
Even the very labourers, most of whom had their few acres of rush or daisy-covered land, farmed by their wives and children, went to the estate on which they chanced to be employed, “Just to oblige the masther.”
The work was done fairly and the wages received regularly, but it pleased them to make the latter seem by a figure of speech rather an accident than a result.
80And the same spirit pervaded7 all ranks. If a young man more clever and more fortunate than his fellows had a secretary’s place offered, he accepted it merely, so partial friends declared, because “Lord This or That was so good to him; treated dear George like his own son.” Did a boy enter the navy, “he could never, his relations declared, be happy on shore, so they were glad to humour his whim8.” Did a brother scrape together all the family resources and purchase a commission in a cavalry9 regiment10, the girls were delighted, because “Charley never was happy out of the saddle.” Did a man read hard and study hard and go in for the bar, mamma murmured in a delicious brogue, “Henery had always a turn for arguing and making speeches;” whilst if a keen young fellow were sufficiently11 lucky to own an attorney uncle, friendly enough and rich enough to find money to article the lad to himself, the matter was generally put in some such light as this:—
“Jack12 is going to Dublin to help his uncle. The dear old man’s business—almost entirely 81confined to the nobility—is increasing just as fast as his health is failing, and so he asked Jack if he would mind assisting him, and of course it will not be any extra expense to us, as he would not have Jack there and give him nothing.”
As regards the Church, I really think there was no need to put a false gloss13 on the motives14 of any man who entered it then, so far at least as money was concerned. The great prizes were not many. The pay of curates was ridiculously small; so small indeed that few save those possessed15 of adequate private means could have been found among their ranks; but perhaps this was the only career concerning which a fair amount of candour prevailed.
To India, indeed, men did not scruple16 to say they were going, simply and purely17 to make their fortunes; but then India was a long way off, and the fortunes men had made there, the undying names they had left behind, the pages their deeds filled in history, read like the enchanted18 story of some eastern romance.
82By a similar convenient fiction to that employed by men, if ladies worked, it was because they liked employment, not because they earned money.
Supposing “family circumstances” induced Miss Brennan to take up her abode19 in Sir Thomas O’Donnell’s family in the capacity of governess or companion, she stayed there, so sympathetic friends would have it, not because Sir Thomas paid her fifty pounds a year, but because Lady O’Donnell liked her so much she would not hear of her returning to her friends.
Supposing Mrs. Waller and her daughters, driven to their wits’ ends how to make the ends of their income meet! Visitors were expected to believe that all these screens Martha painted so beautifully; all these purses, glittering with beads20 and tassels21 and clasps and fancy rings, which Pauline knitted or netted with a grace and dexterity22 really pleasant to behold23; all those pen-wipers and scent-bags and card-baskets and paper mats which the younger fry manufactured as industriously24 83as though they had been inmates25 of a deaf and dumb school, were intended merely as free gifts to their richer relations.
That was the way Mrs. Waller put and her friends received it; with the light in which the richer relations viewed those works of art we have, happily, nothing to do. The delusion26 was kept up at one end; perhaps there was execration27 at the other. There are some persons who to this hour cannot behold an embroidered28 sofa-pillow, a set of dinner-mats adorned29 with robins30 seated on twigs31; rural cottages surrounded with trees; foreign temples, and vague sea-views, all executed in Indian ink; a smoking-cap; a pair even of ornamented32 braces,—without groaning33 in spirit over memories of black mail, levied34 in the name of fancy work, that are recalled by the sight.
When however at a period, many years previous to the commencement of this story, Mrs. Larkins and her two maiden35 sisters, the Misses Healey, opened the circulating library to which reference has been made, 84Kingslough was fairly non-plussed what to do with, what to say about them. In its way it was as bad as though an Agnew had started a mill, or a Riley taken a shop and expressed his intention of serving behind a counter. The thing could not be concealed36. There lay the awful communication,—
“Have you heard,” wrote Mrs. Lefroy, “that the Healeys are going to lend out books?” and then of course it became that recipient’s duty to write to some one else. “My dear, what do you think? The Healeys are having shelves put up all round their front parlour, and intend making it into a public library,” and so forth37, and so forth, till at last some spinster more courageous38 or more inquisitive39 than her neighbours, went boldly and asked Mrs. Larkins what she meant by it all.
Mrs. Larkins was equal to the occasion, she had not been left a widow twice for nothing.
“Yes; it is very sad,” she sighed, “but we cannot give up our charities.”
Now for many a long day the Healeys had, 85on the plea of giving to the poor, let their first floor to an old bachelor who, dying one morning minus a will, left them without a legacy40 or a lodger41.
At once Kingslough accepted the Library, and its raison d’être. The idea had been suggested and the means found for carrying it into effect by a dreadfully vulgar man who made money somehow out of flax, in a distant part of the kingdom, and who having been brother to the deceased Larkins had given many a stray pound note to Larkins’ widow, but all this was discreetly42 kept in the background.
“We cannot give up our charities,” settled the business satisfactorily at Kingslough, and why should it not have done so when every hour, even at the present enlightened day, men and women have, as a matter of common politeness, to swallow doses of social humbug43 as large if not larger.
Not very long ago, the writer of this was expatiating44 to a friend on the bad taste of a wealthy and titled lady who not merely 86insisted on writing very poor verses but expected to be paid for them.
“Ah! it is for her charities!” was the reply. “What! with an income of—?” Not to be personal the amount shall remain blank. The reader, even if left to his internal consciousness, cannot fill it in at too high a figure.
“Yes, she is so good; she gives so much away.”
In comparison to that what could Kingslough offer?—Kingslough, which has, I am credibly45 informed, gone on with the times, and now prints its own newspaper, and has its books from Mudie.
There was no Mudie when the Misses Healey converted the parlour of their “dear papa’s” house into a room free to the public.
A second door was put up, to enable the hall door to stand hospitably46 open, and soon their friends began to consider the Library a pleasant sort of place in which to meet and while away half an hour. They visited the Misses Healey, in fact, and borrowed a 87book or so from them. And thus the ladies kept a roof over their heads, and retained their standing47 in society. If they did make charity an excuse, who amongst us, friends, has been so invariably straightforward48 that he shall dare to throw the first stone at them.
Let the man who has never played with that which is worse than lying—equivocation—stand up and condemn49 them. Charity begins at home, the worldly-wise tell us, and Mrs. Larkins and her sisters, who were in grievous need, bestowed50 it there. No beggar in the street was, after a fashion, poorer than they, and so they remembered their own need first.
But when all this was done they had still something left; a pot of jam for a sick child, a basin of soup for a weakly mother, tea-leaves with capabilities51 of tea still in them, for the old women, who loved their cup as their husbands loved their “glass;” clothes shabby and thin and patched, it is true, but still clothes for some half-clad beggar, and 88a few shillings even it might be in the course of the year given in cases where nothing but money could be of any use.
They gave what they could, and the beggars curtseyed to them, and even the young reprobates52 of the town—there were reprobates, alas53! in Kingslough, dull as it was—sometimes lifted their hats, and always refrained from jeering54 remarks when the deaf sister and the blind paced along the Parade arm-in-arm together.
Further to the credit of the town, be it stated, certain hours were by the non-élite set apart for their own visits to the Library. These hours were either very early or very late. They did not wish to intrude55 when Miss Healey had visitors, and in return Miss Healey acted towards them the part of a mother, and only recommended them such books as she could warrant from previous perusal56 to be perfectly57 innocuous.
Mrs. Larkins and Miss Healey might indeed safely have been planted guard, not merely over the morals of Kingslough, but of the then coming generation.
89Could the old darlings rise from their graves, what would they think of the literature of the present day?
If a girl, attracted by a particularly taking title, remarked, laying hands on the book, “I think I will have that, Miss Healey,” Miss Healey would turn upon her a wizened58 face, a pair of spectacles, and a brown front, and say,—
“My dear, you must not have that. It is a gentleman’s book.”
What awful iniquity59 lay concealed under that phrase perhaps the gentlemen of Kingslough could have explained. Certain am I no woman in the place excepting Mrs. Larkins and her sisters knew. Neither did the “lower orders.” Had Miss Healey belonged to the strictest sect60 of professing61 Christians62, her spectacles could not more diligently63 have searched profitable and proper reading for the young men and the young women who, being able slowly and painfully to spell out a story, were willing to pay their hardly-earned pennies for the privilege of doing so.
90No new novels found their way to Kingslough. The youngest Miss Healey’s shelves boasted must have been at least ten years of age, but they were fresh to the subscribers as the last work of fiction published. As a rule Miss Kate Healey, who was deaf, read aloud to her two sisters, but occasionally books would arrive, some scenes in which trenched so closely on their forbidden ground, that Miss Healey would decide against their public perusal, and undertake herself silently to grapple with the enemy.
As a woman twice married (“To think of it,” as Grace Moffat observed, “while so many women never are married even once”), on Mrs. Larkins this duty would naturally have devolved, but time and other causes had rendered her eye-sight so bad that reading was impossible.
Indeed she could not find any other means of employing the shining hours except knitting; and “How thankful I ought to be,” said the poor lady, “that I learned to knit while I could see!” And accordingly, morning, 91noon, and night, she plied64 her needles incessantly65. Counterpanes, curtains, shawls, reticules, purses, grew under her bony fingers. Miss Kate read the tenderest love passages to the accompaniment of those clicking needles; and while Miss Healey, in the interests of public morality, was silently perusing66 some questionable67 scene, that everlasting68 knitting still made way.
Three busily idle women were those sisters; always at work, and yet always at leisure, always ready to hear news, equally ready to repeat news. They were to Kingslough as Reuter to the civilized69 world. The Library was the central telegraph office of the day to the little town. Had it ever occurred to the Misses Healey to issue a newspaper, they might have produced edition after edition containing the very latest intelligence concerning the last piece of scandal.
To them, late on the evening of that summer’s day when this story opens, entered, in great haste, a burly, red-faced, hearty-looking man, arrayed in a driving-coat, and having a large kerchief muffled70 about his neck.
92“My compliments, ladies, your most obedient servant,” he said, with a sort of rough gallantry which set upon him not amiss, uncovering at the same time, and holding his hat in his hand in a manner which might put a modern dandy to shame. “I want you to find me a book for my little wife. Plenty of love, and millinery, and grand society; you know her taste, Miss Healey. I am in a hurry, for I stopped longer at Braher fair than I intended, and my poor girl always thinks some accident has happened to me if I am late. Thank you. I knew you could lay hands on what I asked for in a minute,” and he was about to depart, when Mrs. Larkins, full of the one subject of the day, interposed with—
“Oh! Mr. Mooney, and what do you think about this sad affair?”
“What sad affair?” he inquired.
“Dear! dear! haven’t you heard?” exclaimed Miss Healey and Mrs. Larkins in amiable71 unison72. “Miss O’Hara has been missing ever since ten o’clock this morning, and no one knows what has happened to her.”
93“Miss O’Hara?” he repeated. “Miss Riley’s niece? a pretty young lady with a quantity of light hair?” and he made a gesture supposed to indicate curls flowing over the shoulder.
“Yes; and they have been dragging the river.”
“And watching the tide,” added Miss Healey.
“And poor dear Miss Riley is heartbroken.”
“And she has sent for General Riley.”
“I am very much mistaken if I did not see the young lady this morning,” said Mr. Mooney, a serious expression overclouding his frank, jovial73 face.
“You? oh, Mr. Mooney! where?” cried the two ladies.
“Why, driving along the Kilcullagh Road with—”
“With Mr. Dan Brady. I thought I had seen the young lady’s face somewhere before, but his mare75 trotted76 past me so quick I could not identify it at the moment. Now, however, 94I am sure the lady was Miss O’Hara.” There was a moment’s silence.
“It is a bad job, I am afraid,” he observed; “but she has good friends, that is one comfort. I do not think my little woman will want to read any novels to-night, Miss Healey, when I tell her this story. I am sorry, ay, that I am.” And with another bow, for the Misses Healey were too high and mighty78 personages for him to offer his hand, Mr. Mooney, with the books in his capacious pockets, passed out into the street, mounted his gig, untied79 the reins80 he had knotted round the rail of the dash-board, said, “Now, Rory,” to his horse, a great powerful roan, and started off towards home at a good round pace, thinking the while how grieved his delicate wife would be to hear of this great trouble which had befallen respectable people.
“It is enough to make a man glad he has none of his own,” murmured Mr. Mooney 95to himself, in strict confidence, and this must be considered as going great lengths, since if Mr. Mooney had one bitter drop in his cup, it was the fact that no living child had ever been born to him; that he had neither son, nor daughter, nothing to love or to love him except the little “wife,” who beguiled81 the weary hours of her invalid82 existence with stories of lords and ladies, of fond men and foolish maidens83, of brave attire84 and brilliant halls, of everything farthest removed from the actual experience of her own monotonous85, though most beautiful and pathetic life.
Meanwhile Miss Healey having screamed the tidings brought by Mr. Mooney into Miss Kate’s least deaf ear, the three stood for a moment, so to say, at arms.
“Anne,” said Mrs. Larkins at length, “Miss Riley ought to know this,” but Anne shrank back appalled86 at the idea of being the bearer of such tidings.
“Some one ought to go after them now, this minute,” said Miss Kate.
“Poor, poor Miss Riley!” exclaimed Miss 96Healey. “Yes,” began Mrs. Larkins impatiently, “that is all very well, but something should be done.”
“I’ll tell you what,” exclaimed Miss Healey, fairly driven into a corner, which might excuse, though not perhaps justify87 her form of speech. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll put on my bonnet88 and shawl, and let Jane know what we have heard.”
“The very best thing you could do,” said Mrs. Larkins. So Miss Healey limped slowly off and told that “delightful Jane” the news.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
afflicted
|
|
| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
lameness
|
|
| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
seaport
|
|
| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
pervaded
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
whim
|
|
| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
cavalry
|
|
| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
gloss
|
|
| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
scruple
|
|
| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
purely
|
|
| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
enchanted
|
|
| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
beads
|
|
| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
tassels
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
dexterity
|
|
| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
behold
|
|
| v.看，注视，看到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
industriously
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
inmates
|
|
| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
delusion
|
|
| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
execration
|
|
| n.诅咒，念咒，憎恶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
embroidered
|
|
| adj．绣花的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
robins
|
|
| n.知更鸟，鸫( robin的名词复数 )；（签名者不分先后，以避免受责的）圆形签名抗议书（或请愿书） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
twigs
|
|
| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
ornamented
|
|
| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
groaning
|
|
| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
levied
|
|
| 征（兵）( levy的过去式和过去分词 )； 索取； 发动（战争）； 征税 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
inquisitive
|
|
| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
legacy
|
|
| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
lodger
|
|
| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
discreetly
|
|
| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
humbug
|
|
| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
expatiating
|
|
| v.详述，细说( expatiate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
credibly
|
|
| ad.可信地；可靠地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
hospitably
|
|
| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
straightforward
|
|
| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
condemn
|
|
| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
capabilities
|
|
| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
reprobates
|
|
| n.道德败坏的人，恶棍( reprobate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
53
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
jeering
|
|
| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
intrude
|
|
| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
perusal
|
|
| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
wizened
|
|
| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
iniquity
|
|
| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
sect
|
|
| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
professing
|
|
| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
diligently
|
|
| ad.industriously;carefully | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
plied
|
|
| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
perusing
|
|
| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的现在分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
questionable
|
|
| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
muffled
|
|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
unison
|
|
| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
jovial
|
|
| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
mare
|
|
| n.母马，母驴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
abducted
|
|
| 劫持，诱拐( abduct的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（肢体等）外展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
untied
|
|
| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
reins
|
|
| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
beguiled
|
|
| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
invalid
|
|
| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
maidens
|
|
| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
attire
|
|
| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
appalled
|
|
| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
justify
|
|
| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |