Lewisham's inquiries1 for evening teaching and private tuition were essentially2 provisional measures. His proposals for a more permanent establishment displayed a certain defect in his sense of proportion. That Melbourne professorship, for example, was beyond his merits, and there were aspects of things that would have affected4 the welcome of himself and his wife at Eton College. At the outset he was inclined to regard the South Kensington scholar as the intellectual salt of the earth, to overrate the abundance of "decent things" yielding from one hundred and fifty to three hundred a year, and to disregard the competition of such inferior enterprises as the universities of Oxford5, Cambridge, and the literate6 North. But the scholastic7 agents to whom he went on the following Saturday did much in a quiet way to disabuse8 his mind.
Mr. Blendershin's chief assistant in the grimy little office in Oxford Street cleared up the matter so vigorously that Lewisham was angered. "Headmaster of an endowed school, perhaps!" said Mr. Blendershin's chief assistant "Lord!--why not a bishopric? I say,"--as Mr. Blendershin entered smoking an assertive11 cigar--"one-and-twenty, _no_ degree, _no_ games, two years' experience as junior--wants a headmastership of an endowed school!" He spoke12 so loudly that it was inevitable13 the selection of clients in the waiting-room should hear, and he pointed14 with his pen.
"Look here!" said Lewisham hotly; "if I knew the ways of the market I shouldn't come to you."
Mr. Blendershin stared at Lewisham for a moment. "What's he done in the way of certificates?" asked Mr. Blendershin of the assistant.
The assistant read a list of 'ologies and 'ographies. "Fifty resident," said Mr. Blendershin concisely--"that's _your_ figure. Sixty, if you're lucky."
"_What_?" said Mr. Lewisham.
"Not enough for you?"
"Not nearly."
"You can get a Cambridge graduate for eighty resident--and grateful," said Mr. Blendershin.
"But I don't want a resident post," said Lewisham.
"Precious few non-resident shops," said Mr. Blendershin. "Precious few. They want you for dormitory supervision--and they're afraid of your taking pups outside."
"Not married by any chance?" said the assistant suddenly, after an attentive15 study of Lewisham's face.
"Well--er." Lewisham met Mr. Blendershin's eye. "Yes," he said.
The assistant was briefly16 unprintable. "Lord! you'll have to keep that dark," said Mr. Blendershin. "But you have got a tough bit of hoeing before you. If I was you I'd go on and get my degree now you're so near it. You'll stand a better chance."
Pause.
"The fact is," said Lewisham slowly and looking at his boot toes, "I must be doing _something_ while I am getting my degree."
The assistant, whistled softly.
"Might get you a visiting job, perhaps," said Mr. Blendershin speculatively17. "Just read me those items again, Binks," He listened attentively18. "Objects to religious teaching!--Eh?" He stopped the reading by a gesture, "That's nonsense. You can't have everything, you know. Scratch that out. You won't get a place in any middle-class school in England if you object to religious teaching. It's the mothers--bless 'em! Say nothing about it. Don't believe--who does? There's hundreds like you, you know--hundreds. Parsons--all sorts. Say nothing about it--"
"But if I'm asked?"
"Church of England. Every man in this country who has not dissented19 belongs to the Church of England. It'll be hard enough to get you anything without that."
"But--" said Mr. Lewisham. "It's lying."
"Legal fiction," said Mr. Blendershin. "Everyone understands. If you don't do that, my dear chap, we can't do anything for you. It's Journalism20, or London docks. Well, considering your experience,--say docks."
Lewisham's face flushed irregularly. He did not answer. He scowled21 and tugged23 at the still by no means ample moustache.
"Compromise, you know," said Mr. Blendershin, watching him kindly24. "Compromise."
For the first time in his life Lewisham faced the necessity of telling a lie in cold blood. He glissaded from, the austere25 altitudes of his self-respect, and his next words were already disingenuous26.
"I won't promise to tell lies if I'm asked," he said aloud. "I can't do that."
"Scratch it out," said Blendershin to the clerk. "You needn't mention it. Then you don't say you can teach drawing."
"I can't," said Lewisham.
"You just give out the copies," said Blendershin, "and take care they don't see you draw, you know."
"But that's not teaching drawing--"
"It's what's understood by it in _this_ country," said Blendershin. "Don't you go corrupting27 your mind with pedagogueries. They're the ruin of assistants. Put down drawing. Then there's shorthand--"
"Here, I say!" said Lewisham.
"There's shorthand, French, book-keeping, commercial geography, land measuring--"
"But I can't teach any of those things!"
"Look here," said Blendershin, and paused. "Has your wife or you a private income?"
"No," said Lewisham.
"Well?"
A pause of further moral descent, and a whack28 against an obstacle. "But they will find me out," said Lewisham.
Blendershin smiled. "It's not so much ability as willingness to teach, you know. And _they_ won't find you out. The sort of schoolmaster we deal with can't find anything out. He can't teach any of these things himself--and consequently he doesn't believe they _can_ be taught. Talk to him of pedagogics and he talks of practical experience. But he puts 'em on his prospectus29, you know, and he wants 'em on his time-table. Some of these subjects--There's commercial geography, for instance. What _is_ commercial geography?"
"Barilla," said the assistant, biting the end of his pen, and added pensively30, "_and_ blethers."
"Fad31," said Blendershin, "Just fad. Newspapers talk rot about commercial education, Duke of Devonshire catches on and talks ditto--pretends he thought it himself--much _he_ cares--parents get hold of it--schoolmasters obliged to put something down, consequently assistants must. And that's the end of the matter!"
"_All_ right," said Lewisham, catching32 his breath in a faint sob33 of shame, "Stick 'em down. But mind--a non-resident place."
"Well," said Blendershin, "your science may pull you through. But I tell you it's hard. Some grant-earning grammar school may want that. And that's about all, I think. Make a note of the address...."
The assistant made a noise, something between a whistle and the word "Fee." Blendershin glanced at Lewisham and nodded doubtfully.
"Fee for booking," said the assistant; "half a crown, postage--in advance--half a crown."
But Lewisham remembered certain advice Dunkerley had given him in the old Whortley days. He hesitated. "No," he said. "I don't pay that. If you get me anything there's the commission--if you don't--"
"We lose," supplied the assistant.
"And you ought to," said Lewisham. "It's a fair game."
"Living in London?" asked Blendershin.
"Yes," said the clerk.
"That's all right," said Mr. Blendershin. "We won't say anything about the postage in that case. Of course it's the off season, and you mustn't expect anything at present very much. Sometimes there's a shift or so at Easter.... There's nothing more.... Afternoon. Anyone else, Binks?"
Messrs. Maskelyne, Smith, and Thrums did a higher class of work than Blendershin, whose specialities were lower class private establishments and the cheaper sort of endowed schools. Indeed, so superior were Maskelyne, Smith, and Thrums that they enraged34 Lewisham by refusing at first to put him on their books. He was interviewed briefly by a young man dressed and speaking with offensive precision, whose eye adhered rigidly35 to the waterproof36 collar throughout the interview.
"Hardly our line," he said, and pushed Lewisham a form to fill up. "Mostly upper class and good preparatory schools here, you know."
As Lewisham filled up the form with his multitudinous "'ologies" and "'ographies," a youth of ducal appearance entered and greeted the precise young man in a friendly way. Lewisham, bending down to write, perceived that this professional rival wore a very long frock coat, patent leather boots, and the most beautiful grey trousers. His conceptions of competition enlarged. The precise young man by a motion of his eyes directed the newcomer's attention to Lewisham's waterproof collar, and was answered by raised eyebrows37 and a faint tightening38 of the mouth. "That bounder at Castleford has answered me," said the new-comer in a fine rich voice. "Is he any bally good?"
When the bounder at Castleford had been discussed Lewisham presented his paper, and the precise young man with his eye still fixed39 on the waterproof collar took the document in the manner of one who reaches across a gulf40. "I doubt if we shall be able to do anything for you," he said reassuringly41. "But an English mastership may chance to be vacant. Science doesn't count for much in _our_ sort of schools, you know. Classics and good games--that's our sort of thing."
"I see," said Lewisham.
"Good games, good form, you know, and all that sort of thing."
"I see," said Lewisham.
"You don't happen to be a public-school boy?" asked the precise young man.
"No," said Lewisham.
"Where were you educated?"
Lewisham's face grew hot. "Does that matter?" he asked, with his eye on the exquisite42 grey trousering.
"In our sort of school--decidedly. It's a question of tone, you know."
"I see," said Lewisham, beginning to realise new limitations. His immediate43 impulse was to escape the eye of the nicely dressed assistant master. "You'll write, I suppose, if you have anything," he said, and the precise young man responded with alacrity44 to his door-ward motion.
"Often get that kind of thing?" asked the nicely dressed young man when Lewisham had departed.
"Rather. Not quite so bad as that, you know. That waterproof collar--did you notice it? Ugh! And--'I see.' And the scowl22 and the clumsiness of it. Of course _he_ hasn't any decent clothes--he'd go to a new shop with one tin box! But that sort of thing--and board school teachers--they're getting everywhere! Only the other day--Rowton was here."
"Not Rowton of Pinner?"
"Yes, Rowton of Pinner. And he asked right out for a board schoolmaster. He said, 'I want someone who can teach arithmetic.'"
He laughed. The nicely dressed young man meditated45 over the handle of his cane46. "A bounder of that kind can't have a particularly nice time," he said, "anyhow. If he does get into a decent school, he must get tremendously cut by all the decent men."
"Too thick-skinned to mind that sort of thing, I fancy," said the scholastic agent. "He's a new type. This South Kensington place and the polytechnics47 an turning him out by the hundred...."
Lewisham forgot his resentment48 at having to profess3 a religion he did not believe, in this new discovery of the scholastic importance of clothing. He went along with an eye to all the shop windows that afforded a view of his person. Indisputably his trousers _were_ ungainly, flapping abominably49 over his boots and bagging terribly at the knees, and his boots were not only worn and ugly but extremely ill blacked. His wrists projected offensively from his coat sleeves, he perceived a huge asymmetry50 in the collar of his jacket, his red tie was askew51 and ill tied, and that waterproof collar! It was shiny, slightly discoloured, suddenly clammy to the neck. What if he did happen to be well equipped for science teaching? That was nothing. He speculated on the cost of a complete outfit52. It would be difficult to get such grey trousers as those he had seen for less than sixteen shillings, and he reckoned a frock coat at forty shillings at least--possibly even more. He knew good clothes were very expensive. He hesitated at Poole's door and turned away. The thing was out of the question. He crossed Leicester Square and went down Bedford Street, disliking every well-dressed person he met.
Messrs. Danks and Wimborne inhabited a bank-like establishment near Chancery Lane, and without any conversation presented him with forms to fill up. Religion? asked the form. Lewisham paused and wrote "Church of England."
Thence he went to the College of Pedagogues53 in Holborn. The College of Pedagogues presented itself as a long-bearded, corpulent, comfortable person with a thin gold watch chain and fat hands. He wore gilt54 glasses and had a kindly confidential55 manner that did much to heal Lewisham's wounded feelings. The 'ologies and 'ographies were taken down with polite surprise at their number. "You ought to take one of our diplomas," said the stout56 man. "You would find no difficulty. No competition. And there are prizes--several prizes--in money."
Lewisham was not aware that the waterproof collar had found a sympathetic observer.
"We give courses of lectures, and have an examination in the theory and practice of education. It is the only examination in the theory and practice of education for men engaged in middle and upper class teaching in this country. Except the Teacher's Diploma. And so few come--not two hundred a year. Mostly governesses. The men prefer to teach by rule of thumb, you know. English characteristic--rule of thumb. It doesn't do to say anything of course--but there's bound to be--something happen--something a little disagreeable--somewhen if things go on as they do. American schools keep on getting better--German too. What used to do won't do now. I tell this to you, you know, but it doesn't do to tell everyone. It doesn't do. It doesn't do to do anything. So much has to be considered. However ... But you'd do well to get a diploma and make yourself efficient. Though that's looking ahead."
He spoke of looking ahead with an apologetic laugh as though it was an amiable57 weakness of his. He turned from such abstruse58 matters and furnished Lewisham with the particulars of the college diplomas, and proceeded to other possibilities. "There's private tuition," he said. "Would you mind a backward boy? Then we are occasionally asked for visiting masters. Mostly by girls' schools. But that's for older men--married men, you know."
"I am married," said Lewisham.
"_Eh_?" said the College of Pedagogues, startled.
"I _am_ married," said Lewisham.
"Dear me," said the College of Pedagogues gravely, and regarding Mr. Lewisham over gold-rimmed glasses. "Dear me! And I am more than twice your age, and I am not married at all. One-and-twenty! Have you--have you been married long?"
"A few weeks," said Lewisham.
"That's very remarkable," said the College of Pedagogues. "Very interesting.... _Really!_ Your wife must be a very courageous59 young person.... Excuse me! You know--You will really have a hard fight for a position. However--it certainly makes you eligible60 for girls' schools; it does do that. To a certain extent, that is."
The evidently enhanced respect of the College of Pedagogues pleased Lewisham extremely. But his encounter with the Medical, Scholastic, and Clerical Agency that holds by Waterloo Bridge was depressing again, and after that he set out to walk home. Long before he reached home he was tired, and his simple pride in being married and in active grapple with an unsympathetic world had passed. His surrender on the religious question had left a rankling61 bitterness behind it; the problem of the clothes was acutely painful. He was still far from a firm grasp of the fact that his market price was under rather than over one hundred pounds a year, but that persuasion62 was gaining ground in his mind.
The day was a greyish one, with a dull cold wind, and a nail in one of his boots took upon itself to be objectionable. Certain wild shots and disastrous63 lapses64 in his recent botanical examination, that he had managed to keep out of his mind hitherto, forced their way on his attention. For the first time since his marriage he harboured premonitions of failure.
When he got in he wanted to sit down at once in the little creaky chair by the fire, but Ethel came flitting from the newly bought typewriter with arms extended and prevented him. "Oh!--it _has_ been dull," she said.
He missed the compliment. "_I_ haven't had such a giddy time that you should grumble," he said, in a tone that was novel to her. He disengaged himself from her arms and sat down. He noticed the expression of her face.
"I'm rather tired," he said by way of apology. "And there's a confounded nail I must hammer down in my boot. It's tiring work hunting up these agents, but of course it's better to go and see them. How have you been getting on?"
"All right," she said, regarding him. And then, "You _are_ tired. We'll have some tea. And--let me take off your boot for you, dear. Yes--I will."
She rang the bell, bustled65 out of the room, called for tea at the staircase, came back, pulled out Madam Gadow's ungainly hassock and began unlacing his boot. Lewisham's mood changed. "You _are_ a trump66, Ethel," he said; "I'm hanged if you're not." As the laces flicked67 he bent68 forward and kissed her ear. The unlacing was suspended and there were reciprocal endearments69....
Presently he was sitting in his slippers70, with a cup of tea in his hand, and Ethel, kneeling on the hearthrug with the firelight on her face, was telling him of an answer that had come that afternoon to her advertisement in the _Athenaeum_.
"That's good," said Lewisham.
"It's a novelist," she said with the light of pride in her eyes, and handed him the letter. "Lucas Holderness, the author of 'The Furnace of Sin' and other stories."
"That's first rate," said Lewisham with just a touch of envy, and bent forward to read by the firelight.
The letter was from an address in Judd Street, Euston Road, written on good paper and in a fair round hand such as one might imagine a novelist using. "Dear Madam," said the letter, "I propose to send you, by registered letter, the MS. of a three-volume novel. It is about 90,000 words--but you must count the exact number."
"How I shall count I don't know," said Ethel.
"I'll show you a way," said Lewisham. "There's no difficulty in that. You count the words on three or four pages, strike an average, and multiply."
"But, of course, before doing so I must have a satisfactory guarantee that my confidence in putting my work in your hands will not be misplaced and that your execution is of the necessary high quality."
"Oh!" said Lewisham; "that's a bother."
"Accordingly I must ask you for references."
"That's a downright nuisance," said Lewisham. "I suppose that ass9, Lagune ... But what's this? 'Or, failing references, for a deposit ...' That's reasonable, I suppose."
It was such a moderate deposit too--merely a guinea. Even had the doubt been stronger, the aspect of helpful hopeful little Ethel eager for work might well have thrust it aside. "Sending him a cheque will show him we have a banking71 account behind us," said Lewisham,--his banking was still sufficiently72 recent for pride. "We will send him a cheque. That'll settle _him_ all right."
That evening after the guinea cheque had been despatched, things were further brightened by the arrival of a letter of atrociously jellygraphed advices from Messrs. Danks and Wimborne. They all referred to resident vacancies73 for which Lewisham was manifestly unsuitable, nevertheless their arrival brought an encouraging assurance of things going on, of shifting and unstable74 places in the defences of the beleaguered75 world. Afterwards, with occasional endearments for Ethel, he set himself to a revision of his last year's note-books, for now the botany was finished, the advanced zoological course--the last lap, as it were, for the Forbes medal--was beginning. She got her best hat from the next room to make certain changes in the arrangement of its trimmings. She sat in the little chair, while Lewisham, with documents spread before him, sat at the table.
Presently she looked up from an experimental arrangement of her cornflowers, and discovered Lewisham, no longer reading, but staring blankly at the middle of the table-cloth, with an extraordinary misery77 in his eyes. She forgot the cornflowers and stared at him.
"Penny," she said after an interval78.
Lewisham started and looked up. "_Eh_?"
"Why were you looking so miserable79?" she asked.
"_Was_ I looking miserable?"
"Yes. And _cross_!"
"I was thinking just then that I would like to boil a bishop10 or so in oil."
"My dear!"
"They know perfectly80 well the case against what they teach, they know it's neither madness nor wickedness nor any great harm, to others not to believe, they know perfectly well that a man may be as honest as the day, and right--right and decent in every way--and not believe in what they teach. And they know that it only wants the edge off a man's honour, for him to profess anything in the way of belief. Just anything. And they won't say so. I suppose they want the edge off every man's honour. If a man is well off they will truckle to him no end, though he laughs at all their teaching. They'll take gold plate from company promoters and rent from insanitary houses. But if a man is poor and doesn't profess to believe in what some of them scarcely believe themselves, they wouldn't lift a finger to help him against the ignorance of their followers81. Your stepfather was right enough there. They know what's going on. They know that it means lying and humbug82 for any number of people, and they don't care. Why should they? _They've_ got it down all right. They're spoilt, and why shouldn't we be?"
Lewisham having selected the bishops83 as scapegoats84 for his turpitude85, was inclined to ascribe even the nail in his boot to their agency.
Mrs. Lewisham looked puzzled. She realised his drift.
"You're not," she said, and dropped her voice, "an _infidel_?"
Lewisham nodded gloomily. "Aren't you?" he said.
"Oh no," said Mrs. Lewisham.
"But you don't go to church, you don't--"
"No, I don't," said Mrs. Lewisham; and then with more assurance, "But I'm not an infidel."
"I suppose so."
"But a Christian--What do you believe?"
"Oh! to tell the truth, and do right, and not hurt or injure people and all that."
"That's not a Christian. A Christian is one who believes."
"It's what _I_ mean by a Christian," said Mrs. Lewisham.
"Oh! at that rate anyone's a Christian," said Lewisham. "We all think it's right to do right and wrong to do wrong."
"But we don't all do it," said Mrs. Lewisham, taking up the cornflowers again.
"No," said Lewisham, a little taken aback by the feminine method of discussion. "We don't all do it--certainly." He stared at her for a moment--her head was a little on one side and her eyes on the cornflower--and his mind was full of a strange discovery. He seemed on the verge87 of speaking, and turned to his note-book again.
Very soon the centre of the table-cloth resumed its sway.
* * * * *
The following day Mr. Lucas Holderness received his cheque for a guinea. Unhappily it was crossed. He meditated for some time, and then took pen and ink and improved Lewisham's careless "one" to "five" and touched up his unticked figure one to correspond.
You perceive him, a lank76, cadaverous, good-looking man with long black hair and a semi-clerical costume of quite painful rustiness88. He made the emendations with grave carefulness. He took the cheque round to his grocer. His grocer looked at it suspiciously.
"You pay it in," said Mr. Lucas Holderness, "if you've any doubts about it. Pay it in. _I_ don't know the man or what he is. He may be a swindler for all I can tell. _I_ can't answer for him. Pay it in and see. Leave the change till then. I can wait. I'll call round in a few days' time."
"All right, wasn't it?" said Mr. Lucas Holderness in a casual tone two days later.
"Quite, sir," said his grocer with enhanced respect, and handed him his four pounds thirteen and sixpence change.
Mr. Lucas Holderness, who had been eyeing the grocer's stock with a curious intensity89, immediately became animated90 and bought a tin of salmon91. He went out of the shop with the rest of the money in his hand, for the pockets of his clothes were old and untrustworthy. At the baker's he bought a new roll.
He bit a huge piece of the roll directly he was out of the shop, and went on his way gnawing92. It was so large a piece that his gnawing mouth was contorted into the ugliest shapes. He swallowed by an effort, stretching his neck each time. His eyes expressed an animal satisfaction. He turned the corner of Judd Street biting again at the roll, and the reader of this story, like the Lewishams, hears of him no more.
收听单词发音 |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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literate
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| n.学者；adj.精通文学的，受过教育的 | |
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scholastic
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| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
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disabuse
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| v.解惑；矫正 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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assertive
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| adj.果断的，自信的，有冲劲的 | |
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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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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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dissented
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| 不同意，持异议( dissent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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kindly
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austere
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disingenuous
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corrupting
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的现在分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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prospectus
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| n.计划书；说明书；慕股书 | |
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pensively
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31
fad
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| n.时尚；一时流行的狂热；一时的爱好 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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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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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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45
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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polytechnics
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| 理工学院( polytechnic的名词复数 )； 工艺的，综合技术的 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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asymmetry
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| n.不对称；adj.不对称的，不对等的 | |
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askew
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| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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pedagogues
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| n.教师，卖弄学问的教师( pedagogue的名词复数 ) | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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abstruse
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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rankling
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的现在分词 ) | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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lapses
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| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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vacancies
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| n.空房间( vacancy的名词复数 )；空虚；空白；空缺 | |
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unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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beleaguered
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| adj.受到围困[围攻]的；包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词)；困扰；骚扰 | |
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lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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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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81
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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82
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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83
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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scapegoats
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| n.代人受过的人，替罪羊( scapegoat的名词复数 )v.使成为替罪羊( scapegoat的第三人称单数 ) | |
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85
turpitude
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| n.可耻；邪恶 | |
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86
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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87
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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88
rustiness
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| 生锈，声音沙哑； 荒疏； 锈蚀 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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91
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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92
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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