Melbourne is built on two hills and the valley that lies between.
It was over a year since Mahony or Purdy had been last in the capital, and next morning, on stepping out of the “Adam and Eve,” they walked up the eastern slope to look about them. From the summit of the hill their view stretched to the waters of the Bay, and its forest of masts. The nearer foreground was made up of mud flats, through which a sluggish1, coffee-coloured river wound its way to the sea. On the horizon to the north, the Dandenong Ranges rose storm-blue and distinct, and seemed momently to be drawing nearer; for a cold wind was blowing, which promised rain. The friends caught their glimpses of the landscape between dense2 clouds of white dust, which blotted3 everything out for minutes at a time, and filled eyes, nose, ears with a gritty powder.
Tiring of this they turned and descended4 Great Collins Street — a spacious5 thoroughfare that dipped into the hollow and rose again, and was so long that on its western height pedestrians6 looked no bigger than ants. In the heart of the city men were everywhere at work, laying gas and drain-pipes, macadamising, paving, kerbing: no longer would the old wives’ tale be credited of the infant drowned in the deeps of Swanston Street, or of the bullock which sank, inch by inch, before its owner’s eyes in the Elizabeth Street bog7. Massive erections of freestone were going up alongside here a primitive8, canvas-fronted dwelling9, there one formed wholly of galvanised iron. Fashionable shops, two storeys high, stood next tiny, dilapidated weatherboards. In the roadway, handsome chaises, landaus, four-in-hands made room for bullock-teams, eight and ten strong; for tumbrils carrying water or refuse — or worse; for droves of cattle, mobs of wild colts bound for auction10, flocks of sheep on their way to be boiled down for tallow. Stock-riders and bull-punchers rubbed shoulders with elegants in skirted coats and shepherd’s plaid trousers, who adroitly11 skipped heaps of stones and mortar12, or crept along the narrow edging of kerb.
The visitors from up-country paused to listen to a brass13 band that played outside a horse-auction mart; to watch the shooting in a rifle-gallery. The many decently attired14 females they met also called for notice. Not a year ago, and no reputable woman walked abroad oftener than she could help: now, even at this hour, the streets were starred with them. Purdy, open-mouthed, his eyes a-dance, turned his head this way and that, pointed15 and exclaimed. But then HE had slept like a log, and felt in his own words “as fit as a fiddle16.” Whereas Mahony had sat his horse the whole night through, had never ceased to balance himself in an imaginary saddle. And when at daybreak he had fallen into a deeper sleep, he was either reviewing outrageous17 females on Purdy’s behalf, or accepting wagers18 to kiss them.
Hence, diverting as were the sights of the city, he did not come to them with the naive19 receptivity of Purdy. It was, besides, hard to detach his thoughts from the disagreeable affair that had brought him to Melbourne. And as soon as banks and offices began to take down their shutters20, he hurried off to his interview with the carrying-agent.
The latter’s place of business was behind Great Collins Street, in a lane reached by a turnpike. Found with some trouble, it proved to be a rude shanty21 wedged in between a Chinese laundry and a Chinese eating-house. The entrance was through a yard in which stood a collection of rabbit-hutches, while further back gaped22 a dirty closet. At the sound of their steps the man they sought emerged, and Mahony could not repress an exclamation23 of surprise. When, a little over a twelvemonth ago, he had first had dealings with him, this Bolliver had been an alert and respectable man of business. Now he was evidently on the downgrade; and the cause of the deterioration24 was advertised in his bloodshot eyeballs and veinous cheeks. Early as was the hour, he had already been indulging: his breath puffed25 sour. Mahony prepared to state the object of his visit in no uncertain terms. But his preliminaries were cut short by a volley of abuse. The man accused him point-blank of having been privy26 to the rascally27 drayman’s fraud and of having hoped, by lying low, to evade28 his liability. Mahony lost his temper, and vowed29 that he would have Bolliver up for defamation30 of character. To which the latter retorted that the first innings in a court of law would be his: he had already put the matter in the hands of his attorney. This was the last straw. Purdy had to intervene and get Mahony away. They left the agent shaking his fist after them and cursing the bloody31 day on which he’d ever been fool enough to do a deal with a bloody gentleman.
At the corner of the street the friends paused for a hasty conference. Mahony was for marching off to take the best legal advice the city had to offer. But Purdy disapproved32. Why put himself to so much trouble, when he had old Ocock’s recommendation to his lawyer-son in his coat pocket? What, in the name of Leary-cum-Fitz, was the sense of making an enemy for life of the old man, his next-door neighbour, and a good customer to boot?
These counsels prevailed, and they turned their steps towards Chancery Lane, where was to be found every variety of legal practitioner33 from barrister to scrivener. Having matched the house-number and descried34 the words: “Mr. Henry Ocock, Conveyancer and Attorney, Commissioner35 of Affidavits,” painted black on two dusty windows, they climbed a wooden stair festooned with cobwebs, to a landing where an injunction to: “Push and Enter!” was, rudely inked on a sheet of paper and affixed36 to a door.
Obeying, they passed into a dingy37 little room, the entire furnishing of which consisted of a couple of deal tables, with a chair to each. These were occupied by a young man and a boy, neither of whom rose at their entrance. The lad was cutting notches38 in a stick and whistling tunefully; the clerk, a young fellow in the early twenties, who had a mop of flaming red hair and small-slit39 white-lashed eyes, looked at the strangers, but without lifting his head: his eyes performed the necessary motion.
Mahony desired to know if he had the pleasure of addressing Mr. Henry Ocock. In reply the red-head gave a noiseless laugh, which he immediately quenched40 by clapping his hand over his mouth, and shutting one eye at his junior said: “No — nor yet the Shar o’ Persia, nor Alphybetical Foster!— What can I do for you, governor?”
“You can have the goodness to inform Mr. Ocock that I wish to see him!” flashed back Mahony.
“Singin’ til-ril-i-tum-tum-dee-ay!— Now then, Mike, me child, toddle41!”
With patent reluctance42 the boy ceased his whittling43, and dawdled44 across the room to an inner door through which he vanished, having first let his knuckles45 bump, as if by chance, against the wood of the panel. A second later he reappeared. “Boss’s engaged.” But Mahony surprised a lightning sign between the pair.
“No, sir, I decline to state my business to anyone but Mr. Ocock himself!” he declared hotly, in response to the red-haired man’s invitation to “get it off his chest.” “If you choose to find out when he will be at liberty, I will wait so long — no longer.”
As the office-boy had somehow failed to hit his seat on his passage to the outer door, there was nothing left for the clerk to do but himself to undertake the errand. He lounged up from his chair, and, in his case without even the semblance46 of a knock, squeezed through a foot wide aperture47, in such a fashion that the two strangers should not catch a glimpse of what was going on inside. But his voice came to them through the thin partition. “Oh, just a couple o’ stony-broke Paddylanders.” Mahony, who had seized the opportunity to dart48 an angry glance at Purdy, which should say: “This is what one gets by coming to your second-rate pettifoggers!” now let his eyes rest on his friend and critically detailed49 the latter’s appearance. The description fitted to a nicety. Purdy did in truth look down on his luck. Unkempt, bearded to the eyes, there he stood clutching his shapeless old cabbage-tree, in mud-stained jumper and threadbare smalls — the very spit of the unsuccessful digger. Well might they be suspected of not owning the necessary to pay their way!
“All serene50, mister! The boss’ull take you on.”
The sanctum was a trifle larger than the outer room, but almost equally bare; half-a-dozen deed-boxes were piled up in one corner. Stalking in with his chin in the air, Mahony found himself in the presence of a man of his own age, who sat absorbed in the study of a document. At their entry two beady grey eyes lifted to take a brief but thorough survey, and a hand with a pencil in it pointed to the single empty chair. Mahony declined to translate the gesture and remained standing51.
Under the best of circumstances it irked him to be kept waiting. Here, following on the clerk’s saucy52 familiarity, the wilful53 delay made his gorge54 rise. For a few seconds he fumed55 in silence; then, his patience exhausted56, he burst out: “My time, sir, is as precious as your own. With your permission, I will take my business elsewhere.”
At these words, and at the tone in which they were spoken, the lawyer’s head shot up as if he had received a blow under the chin. Again he narrowed his eyes at the couple. And this time he laid the document from him and asked suavely58: “What can I do for you?”
The change in his manner though slight was unmistakable. Mahony had a nice ear for such refinements59, and responded to the shade of difference with the promptness of one who had been on the watch for it. His irritation60 fell; he was ready on the instant to be propitiated61. Putting his hat aside he sat down, and having introduced himself, made reference to Ballarat and his acquaintance with the lawyer’s father: “Who directed me to you, sir, for advice on a vexatious affair, in which I have had the misfortune to become involved.”
With a “Pray be seated!” Ocock rose and cleared a chair for Purdy. Resuming his seat he joined his hands, and wound them in and out. “I think you may take it from me that no case is so unpromising but what we shall be able to find a loophole.”
Mahony thanked him — with a touch of reserve. “I trust you will still be of that opinion when you have heard the facts.” And went on: “Myself, I do not doubt it. I am not a rich man, but serious though the monetary63 loss would be to me, I should settle the matter out of court, were I not positive that I had right on my side.” To which Ocock returned a quick: “Oh, quite so . . . of course.”
Like his old father, he was a short, heavily built man; but there the likeness64 ended. He had a high, domed65 forehead, above a thin, hooked nose. His skin was of an almost Jewish pallor. Fringes of straight, jet-black hair grew down the walls of his cheeks and round his chin, meeting beneath it. The shaven upper lid was long and flat, with no central markings, and helped to form a mouth that had not much more shape or expression than a slit cut by a knife in a sheet of paper. The chin was bare to the size of a crown-piece; and, both while he spoke57 and while he listened to others speaking, the lawyer caressed68 this patch with his finger-tips; so that in the course of time it had arrived at a state of high polish — like the shell of an egg.
The air with which he heard his new client out was of a non-committal kind; and Mahony, having talked his first heat off, grew chilled by the wet blanket of Ocock’s silence. There was nothing in this of the frank responsiveness with which your ordinary mortal lends his ear. The brain behind the dome66 was, one might be sure, adding, combining, comparing, and drawing its own conclusions. Why should lawyers, he wondered, treat those who came to them like children, advancing only in so far as it suited them out of the darkness where they housed among strangely worded paragraphs and obscure formulas?— But these musings were cut short. Having fondled his chin for a further moment, Ocock looked up and put a question. And, while he could not but admire the lawyer’s acumen69, this did not lessen70 Mahony’s discomfort71. All unguided, it went straight for what he believed to be the one weak spot in his armour72. It related to the drayman. Contrary to custom Mahony had, on this occasion, himself recommended the driver. And, as he admitted it, his ears rang again with the plaints of his stranded73 fellow-countryman, a wheedler74 from the South Country, off whose tongue the familiar brogue had dripped like honey. His recommendation, he explained, had been made out of charity; he had not forced the agent to engage the man; and it would surely be a gross injustice75 if he alone were to be held responsible.
To his relief Ocock did not seem to attach importance to the fact, but went on to ask whether any written agreement had existed between the parties. “No writing? H’m! So . . . so!” To read his thoughts was an impossibility; but as he proceeded with his catechism it was easy to see how his interest in the case grew. He began to treat it tenderly; warmed to it, as an artist to his work; and Mahony’s spirits rose in consequence.
Having selected a number of minor76 points that would tell in their favour, Ocock dilated77 upon the libellous aspersion78 that had been cast on Mahony’s good faith. “My experience has invariably been this, Mr. Mahony: people who suggest that kind of thing, and accuse others of it, are those who are accustomed to make use of such means themselves. In this case, there may have been no goods at all — the thing may prove to have been a put-up job from beginning to end.”
But his hearer’s start of surprise was too marked to be overlooked. “Well, let us take the existence of the goods for granted. But might they not, being partly of a perishable79 nature, have gone bad or otherwise got spoiled on the road, and not have been in a fit condition for you to receive at your end?”
This was credible80; Mahony nodded his assent81. He also added, gratuitously82, that he had before now been obliged to reclaim83 on casks of mouldy mess-pork. At which Ocock ceased coddling his chin to point a straight forefinger84 at him, with a triumphant85: “You see!”— But Purdy who, sick and tired of the discussion, had withdrawn86 to the window to watch the rain zig-zag in runlets down the dusty panes87, and hiss88 and spatter on the sill; Purdy puckered89 his lips to a sly and soundless whistle.
The interview at an end, Ocock mentioned, in his frigidly90 urbane91 way, that he had recently been informed there was an excellent opening for a firm of solicitors92 in Ballarat: could Mr. Mahony, as a resident, confirm the report? Mahony regretted his ignorance, but spoke in praise of the Golden City and its assured future.—“This would be most welcome news to your father, sir. I can picture his satisfaction on hearing it.”
—“Golly, Dick, that’s no mopoke!” was Purdy’s comment as they emerged into the rain-swept street. “A crafty93 devil, if ever I see’d one.”
“Henry Ocock seems to me to be a singularly able man,” replied Mahony drily. To his thinking, Purdy had cut a poor figure during the visit: he had said no intelligent word, but had lounged lumpishly in his chair — the very picture of the country man come up to the metropolis94 — and, growing tired of this, had gone like a restless child to thrum his fingers on the panes.
“Oh, you bet! He’ll slither you through.”
“What? Do you insinuate95 there’s any need for slithering . . as you call it?” cried Mahony.
“Why, Dick, old man. . . . And as long as he gets you through, what does it matter?”
“It matters to me, sir!”
The rain, a tropical deluge96, was over by the time they reached the hollow. The sun shone again, hot and sticky, and people were venturing forth97 from their shelters to wade98 through beds of mud, or to cross, on planks99, the deep, swift rivers formed by the open drains. There were several such cloud-bursts in the course of the afternoon; and each time the refuse of the city was whirled past on the flood, to be left as an edging to the footpaths100 when the water went down.
Mahony spent the rest of the day in getting together a fresh load of goods. For, whether he lost or won his suit, the store had to be restocked without delay.
That evening towards eight o’clock the two men turned out of the Lowther Arcade101. The night was cold, dark and wet; and they had wound comforters round their bare throats. They were on their way to the Mechanics’ Hall, to hear a lecture on Mesmerism. Mahony had looked forward to this all through the sorry job of choosing soaps and candles. The subject piqued102 his curiosity. It was the one drop of mental stimulant103 he could hope to extract from his visit. The theatre was out of the question: if none of the actors happened to be drunk, a fair proportion of the audience was sure to be.
Part of his pleasure this evening was due to Purdy having agreed to accompany him. It was always a matter of regret to Mahony that, outside the hobnob of daily life, he and his friend had so few interests in common; that Purdy should rest content with the coarse diversions of the ordinary digger.
Then, from the black shadows of the Arcade, a woman’s form detached itself, and a hand was laid on Purdy’s arm.
“Shout us a drink, old pal67!”
Mahony made a quick, repellent movement of the shoulder. But Purdy, some vagrom fancy quickened in him, either by the voice, which was not unrefined, or by the stealthiness of the approach, Purdy turned to look.
“Come, come, my boy. We’ve no time to lose.”
Without raising her pleasant voice, the woman levelled a volley of abuse at Mahony, then muttered a word in Purdy’s ear.
“Just half a jiff, Dick,” said Purdy. “Or go ahead.— I’ll make up on you.”
For a quarter of an hour Mahony aired his heels in front of a public-house. Then he gave it up, and went on his way. But his pleasure was damped: the inconsiderateness with which Purdy could shake him off, always had a disconcerting effect on him. To face the matter squarely: the friendship between them did not mean as much to Purdy as to him; the sudden impulse that had made the boy relinquish104 a promising62 clerkship to emigrate in his wake — into this he had read more than it would hold.— And, as he picked his muddy steps, Mahony agreed with himself that the net result, for him, of Purdy’s coming to the colony, had been to saddle him with a new responsibility. It was his lot for ever to be helping105 the lad out of tight places. Sometimes it made him feel unnecessarily bearish106. For Purdy had the knack107, common to sunny, improvident108 natures, of taking everything that was done for him for granted. His want of delicacy109 in this respect was distressing110. Yet, in spite of it all, it was hard to bear him a grudge111 for long together. A well-meaning young beggar if ever there was one! That very day how faithfully he had stuck at his side, assisting at dull discussions and duller purchasings, without once obtruding112 his own concerns.— And here Mahony remembered their talk on the ride to town. Purdy had expressed the wish to settle down and take a wife. A poor friend that would be who did not back him up in this intention.
As he sidled into one of the front benches of a half-empty hall — the mesmerist, a corpse-like man in black, already surveyed its thinness from the platform with an air of pained surprise — Mahony decided113 that Purdy should have his chance. The heavy rains of the day, and the consequent probable flooding of the Ponds and the Marsh114, would serve as an excuse for a change of route. He would go and have a look at Purdy’s sweetheart; would ride back to the diggings by way of Geelong.
收听单词发音 |
1
sluggish
|
|
| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
blotted
|
|
| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
pedestrians
|
|
| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
bog
|
|
| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
primitive
|
|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
auction
|
|
| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
adroitly
|
|
| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
mortar
|
|
| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
fiddle
|
|
| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
outrageous
|
|
| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
wagers
|
|
| n.赌注，用钱打赌( wager的名词复数 )v.在（某物）上赌钱，打赌( wager的第三人称单数 )；保证，担保 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
naive
|
|
| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
shanty
|
|
| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
gaped
|
|
| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
deterioration
|
|
| n.退化；恶化；变坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
puffed
|
|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
privy
|
|
| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
rascally
|
|
| adj. 无赖的，恶棍的 adv. 无赖地，卑鄙地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
evade
|
|
| vt.逃避，回避；避开，躲避 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
vowed
|
|
| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
defamation
|
|
| n.诽谤；中伤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
bloody
|
|
| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
disapproved
|
|
| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
practitioner
|
|
| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
descried
|
|
| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
commissioner
|
|
| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
affixed
|
|
| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
dingy
|
|
| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
notches
|
|
| n.（边缘或表面上的）V型痕迹( notch的名词复数 )；刻痕；水平；等级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
slit
|
|
| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
quenched
|
|
| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
toddle
|
|
| v.（如小孩）蹒跚学步 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
whittling
|
|
| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
dawdled
|
|
| v.混（时间）( dawdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
knuckles
|
|
| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
aperture
|
|
| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
dart
|
|
| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
detailed
|
|
| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
saucy
|
|
| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
wilful
|
|
| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
gorge
|
|
| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
fumed
|
|
| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
suavely
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
refinements
|
|
| n.（生活）风雅；精炼( refinement的名词复数 )；改良品；细微的改良；优雅或高贵的动作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
propitiated
|
|
| v.劝解，抚慰，使息怒( propitiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
62
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
monetary
|
|
| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
domed
|
|
| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
dome
|
|
| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
pal
|
|
| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
caressed
|
|
| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
acumen
|
|
| n.敏锐，聪明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
lessen
|
|
| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
armour
|
|
| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
stranded
|
|
| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
wheedler
|
|
| 行骗者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
75
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
dilated
|
|
| 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 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
aspersion
|
|
| n.诽谤，中伤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
perishable
|
|
| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
credible
|
|
| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
assent
|
|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
gratuitously
|
|
| 平白 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
reclaim
|
|
| v.要求归还，收回；开垦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
forefinger
|
|
| n.食指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
panes
|
|
| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
hiss
|
|
| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
puckered
|
|
| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
frigidly
|
|
| adv.寒冷地；冷漠地；冷淡地；呆板地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
91
urbane
|
|
| adj.温文尔雅的，懂礼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
solicitors
|
|
| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
crafty
|
|
| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
metropolis
|
|
| n.首府；大城市 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
insinuate
|
|
| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
deluge
|
|
| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
wade
|
|
| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
planks
|
|
| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
footpaths
|
|
| 人行小径，人行道( footpath的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
arcade
|
|
| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
piqued
|
|
| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
stimulant
|
|
| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
relinquish
|
|
| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
bearish
|
|
| adj.(行情)看跌的，卖空的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
knack
|
|
| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
improvident
|
|
| adj.不顾将来的，不节俭的，无远见的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
distressing
|
|
| a.使人痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
obtruding
|
|
| v.强行向前，强行，强迫( obtrude的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
marsh
|
|
| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |