In which There is a Taste of a Little Dinner and an Aftertaste
‘But Tony lives!’ Emma Dunstane cried, on her solitary1 height, with the full accent of envy marking the verb; and when she wrote enviously2 to her friend of the life among bright intelligences, and of talk worth hearing, it was a happy signification that health, frail3 though it might be, had grown importunate4 for some of the play of life. Diana sent her word to name her day, and she would have her choicest to meet her dearest. They were in the early days of December, not the best of times for improvized gatherings5. Emma wanted, however, to taste them as they cropped; she was also, owing to her long isolation6, timid at a notion of encountering the pick of the London world, prepared by Tony to behold7 ‘a wonder more than worthy8 of them,’ as her friend unadvisedly wrote. That was why she came unexpectedly, and for a mixture of reasons, went to an hotel. Fatality9 designed it so. She was reproached, but she said: ‘You have to write or you entertain at night; I should be a clog10 and fret11 you. My hotel is Maitland’s; excellent; I believe I am to lie on the pillow where a crowned head reposed12! You will perceive that I am proud as well as comfortable. And I would rather meet your usual set of guests.’
‘The reason why I have been entertaining at night is, that Percy is harassed13 and requires enlivening,’ said Diana. ‘He brings his friends. My house is open to them, if it amuses him. What the world says, is past a thought. I owe him too much.’
Emma murmured that the world would soon be pacified14.
Diana shook her head. ‘The poor man is better; able to go about his affairs; and I am honestly relieved. It lays a spectre. As for me, I do not look ahead. I serve as a kind of secretary to Percy. I labour at making abstracts by day, and at night preside at my suppertable. You would think it monotonous15; no incident varies the course we run. I have no time to ask whether it is happiness. It seems to bear a resemblance.’
Emma replied: ‘He may be everything you tell me. He should not have chosen the last night of the Opera to go to your box and sit beside you till the fall of the curtain. The presence at the Opera of a man notoriously indifferent to music was enough in itself.’
Diana smiled with languor16. ‘You heard of that? But the Opera was The Puritani, my favourite. And he saw me sitting in Lady Pennon’s box alone. We were compromised neck-deep already. I can kiss you, my own Emmy, till I die; ‘but what the world says, is what the wind says. Besides he has his hopes.... If I am blackened ever so thickly, he can make me white. Dear me! if the world knew that he comes here almost nightly! It will; and does it matter? I am his in soul; the rest is waste-paper—a half-printed sheet.’
‘Provided he is worthy of such devotion!’
‘He is absolute worthiness17. He is the prince of men: I dread18 to say, mine! for fear. But Emmy will not judge him tomorrow by contrast with more voluble talkers.—I can do anything but read poetry now. That kills me!—See him through me. In nature, character, intellect, he has no rival. Whenever I despond—and it comes now and then—I rebuke19 myself with this one admonition.
Simply to have known him! Admit that for a woman to find one who is worthy among the opposite creatures, is a happy termination of her quest, and in some sort dismisses her to the Shades, an uncomplaining ferry-bird. If my end were at hand I should have no cause to lament20 it. We women miss life only when we have to confess we have never met the man to reverence21.’
Emma had to hear a very great deal of Mr. Percy. Diana’s comparison of herself to ‘the busy bee at a window-pane,’ was more in her old manner; and her friend would have hearkened to the marvels23 of the gentle man less unrefreshed, had it not appeared to her that her Tony gave in excess for what was given in return. She hinted her view...
‘It is expected of our sex,’ Diana said.
The work of busy bee at a window-pane had at any rate not spoilt her beauty, though she had voluntarily, profitlessly, become this man’s drudge24, and her sprightly25 fancy, her ready humour and darting26 look all round in discussion, were rather deadened.
But the loss was not perceptible in the circle of her guests. Present at a dinner little indicating the last, were Whitmonby, in lively trim for shuffling27, dealing28, cutting, trumping29 or drawing trumps30; Westlake, polishing epigrams under his eyelids31; Henry Wilmers, who timed an anecdote32 to strike as the passing hour without freezing the current; Sullivan Smith, smoked, cured and ready to flavour; Percy Dacier, pleasant listener, measured speaker; and young Arthur Rhodes, the neophyte33 of the hostess’s training; of whom she had said to Emma, ‘The dear boy very kindly34 serves to frank an unlicenced widow’; and whom she prompted and made her utmost of, with her natural tact35. These she mixed and leavened36. The talk was on high levels and low; an enchantment37 to Emma Dunstane: now a story; a question opening new routes, sharp sketches38 of known personages; a paradox39 shot by laughter as soon as uttered; and all so smoothly40; not a shadow of the dominant41 holder-forth42 or a momentary43 prospect44 of dead flats; the mellow45 ring of appositeness being the concordant note of deliveries running linked as they flashed, and a tolerant philosophy of the sage46 in the world recurrently the keynote.
Once only had Diana to protect her nurseling. He cited a funny line from a recent popular volume of verse, in perfect A propos, looking at Sullivan Smith; who replied, that the poets had become too many for him, and he read none now. Diana said: ‘There are many Alexanders, but Alexander of Macedon is not dwarfed47 by the number.’ She gave him an opening for a smarter reply, but he lost it in a comment—against Whitmonby’s cardinal48 rule: ‘The neatest turn of the wrist that ever swung a hero to crack a crown!’ and he bowed to young Rhodes: ‘I’ll read your versicler tomorrow morning early.’ The latter expressed a fear that the hour was too critical for poetry.
‘I have taken the dose at a very early hour,’ said Whitmonby, to bring conversation to the flow again, ‘and it effaced49 the critical mind completely.’
‘But did not silence the critical nose,’ observed Westlake.
Wilmers named the owner of the longest nose in Europe.
‘Potentially, indeed a critic!’ said Diana.
‘Nights beside it must be fearful, and good matter for a divorce, if the poor dear lady could hale it to the doors of the Vatican!’ Sullivan Smith exclaimed. ‘But there’s character in noses.’
‘Calculable by inches?’ Dacier asked.
‘More than in any other feature,’ said Lady Dunstane. ‘The Riffords are all prodigiously50 gifted and amusing: suspendens omnia naso. It should be prayed for in families.’
‘Totum ut to faciant, Fabulle, nasum,’ rejoined Whitmonby. ‘Lady Isabella was reading the tale of the German princess, who had a sentinel stationed some hundred yards away to whisk off the flies, and she owned to me that her hand instinctively51 travelled upward.’
‘Candour is the best concealment52, when one has to carry a saddle of absurdity,’ said Diana. ‘Touchstone’s “poor thing, but mine own,” is godlike in its enveloping53 fold.’
‘The most comforting sermon ever delivered on property in poverty,’ said Arthur Rhodes.
Westlake assented54. ‘His choice of Audrey strikes me as an exhibition of the sure instinct for pasture of the philosophical55 jester in a forest.’
‘With nature’s woman, if he can find her, the urban seems equally at home,’ said Lady Dunstane.
‘Baron Pawle is an example,’ added Whitmonby. ‘His cook is a pattern wife to him. I heard him say at table that she was responsible for all except the wines. “I wouldn’t have them on my conscience, with a Judge!” my lady retorted.’
‘When poor Madame de Jacquieres was dying,’ said Wilmers, ‘her confessor sat by her bedside, prepared for his ministrations. “Pour commencer, mon ami, jamais je n’ai fait rien hors nature.”’
Lord Wadaster had uttered something tolerably similar: ‘I am a sinner, and in good society.’ Sir Abraham Hartiston, a minor56 satellite of the Regent, diversified57 this: ‘I am a sinner, and go to good society.’ Madame la Comtesse de la Roche–Aigle, the cause of many deaths, declared it unwomanly to fear anything save ‘les revenants.’ Yet the countess could say the pretty thing: ‘Foot on a flower, then think of me!’
‘Sentimentality puts up infant hands for absolution,’ said Diana.
‘But tell me,’ Lady Dunstane inquired generally, ‘why men are so much happier than women in laughing at their spouses58?’
They are humaner, was one dictum; they are more frivolous59, ironically another.
‘It warrants them for blowing the bugle-horn of masculine superiority night and morning from the castle-walls,’ Diana said.
‘I should imagine it is for joy of heart that they still have cause to laugh!’ said Westlake.
On the other hand, are women really pained by having to laugh at their lords? Curious little speeches flying about the great world, affirmed the contrary. But the fair speakers were chartered libertines60, and their laugh admittedly had a biting acid. The parasite61 is concerned in the majesty62 of the tree.
‘We have entered Botany Bay,’ Diana said to Emma; who answered: ‘A metaphor63 is the Deus ex machine, of an argument’; and Whitmonby, to lighten a shadow of heaviness, related allusively64 an anecdote of the Law Courts. Sullivan Smith begged permission to ‘black cap’ it with Judge FitzGerald’s sentence upon a convicted criminal: ‘Your plot was perfect but for One above.’ Dacier cited an execrable impromptu65 line of the Chief of the Opposition66 in Parliament. The Premier67, it was remarked, played him like an angler his fish on the hook; or say, Mr. Serjeant Rufus his witness in the box.
‘Or a French journalist an English missionary,’ said Westlake; and as the instance was recent it was relished68.
The talk of Premiers69 offered Whitmonby occasion for a flight to the Court of Vienna and Kaunitz. Wilmers told a droll70 story of Lord Busby’s missing the Embassy there. Westlake furnished a sample of the tranquil71 sententiousness of Busby’s brother Robert during a stormy debate in the House of Commons.
‘I remember,’ Dacier was reminded, ‘hearing him say, when the House resembled a Chartist riot, “Let us stand aside and meditate72 on Life. If Youth could know, in the season of its reaping of the Pleasures, that it is but sowing Doctor’s bills!”’
Latterly a malady73 had supervened, and Bob Busby had retired74 from the universal to the special;—his mysterious case.
‘Assure him, that is endemic. He may be cured of his desire for the exposition of it,’ said Lady Dunstane.
Westlake chimed with her: ‘Yes, the charm in discoursing75 of one’s case is over when the individual appears no longer at odds76 with Providence77.’
‘But then we lose our Tragedy,’ said Whitmonby.
‘Our Comedy too,’ added Diana. ‘We must consent to be Busbied for the sake of the instructive recreations.’
‘A curious idea, though,’ said Sullivan Smith, ‘that some of the grand instructive figures were in their day colossal78 bores!’
‘So you see the marvel22 of the poet’s craft at last?’ Diana smiled on him, and he vowed79: ‘I’ll read nothing else for a month!’ Young Rhodes bade him beware of a deluge80 in proclaiming it.
They rose from table at ten, with the satisfaction of knowing that they had not argued, had not wrangled81, had never stagnated82, and were digestingly refreshed; as it should be among grown members of the civilized83 world, who mean to practise philosophy, making the hour of the feast a balanced recreation and a regeneration of body and mind.
‘Evenings like these are worth a pilgrimage,’ Emma said, embracing Tony outside the drawing-room door. ‘I am so glad I came: and if I am strong enough, invite me again in the Spring. To-morrow early I start for Copsley, to escape this London air. I shall hope to have you there soon.’
She was pleased by hearing Tony ask her whether she did not think that Arthur Rhodes had borne himself well; for it breathed of her simply friendly soul.
The gentlemen followed Lady Dunstane in a troop, Dacier yielding perforce the last adieu to young Rhodes.
Five minutes later Diana was in her dressing-room, where she wrote at night, on the rare occasions now when she was left free for composition. Beginning to dwell on THE MAN OF TWO MINDS, she glanced at the woman likewise divided, if not similarly; and she sat brooding. She did not accuse her marriage of being the first fatal step: her error was the step into Society without the wherewithal to support her position there. Girls of her kind, airing their wings above the sphere of their birth, are cryingly adventuresses. As adventuresses they are treated.
Vain to be shrewish with the world! Rather let us turn and scold our nature for irreflectively rushing to the cream and honey! Had she subsisted84 on her small income in a country cottage, this task of writing would have been holiday. Or better, if, as she preached to Mary Paynham, she had apprenticed85 herself to some productive craft. The simplicity86 of the life of labour looked beautiful. What will not look beautiful contrasted with the fly in the web? She had chosen to be one of the flies of life.
Instead of running to composition, her mind was eloquent87 with a sermon to Arthur Rhodes, in Redworth’s vein88; more sympathetically, of course. ‘For I am not one of the lecturing Mammonites!’ she could say.
She was far from that. Penitentially, in the thick of her disdain89 of the arrogant90 money-Betters, she pulled out a drawer where her bank-book lay, and observed it contemplatively; jotting91 down a reflection before the dread book of facts was opened: ‘Gaze on the moral path you should have taken, you are asked for courage to commit a sanctioned suicide, by walking back to it stripped—a skeleton self.’ She sighed forth: ‘But I have no courage: I never had!’ The book revealed its tale in a small pencilled computation of the bank-clerk’s; on the peccant side. Credit presented many pages blanks. She seemed to have withdrawn92 from the struggle with such a partner.
It signified an immediate93 appeal to the usurers, unless the publisher could be persuaded, with three parts of the book in his hands, to come to the rescue. Work! roared old Debit94, the sinner turned slavedriver.
Diana smoothed her wrists, compressing her lips not to laugh at the simulation of an attitude of combat. She took up her pen.
And strange to think, she could have flowed away at once on the stuff that Danvers delighted to read!—wicked princes, rogue95 noblemen, titled wantons, daisy and lily innocents, traitorous96 marriages, murders, a gallows97 dangling98 a corpse99 dotted by a moon, and a woman bowed beneath. She could have written, with the certainty that in the upper and the middle as well as in the lower classes of the country, there would be a multitude to read that stuff, so cordially, despite the gaps between them, are they one in their literary tastes. And why should they not read it? Her present mood was a craving100 for excitement; for incident, wild action, the primitive101 machinery102 of our species; any amount of theatrical103 heroics, pathos104, and clown-gabble. A panorama105 of scenes came sweeping106 round her.
She was, however, harnessed to a different kind of vehicle, and had to drag it. The sound of the house-door shutting, imagined perhaps, was a fugitive107 distraction108. Now to animate109 The Man of Two Minds!
He is courting, but he is burdened with the task of tasks. He has an ideal of womanhood and of the union of couples: a delicacy110 extreme as his attachment111: and he must induce the lady to school herself to his ideal, not allowing her to suspect him less devoted112 to her person; while she, an exacting113 idol114, will drink any quantity of idealization as long as he starts it from a full acceptance of her acknowledged qualities. Diana could once have tripped the scene along airily. She stared at the opening sentence, a heavy bit of moralized manufacture, fit to yoke115 beside that on her view of her bank-book.
‘It has come to this—I have no head,’ she cried.
And is our public likely to muster116 the slightest taste for comic analysis that does not tumble to farce117? The doubt reduced her whole MS. to a leaden weight, composed for sinking. Percy’s addiction118 to burlesque119 was a further hindrance120, for she did not perceive how her comedy could be strained to gratify it.
There was a knock, and Danvers entered. ‘You have apparently121 a liking122 for late hours,’ observed her mistress. ‘I told you to go to bed.’ ‘It is Mr. Dacier,’ said Danvers. ‘He wishes to see me?’ ‘Yes, ma’am. He apologized for disturbing you.’ ‘He must have some good reason.’ What could it be! Diana’s glass approved her appearance. She pressed the black swell123 of hair above her temples, rather amazed, curious, inclined to a beating of the heart.
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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enviously
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| adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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pacified
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的过去式和过去分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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worthiness
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| 价值，值得 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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drudge
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| n.劳碌的人；v.做苦工，操劳 | |
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sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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trumping
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| v.（牌戏）出王牌赢（一牌或一墩）( trump的现在分词 )；吹号公告，吹号庆祝；吹喇叭；捏造 | |
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trumps
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| abbr.trumpets 喇叭；小号；喇叭形状的东西；喇叭筒v.（牌戏）出王牌赢（一牌或一墩）( trump的过去式 )；吹号公告，吹号庆祝；吹喇叭；捏造 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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neophyte
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| n.新信徒；开始者 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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leavened
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| adj.加酵母的v.使（面团）发酵( leaven的过去式和过去分词 )；在…中掺入改变的因素 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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prodigiously
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| adv.异常地，惊人地，巨大地 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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spouses
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| n.配偶，夫或妻( spouse的名词复数 ) | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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60
libertines
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| n.放荡不羁的人，淫荡的人( libertine的名词复数 ) | |
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61
parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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62
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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63
metaphor
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| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
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64
allusively
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| adj.暗指的，影射，间接提到 | |
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65
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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66
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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67
premier
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| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
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68
relished
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| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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69
premiers
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| n.总理，首相( premier的名词复数 )；首席官员， | |
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70
droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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71
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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72
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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73
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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74
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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75
discoursing
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| 演说（discourse的现在分词形式） | |
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76
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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77
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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79
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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80
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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81
wrangled
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| v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
stagnated
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| v.停滞，不流动，不发展( stagnate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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84
subsisted
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
apprenticed
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| 学徒，徒弟( apprentice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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88
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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89
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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jotting
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| n.简短的笔记，略记v.匆忙记下( jot的现在分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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92
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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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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94
debit
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| n.借方，借项，记人借方的款项 | |
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95
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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traitorous
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| adj. 叛国的, 不忠的, 背信弃义的 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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100
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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101
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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102
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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103
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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104
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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105
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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107
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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108
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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109
animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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111
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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112
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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113
exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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114
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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115
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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116
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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117
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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118
addiction
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| n.上瘾入迷，嗜好 | |
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119
burlesque
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| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
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120
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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121
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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122
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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123
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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