Meanwhile, in the Butler home the family was assembling for dinner. Mrs. Butler was sitting in rotund complacency at the foot of the table, her gray hair combed straight back from her round, shiny forehead. She had on a dark-gray silk dress, trimmed with gray-and-white striped ribbon. It suited her florid temperament1 admirably. Aileen had dictated2 her mother’s choice, and had seen that it had been properly made. Norah was refreshingly3 youthful in a pale-green dress, with red-velvet cuffs4 and collar. She looked young, slender, gay. Her eyes, complexion5 and hair were fresh and healthy. She was trifling6 with a string of coral beads7 which her mother had just given her.
“Oh, look, Callum,” she said to her brother opposite her, who was drumming idly on the table with his knife and fork. “Aren’t they lovely? Mama gave them to me.”
“Mama does more for you than I would. You know what you’d get from me, don’t you?”
“What?”
He looked at her teasingly. For answer Norah made a face at him. Just then Owen came in and took his place at the table. Mrs. Butler saw Norah’s grimace8.
“Well, that’ll win no love from your brother, ye can depend on that,” she commented.
“Lord, what a day!” observed Owen, wearily, unfolding his napkin. “I’ve had my fill of work for once.”
“What’s the trouble?” queried9 his mother, feelingly.
“No real trouble, mother,” he replied. “Just everything — ducks and drakes, that’s all.”
“Well, ye must ate a good, hearty10 meal now, and that’ll refresh ye,” observed his mother, genially11 and feelingly. “Thompson”— she was referring to the family grocer —“brought us the last of his beans. You must have some of those.”
“Sure, beans’ll fix it, whatever it is, Owen,” joked Callum. “Mother’s got the answer.”
“They’re fine, I’d have ye know,” replied Mrs. Butler, quite unconscious of the joke.
“No doubt of it, mother,” replied Callum. “Real brain-food. Let’s feed some to Norah.”
“You’d better eat some yourself, smarty. My, but you’re gay! I suppose you’re going out to see somebody. That’s why.”
“Right you are, Norah. Smart girl, you. Five or six. Ten to fifteen minutes each. I’d call on you if you were nicer.”
“You would if you got the chance,” mocked Norah. “I’d have you know I wouldn’t let you. I’d feel very bad if I couldn’t get somebody better than you.”
“As good as, you mean,” corrected Callum.
“Children, children!” interpolated Mrs. Butler, calmly, looking about for old John, the servant. “You’ll be losin’ your tempers in a minute. Hush12 now. Here comes your father. Where’s Aileen?”
Butler walked heavily in and took his seat.
John, the servant, appeared bearing a platter of beans among other things, and Mrs. Butler asked him to send some one to call Aileen.
“It’s gettin’ colder, I’m thinkin’,” said Butler, by way of conversation, and eyeing Aileen’s empty chair. She would come soon now — his heavy problem. He had been very tactful these last two months — avoiding any reference to Cowperwood in so far as he could help in her presence.
“It’s colder,” remarked Owen, “much colder. We’ll soon see real winter now.”
Old John began to offer the various dishes in order; but when all had been served Aileen had not yet come.
“See where Aileen is, John,” observed Mrs. Butler, interestedly. “The meal will be gettin’ cold.”
Old John returned with the news that Aileen was not in her room.
“Sure she must be somewhere,” commented Mrs. Butler, only slightly perplexed13. “She’ll be comin’, though, never mind, if she wants to. She knows it’s meal-time.”
The conversation drifted from a new water-works that was being planned to the new city hall, then nearing completion; Cowperwood’s financial and social troubles, and the state of the stock market generally; a new gold-mine in Arizona; the departure of Mrs. Mollenhauer the following Tuesday for Europe, with appropriate comments by Norah and Callum; and a Christmas ball that was going to be given for charity.
“Aileen’ll be wantin’ to go to that,” commented Mrs. Butler.
“I’m going, you bet,” put in Norah.
“Who’s going to take you?” asked Callum.
“That’s my affair, mister,” she replied, smartly.
The meal was over, and Mrs. Butler strolled up to Aileen’s room to see why she had not come down to dinner. Butler entered his den15, wishing so much that he could take his wife into his confidence concerning all that was worrying him. On his desk, as he sat down and turned up the light, he saw the note. He recognized Aileen’s handwriting at once. What could she mean by writing him? A sense of the untoward16 came to him, and he tore it open slowly, and, putting on his glasses, contemplated17 it solemnly.
So Aileen was gone. The old man stared at each word as if it had been written in fire. She said she had not gone with Cowperwood. It was possible, just the same, that he had run away from Philadelphia and taken her with him. This was the last straw. This ended it. Aileen lured18 away from home — to where — to what? Butler could scarcely believe, though, that Cowperwood had tempted19 her to do this. He had too much at stake; it would involve his own and Butler’s families. The papers would be certain to get it quickly. He got up, crumpling20 the paper in his hand, and turned about at a noise. His wife was coming in. He pulled himself together and shoved the letter in his pocket.
“Aileen’s not in her room,” she said, curiously21. “She didn’t say anything to you about going out, did she?”
“No,” he replied, truthfully, wondering how soon he should have to tell his wife.
“That’s odd,” observed Mrs. Butler, doubtfully. “She must have gone out after somethin’. It’s a wonder she wouldn’t tell somebody.”
Butler gave no sign. He dared not. “She’ll be back,” he said, more in order to gain time than anything else. He was sorry to have to pretend. Mrs. Butler went out, and he closed the door. Then he took out the letter and read it again. The girl was crazy. She was doing an absolutely wild, inhuman22, senseless thing. Where could she go, except to Cowperwood? She was on the verge23 of a public scandal, and this would produce it. There was just one thing to do as far as he could see. Cowperwood, if he were still in Philadelphia, would know. He would go to him — threaten, cajole, actually destroy him, if necessary. Aileen must come back. She need not go to Europe, perhaps, but she must come back and behave herself at least until Cowperwood could legitimately24 marry her. That was all he could expect now. She would have to wait, and some day perhaps he could bring himself to accept her wretched proposition. Horrible thought! It would kill her mother, disgrace her sister. He got up, took down his hat, put on his overcoat, and started out.
Arriving at the Cowperwood home he was shown into the reception-room. Cowperwood at the time was in his den looking over some private papers. When the name of Butler was announced he immediately went down-stairs. It was characteristic of the man that the announcement of Butler’s presence created no stir in him whatsoever25. So Butler had come. That meant, of course, that Aileen had gone. Now for a battle, not of words, but of weights of personalities26. He felt himself to be intellectually, socially, and in every other way the more powerful man of the two. That spiritual content of him which we call life hardened to the texture27 of steel. He recalled that although he had told his wife and his father that the politicians, of whom Butler was one, were trying to make a scapegoat28 of him, Butler, nevertheless, was not considered to be wholly alienated29 as a friend, and civility must prevail. He would like very much to placate30 him if he could, to talk out the hard facts of life in a quiet and friendly way. But this matter of Aileen had to be adjusted now once and for all. And with that thought in his mind he walked quickly into Butler’s presence.
The old man, when he learned that Cowperwood was in and would see him, determined31 to make his contact with the financier as short and effective as possible. He moved the least bit when he heard Cowperwood’s step, as light and springy as ever.
“Good evening, Mr. Butler,” said Cowperwood, cheerfully, when he saw him, extending his hand. “What can I do for you?”
“Ye can take that away from in front of me, for one thing,” said Butler, grimly referring to his hand. “I have no need of it. It’s my daughter I’ve come to talk to ye about, and I want plain answers. Where is she?”
“You mean Aileen?” said Cowperwood, looking at him with steady, curious, unrevealing eyes, and merely interpolating this to obtain a moment for reflection. “What can I tell you about her?”
“Ye can tell me where she is, that I know. And ye can make her come back to her home, where she belongs. It was bad fortune that ever brought ye across my doorstep; but I’ll not bandy words with ye here. Ye’ll tell me where my daughter is, and ye’ll leave her alone from now, or I’ll —” The old man’s fists closed like a vise, and his chest heaved with suppressed rage. “Ye’ll not be drivin’ me too far, man, if ye’re wise,” he added, after a time, recovering his equanimity32 in part. “I want no truck with ye. I want my daughter.”
“Listen, Mr. Butler,” said Cowperwood, quite calmly, relishing33 the situation for the sheer sense of superiority it gave him. “I want to be perfectly34 frank with you, if you will let me. I may know where your daughter is, and I may not. I may wish to tell you, and I may not. She may not wish me to. But unless you wish to talk with me in a civil way there is no need of our going on any further. You are privileged to do what you like. Won’t you come up-stairs to my room? We can talk more comfortably there.”
Butler looked at his former protege in utter astonishment35. He had never before in all his experience come up against a more ruthless type — suave36, bland37, forceful, unterrified. This man had certainly come to him as a sheep, and had turned out to be a ravening38 wolf. His incarceration39 had not put him in the least awe40.
“I’ll not come up to your room,” Butler said, “and ye’ll not get out of Philadelphy with her if that’s what ye’re plannin’. I can see to that. Ye think ye have the upper hand of me, I see, and ye’re anxious to make something of it. Well, ye’re not. It wasn’t enough that ye come to me as a beggar, cravin’ the help of me, and that I took ye in and helped ye all I could — ye had to steal my daughter from me in the bargain. If it wasn’t for the girl’s mother and her sister and her brothers — dacenter men than ever ye’ll know how to be — I’d brain ye where ye stand. Takin’ a young, innocent girl and makin’ an evil woman out of her, and ye a married man! It’s a God’s blessin’ for ye that it’s me, and not one of me sons, that’s here talkin’ to ye, or ye wouldn’t be alive to say what ye’d do.”
The old man was grim but impotent in his rage.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Butler,” replied Cowperwood, quietly. “I’m willing to explain, but you won’t let me. I’m not planning to run away with your daughter, nor to leave Philadelphia. You ought to know me well enough to know that I’m not contemplating41 anything of that kind; my interests are too large. You and I are practical men. We ought to be able to talk this matter over together and reach an understanding. I thought once of coming to you and explaining this; but I was quite sure you wouldn’t listen to me. Now that you are here I would like to talk to you. If you will come up to my room I will be glad to — otherwise not. Won’t you come up?”
Butler saw that Cowperwood had the advantage. He might as well go up. Otherwise it was plain he would get no information.
“Very well,” he said.
Cowperwood led the way quite amicably42, and, having entered his private office, closed the door behind him.
“We ought to be able to talk this matter over and reach an understanding,” he said again, when they were in the room and he had closed the door. “I am not as bad as you think, though I know I appear very bad.” Butler stared at him in contempt. “I love your daughter, and she loves me. I know you are asking yourself how I can do this while I am still married; but I assure you I can, and that I do. I am not happily married. I had expected, if this panic hadn’t come along, to arrange with my wife for a divorce and marry Aileen. My intentions are perfectly good. The situation which you can complain of, of course, is the one you encountered a few weeks ago. It was indiscreet, but it was entirely43 human. Your daughter does not complain — she understands.” At the mention of his daughter in this connection Butler flushed with rage and shame, but he controlled himself.
“And ye think because she doesn’t complain that it’s all right, do ye?” he asked, sarcastically44.
“From my point of view, yes; from yours no. You have one view of life, Mr. Butler, and I have another.”
“Ye’re right there,” put in Butler, “for once, anyhow.”
“That doesn’t prove that either of us is right or wrong. In my judgment45 the present end justifies46 the means. The end I have in view is to marry Aileen. If I can possibly pull myself out of this financial scrape that I am in I will do so. Of course, I would like to have your consent for that — so would Aileen; but if we can’t, we can’t.” (Cowperwood was thinking that while this might not have a very soothing47 effect on the old contractor48’s point of view, nevertheless it must make some appeal to his sense of the possible or necessary. Aileen’s present situation was quite unsatisfactory without marriage in view. And even if he, Cowperwood, was a convicted embezzler49 in the eyes of the public, that did not make him so. He might get free and restore himself — would certainly — and Aileen ought to be glad to marry him if she could under the circumstances. He did not quite grasp the depth of Butler’s religious and moral prejudices.) “Lately,” he went on, “you have been doing all you can, as I understand it, to pull me down, on account of Aileen, I suppose; but that is simply delaying what I want to do.”
“Ye’d like me to help ye do that, I suppose?” suggested Butler, with infinite disgust and patience.
“I want to marry Aileen,” Cowperwood repeated, for emphasis’ sake. “She wants to marry me. Under the circumstances, however you may feel, you can have no real objection to my doing that, I am sure; yet you go on fighting me — making it hard for me to do what you really know ought to be done.”
“Ye’re a scoundrel,” said Butler, seeing through his motives50 quite clearly. “Ye’re a sharper, to my way of thinkin’, and it’s no child of mine I want connected with ye. I’m not sayin’, seein’ that things are as they are, that if ye were a free man it wouldn’t be better that she should marry ye. It’s the one dacent thing ye could do — if ye would, which I doubt. But that’s nayther here nor there now. What can ye want with her hid away somewhere? Ye can’t marry her. Ye can’t get a divorce. Ye’ve got your hands full fightin’ your lawsuits51 and kapin’ yourself out of jail. She’ll only be an added expense to ye, and ye’ll be wantin’ all the money ye have for other things, I’m thinkin’. Why should ye want to be takin’ her away from a dacent home and makin’ something out of her that ye’d be ashamed to marry if you could? The laist ye could do, if ye were any kind of a man at all, and had any of that thing that ye’re plased to call love, would be to lave her at home and keep her as respectable as possible. Mind ye, I’m not thinkin’ she isn’t ten thousand times too good for ye, whatever ye’ve made of her. But if ye had any sinse of dacency left, ye wouldn’t let her shame her family and break her old mother’s heart, and that for no purpose except to make her worse than she is already. What good can ye get out of it, now? What good can ye expect to come of it? Be hivins, if ye had any sinse at all I should think ye could see that for yerself. Ye’re only addin’ to your troubles, not takin’ away from them — and she’ll not thank ye for that later on.”
He stopped, rather astonished that he should have been drawn52 into an argument. His contempt for this man was so great that he could scarcely look at him, but his duty and his need was to get Aileen back. Cowperwood looked at him as one who gives serious attention to another. He seemed to be thinking deeply over what Butler had said.
“To tell you the truth, Mr. Butler,” he said, “I did not want Aileen to leave your home at all; and she will tell you so, if you ever talk to her about it. I did my best to persuade her not to, and when she insisted on going the only thing I could do was to be sure she would be comfortable wherever she went. She was greatly outraged53 to think you should have put detectives on her trail. That, and the fact that you wanted to send her away somewhere against her will, was the principal reasons for her leaving. I assure you I did not want her to go. I think you forget sometimes, Mr. Butler, that Aileen is a grown woman, and that she has a will of her own. You think I control her to her great disadvantage. As a matter of fact, I am very much in love with her, and have been for three or four years; and if you know anything about love you know that it doesn’t always mean control. I’m not doing Aileen any injustice54 when I say that she has had as much influence on me as I have had on her. I love her, and that’s the cause of all the trouble. You come and insist that I shall return your daughter to you. As a matter of fact, I don’t know whether I can or not. I don’t know that she would go if I wanted her to. She might turn on me and say that I didn’t care for her any more. That is not true, and I would not want her to feel that way. She is greatly hurt, as I told you, by what you did to her, and the fact that you want her to leave Philadelphia. You can do as much to remedy that as I can. I could tell you where she is, but I do not know that I want to. Certainly not until I know what your attitude toward her and this whole proposition is to be.”
He paused and looked calmly at the old contractor, who eyed him grimly in return.
“What proposition are ye talkin’ about?” asked Butler, interested by the peculiar55 developments of this argument. In spite of himself he was getting a slightly different angle on the whole situation. The scene was shifting to a certain extent. Cowperwood appeared to be reasonably sincere in the matter. His promises might all be wrong, but perhaps he did love Aileen; and it was possible that he did intend to get a divorce from his wife some time and marry her. Divorce, as Butler knew, was against the rules of the Catholic Church, which he so much revered56. The laws of God and any sense of decency57 commanded that Cowperwood should not desert his wife and children and take up with another woman — not even Aileen, in order to save her. It was a criminal thing to plan, sociologically speaking, and showed what a villain58 Cowperwood inherently was; but, nevertheless, Cowperwood was not a Catholic, his views of life were not the same as his own, Butler’s, and besides and worst of all (no doubt due in part to Aileen’s own temperament), he had compromised her situation very materially. She might not easily be restored to a sense of of the normal and decent, and so the matter was worth taking into thought. Butler knew that ultimately he could not countenance59 any such thing — certainly not, and keep his faith with the Church — but he was human enough none the less to consider it. Besides, he wanted Aileen to come back; and Aileen from now on, he knew, would have some say as to what her future should be.
“Well, it’s simple enough,” replied Cowperwood. “I should like to have you withdraw your opposition60 to Aileen’s remaining in Philadelphia, for one thing; and for another, I should like you to stop your attacks on me.” Cowperwood smiled in an ingratiating way. He hoped really to placate Butler in part by his generous attitude throughout this procedure. “I can’t make you do that, of course, unless you want to. I merely bring it up, Mr. Butler, because I am sure that if it hadn’t been for Aileen you would not have taken the course you have taken toward me. I understood you received an anonymous61 letter, and that afternoon you called your loan with me. Since then I have heard from one source and another that you were strongly against me, and I merely wish to say that I wish you wouldn’t be. I am not guilty of embezzling62 any sixty thousand dollars, and you know it. My intentions were of the best. I did not think I was going to fail at the time I used those certificates, and if it hadn’t been for several other loans that were called I would have gone on to the end of the month and put them back in time, as I always had. I have always valued your friendship very highly, and I am very sorry to lose it. Now I have said all I am going to say.”
Butler looked at Cowperwood with shrewd, calculating eyes. The man had some merit, but much unconscionable evil in him. Butler knew very well how he had taken the check, and a good many other things in connection with it. The manner in which he had played his cards to-night was on a par14 with the way he had run to him on the night of the fire. He was just shrewd and calculating and heartless.
“I’ll make ye no promise,” he said. “Tell me where my daughter is, and I’ll think the matter over. Ye have no claim on me now, and I owe ye no good turn. But I’ll think it over, anyhow.”
“That’s quite all right,” replied Cowperwood. “That’s all I can expect. But what about Aileen? Do you expect her to leave Philadelphia?”
“Not if she settles down and behaves herself: but there must be an end of this between you and her. She’s disgracin’ her family and ruinin’ her soul in the bargain. And that’s what you are doin’ with yours. It’ll be time enough to talk about anything else when you’re a free man. More than that I’ll not promise.”
Cowperwood, satisfied that this move on Aileen’s part had done her a real service if it had not aided him especially, was convinced that it would be a good move for her to return to her home at once. He could not tell how his appeal to the State Supreme63 Court would eventuate. His motion for a new trial which was now to be made under the privilege of the certificate of reasonable doubt might not be granted, in which case he would have to serve a term in the penitentiary64. If he were compelled to go to the penitentiary she would be safer — better off in the bosom65 of her family. His own hands were going to be exceedingly full for the next two months until he knew how his appeal was coming out. And after that — well, after that he would fight on, whatever happened.
During all the time that Cowperwood had been arguing his case in this fashion he had been thinking how he could adjust this compromise so as to retain the affection of Aileen and not offend her sensibilities by urging her to return. He knew that she would not agree to give up seeing him, and he was not willing that she should. Unless he had a good and sufficient reason, he would be playing a wretched part by telling Butler where she was. He did not intend to do so until he saw exactly how to do it — the way that would make it most acceptable to Aileen. He knew that she would not long be happy where she was. Her flight was due in part to Butler’s intense opposition to himself and in part to his determination to make her leave Philadelphia and behave; but this last was now in part obviated66. Butler, in spite of his words, was no longer a stern Nemesis67. He was a melting man — very anxious to find his daughter, very willing to forgive her. He was whipped, literally68 beaten, at his own game, and Cowperwood could see it in the old man’s eyes. If he himself could talk to Aileen personally and explain just how things were, he felt sure he could make her see that it would be to their mutual69 advantage, for the present at least, to have the matter amicably settled. The thing to do was to make Butler wait somewhere — here, possibly — while he went and talked to her. When she learned how things were she would probably acquiesce70.
“The best thing that I can do under the circumstances,” he said, after a time, “would be to see Aileen in two or three days, and ask her what she wishes to do. I can explain the matter to her, and if she wants to go back, she can. I will promise to tell her anything that you say.”
“Two or three days!” exclaimed Butler, irritably71. “Two or three fiddlesticks! She must come home to-night. Her mother doesn’t know she’s left the place yet. To-night is the time! I’ll go and fetch her meself to-night.”
“No, that won’t do,” said Cowperwood. “I shall have to go myself. If you wish to wait here I will see what can be done, and let you know.”
“Very well,” grunted72 Butler, who was now walking up and down with his hands behind his back. “But for Heaven’s sake be quick about it. There’s no time to lose.” He was thinking of Mrs. Butler. Cowperwood called the servant, ordered his runabout, and told George to see that his private office was not disturbed. Then, as Butler strolled to and fro in this, to him, objectionable room, Cowperwood drove rapidly away.
收听单词发音 |
1
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
dictated
|
|
| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
refreshingly
|
|
| adv.清爽地，有精神地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
cuffs
|
|
| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
beads
|
|
| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
grimace
|
|
| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
queried
|
|
| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
genially
|
|
| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
par
|
|
| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
untoward
|
|
| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
contemplated
|
|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
lured
|
|
| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
crumpling
|
|
| 压皱，弄皱( crumple的现在分词 )； 变皱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
inhuman
|
|
| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
verge
|
|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
legitimately
|
|
| ad.合法地；正当地，合理地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
whatsoever
|
|
| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
personalities
|
|
| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
texture
|
|
| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
scapegoat
|
|
| n.替罪的羔羊，替人顶罪者；v.使…成为替罪羊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
alienated
|
|
| adj.感到孤独的，不合群的v.使疏远( alienate的过去式和过去分词 )；使不友好；转让；让渡（财产等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
placate
|
|
| v.抚慰，平息(愤怒) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
equanimity
|
|
| n.沉着，镇定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
relishing
|
|
| v.欣赏( relish的现在分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
suave
|
|
| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
bland
|
|
| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
ravening
|
|
| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
incarceration
|
|
| n.监禁，禁闭；钳闭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
amicably
|
|
| adv.友善地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
sarcastically
|
|
| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
justifies
|
|
| 证明…有理( justify的第三人称单数 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
contractor
|
|
| n.订约人，承包人，收缩肌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
embezzler
|
|
| n.盗用公款者，侵占公款犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
lawsuits
|
|
| n.诉讼( lawsuit的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
outraged
|
|
| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
revered
|
|
| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
decency
|
|
| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
villain
|
|
| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
anonymous
|
|
| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
embezzling
|
|
| v.贪污，盗用（公款）( embezzle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
penitentiary
|
|
| n.感化院；监狱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
obviated
|
|
| v.避免，消除（贫困、不方便等）( obviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
67
nemesis
|
|
| n.给以报应者，复仇者，难以对付的敌手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
acquiesce
|
|
| vi.默许，顺从，同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
irritably
|
|
| ad.易生气地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
grunted
|
|
| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |