On the whole the party at Chaldicotes was very pleasant and the time passed away quickly enough. Mr Robarts’s chief friend there, independently of Mr Sowerby, was Miss Dunstable, who seemed to take a great fancy to him, whereas she was not very accessible to the blandishments of Mr Supplehouse, nor more especially courteous2 to her host than good manners required of her. But then Mr Supplehouse and Mr Sowerby were both bachelors, while Mark Robarts was a married man. With Mr Sowerby Robarts had more than one communication respecting Lord Lufton and his affairs, which he would willingly have avoided had it been possible. Sowerby was one of those men who are always mixing up business with pleasure, and who have usually some scheme in their mind which requires forwarding. Men of this class have, as a rule, no daily work, no regular routine of labour; but it may be doubted whether they do not toil3 much more incessantly4 than those who have.
‘Lufton is so dilatory,’ Mr Sowerby said. ‘Why did he not arrange this at once, when he promised it? And then he is afraid of that old woman at Framley Court. Well, my dear fellow, say what you will; she is an old woman, and she’ll never be younger. But do write to Lufton, and tell him that this delay is inconvenient5 to me; he’ll do anything for you, I know.’ Mark said that he would write, and, indeed, he did so; but he did not at first like the tone of the conversation into which he was dragged. It was very painful to him to hear Lady Lufton called an old woman, and hardly less so to discuss the propriety6 of Lord Lufton’s parting with his property. This was irksome to him, till habit made it easy. But by degrees his feelings became less acute, and he accustomed himself to his friend Sowerby’s mode of talking.
And then on Saturday they went over to Barchester. Harold Smith during the last forty-eight hours had become crammed7 to overflowing8 with Sarawak, Labuan, New Guinea, and the Salomon Islands. As is the case with all men labouring under temporary specialities, he for the time had faith in nothing else, and was not content that any one near him should have any other faith. They called him Viscount Papua and Baron9 Borneo; and his wife, who headed the joke against him, insisted on having her title. Miss Dunstable swore that she would wed10 none but a South Sea Islander; and to Mark was offered the income and duties of Bishop11 of Spices. Nor did the Proudie family set themselves against these little sarcastic12 quips with any overwhelming severity. It is sweet to unbend oneself at the proper opportunity, and this was the proper opportunity for Mrs Proudie’s unbending. No mortal can be seriously wise at all hours; and in these happy hours did that usually wise mortal, the bishop, lay aside for awhile his serious wisdom.
‘We think of dining at five tomorrow, my Lady Papua,’ said the facetious13 bishop; ‘will that suit his lordship and the affairs of state? he, he, he!’ And the good prelate laughed at the fun. How pleasantly young men and women of fifty or thereabouts can joke and flirt14 and poke15 their fun about, laughing and holding their sides, dealing16 in little innuendoes17 and rejoicing in nicknames, when they have no Mentors19 of twenty-five or thirty years near them to keep them in order! The vicar of Framley might perhaps have been regarded as such a Mentor18, were it not for that capability20 of adapting himself to the company immediately around him on which he so much piqued21 himself. He therefore also talked to my Lady Papua, and was jocose22 about the Baron — not altogether to the satisfaction of Mr Harold Smith himself. For Mr Harold Smith was in earnest, and did not quite relish23 these jocundities. He had an idea that he could in about three minutes talk the British world into civilizing24 New Guinea, and that the world of Barsetshire would be made to go with him by one night’s efforts. He did not understand why others should be less serious, and was inclined to resent somewhat stiffly the amenities25 of our friend Mark.
‘We must not keep the Baron waiting,’ said Mark, as they were preparing to start for Barchester.
‘I don’t know what you mean by the Baron, sir,’ said Harold Smith. ‘But perhaps the joke will be against you, when you are getting up in your pulpit tomorrow, and sending the hat round among the clod-hoppers of Chaldicotes.’
‘Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, eh, Baron?’ said Miss Dunstable. ‘Mr Robarts’s sermon will be too near akin26 to your lecture to allow of his laughing.’
‘If we can do nothing towards instructing the outer world till it’s done by the parsons,’ said Harold Smith, ‘the outer world will have to wait a long time, I fear.’
‘Nobody can do anything of that kind short of a member of Parliament and would-be minister,’ whispered Mrs Harold. And so they were all very pleasant together, in spite of a little fencing with edge-tools, and at three o’clock the cortege of carriages started for Barchester, that of the bishop, of course, leading the way. His lordship, however, was not in it.
‘Mrs Proudie, I’m sure you’ll let me go with you,’ said Miss Dunstable, at the last moment, as she came down the big stone steps. ‘I want to hear the rest of that story about Mr Slope.’ Now this upset everything. The bishop was to have gone with his wife, Mrs Smith, and Mark Robarts; and Mr Sowerby had so arranged matters that he could have accompanied Miss Dunstable in his phaeton. But no one ever dreamed of denying Miss Dunstable anything. Of course Mark gave way; but it ended in the bishop declaring that he had no special predilection27 for his own carriage, which he did in compliance28 with a glance from his wife’s eye. Then other changes of course followed, and, at last, Mr Sowerby and Harold Smith were the joint29 occupants of the phaeton. The poor lecturer, as he seated himself made some remark such as those he had been making for the last two days — for out of a full heart the mouth speaketh. But he spoke30 to an impatient listener. ‘D— the South Sea Islanders,’ said Mr Sowerby. ‘You’ll have it all your own way in a few moments, like a bull in a china-shop; but for Heaven’s sake let us have a little peace till that time comes.’ It appeared that Mr Sowerby’s little plan of having Miss Dunstable for his companion was not quite insignificant31; and, indeed, it may be said that but few of his little plans were so. At the present moment he flung himself back in the carriage and prepared for sleep. He could further no plan of his by a tete-a-tete conversation with his brother-inlaw. And then Mrs Proudie began her story about Mr Slope, or rather recommenced it. She was very fond of talking about this gentleman, who had once been her pet chaplain, but was now her bitterest foe32; and in telling her story, she had sometimes to whisper to Miss Dunstable, for there were one or two fie-fie little anecdotes33 about a married lady, not altogether fit for young Mr Robarts’s ears. But Mrs Harold Smith insisted on having them out loud, and Miss Dunstable would gratify that lady in spite of Mrs Proudie’s winks34.
‘What, kissing her hand, and he a clergyman!’ said Miss Dunstable. ‘I did not think they ever did such things, Mr Robarts.’
‘Still waters run deep,’ said Mrs Harold Smith.
‘Hush-h-h,’ looked, rather than spoke, Mrs Proudie. ‘The grief of spirit which that bad man caused me nearly broke my heart, and all the while, you know, he was courting —’ and then Mrs Proudie whispered a name.
‘What, the dean’s wife?’ shouted Miss Dunstable, in a voice which made the coachman in the next carriage give a chuck to his horse as he overheard her.
‘The archdeacon’s sister-inlaw!’ screamed Mrs Harold Smith.
‘What might he have not attempted next?’ said Miss Dunstable.
‘She wasn’t the dean’s wife then, you know,’ said Mrs Proudie, explaining.
‘Well, you are a gay set in the chapter, I must say,’ said Miss Dunstable. ‘You ought to make one of them in Barchester, Mr Robarts.’
‘Only perhaps Mrs Robarts might not like it,’ said Mrs Harold Smith.
‘And then the schemes which he tried on with the bishop!’ said Mrs Proudie.
‘It’s all fair in love and war, you know,’ said Miss Dunstable.
‘But he little knew whom he had to deal with when he began that,’ said Mrs Proudie.
‘The bishop was too many for him,’ suggested Mrs Harold Smith, very maliciously35.
‘The bishop was not, somebody else was; and he was obliged to leave Barchester in utter disgrace. He has since married the wife of some tallow-chandler.’
‘The wife!’ said Miss Dunstable. ‘What a man!’
‘The widow, I mean; but it’s all one to him.’
‘The gentleman was clearly born when Venus was in the ascendant,’ said Mrs Smith. ‘You clergymen usually are, I believe, Mr Robarts.’ So that Mrs Proudie’s carriage was by no means the dullest as they drove into Barchester that day; and by degrees our friend Mark became accustomed to his companions, and before they reached the palace he acknowledged to himself that Miss Dunstable was very good fun. We cannot linger over the bishop’s dinner, though it was very good of its kind; and as Mr Sowerby contrived36 to sit next to Miss Dunstable, thereby37 overturning a little scheme made by Mr Supplehouse, he again shone forth38 in unclouded good humour. But Mr Harold Smith became impatient immediately on the withdrawal39 of the cloth. The lecture was to begin at seven, and according to his watch that hour had already come. He declared that Sowerby and Supplehouse were endeavouring to delay matters in order that the Barchesterians might become vexed40 and impatient; and so the bishop was not allowed to exercise his hospitality in true episcopal fashion.
‘You forget, Sowerby,’ said Supplehouse, ‘that the world here for the last fortnight has been looking forward to nothing else.’
‘The world shall be gratified at once,’ said Mrs Harold, obeying a little nod from Mrs Proudie. ‘Come, my dear,’ and she took hold of Miss Dunstable’s arm, ‘don’t let us keep Barchester waiting. We shall be ready in a quarter of an hour, shall we not, Mrs Proudie?’ and so they sailed off.
‘And we shall have time for one glass of claret, said the bishop.
‘There; that’s seven by the cathedral,’ said Harold Smith, jumping up from his chair as he heard the clock. ‘If the people have come it would not be right in me to keep them waiting, and I shall go.’
‘Just one glass of claret, Mr Smith, and we’ll be off,’ said the bishop.
‘Those women will keep me half an hour,’ said Harold, filling his glass, and drinking it standing41. ‘They do it on purpose.’
It was rather late when they all found themselves in the big room of the Mechanic’s Institute; but I do not know whether this on the whole did any harm. Most of Mr Smith’s hearers, excepting the party from the palace, were Barchester tradesmen with their wives and families; and they waited, not impatiently, for the big people. And then the lecture was gratis42, a fact which is always borne in mind by an Englishman, when he comes to reckon up and calculate the way in which he is treated. When he pays his money, then he takes his choice; he may be impatient or not as he likes. His sense of justice teaches him so much, and in accordance with that sense he usually acts. So the people on the benches rose graciously when the palace party entered the room. Seats for them had been kept in the front. There were three arm-chairs, which were filled, after some little hesitation43, by the bishop, Mrs Proudie, and Miss Dunstable — Mrs Smith positively44 declining to take one of them; though, as she admitted, her rank as Lady Papua of the islands did give her some claim. And this remark, as it was made quite out loud, reached Mr Smith’s ears as he stood behind a little table on a small raised dais, holding his white kid gloves; and it annoyed him and rather put him out. He did not like that joke about Lady Papua. And then the others of the party sat upon a front bench covered with red cloth. ‘We shall find this very hard and very narrow about the second hour,’ said Mr Sowerby, and Mr Smith on his dais again overheard the words, and dashed his gloves down to the table. He felt that all the room would hear it.
And there were one or two gentlemen on the second seat who shook hands with some of our party. There was Mr Thorne of Ullathorne, a good-natured old bachelor, whose residence was near enough to Barchester to allow of his coming in without much personal inconvenience; and next to him was Mr Harding, an old clergyman of the chapter, with whom Mrs Proudie shook hands very graciously, making way for him to seat himself close behind her if he would so please. But Mr Harding did not so please. Having paid his respects to the bishop he returned quietly to the side of his old friend Mr Thorne, thereby angering Mrs Proudie, as might easily be seen by her face. And Mr Chadwick also was there, the episcopal man of business for the diocese; but he also adhered to the two gentlemen above named. And now that the bishop and the ladies had taken their place, Mr Harold Smith hummed three times distinctly, and then began.
‘It was,’ he said, ‘the most peculiar45 characteristic of the present era in the British islands that those who were high placed before the world in rank, wealth, and education were willing to come forward and give their time and knowledge without fee or reward, for the advantage and amelioration of those who did not stand so high in the social scale.’ And then he paused for a moment, during which Mrs Smith remarked to Miss Dunstable that that was pretty well for a beginning; and Miss Dunstable replied, ‘that as for herself she felt very grateful to rank, wealth and education.’ Mr Sowerby winked46 to Mr Supplehouse, who opened his eyes very wide and shrugged47 his shoulders. But the Barchesterians took it all in good part and gave the lecturer the applause of their hands and feet. And then, well pleased, he recommenced —‘I do not make these remarks with reference to myself —’
‘I hope he’s not going to be modest,’ said Miss Dunstable.
‘It will be quite new if he is,’ replied Mrs Smith.
‘— so much as to many noble and talented lords and members of the Lower House who have lately from time to time devoted48 themselves to this good work.’ And then he went through a long list of peers and members of Parliament, beginning, of course, with Lord Boanerges, and ending with Mr Green Walker, a young gentleman who had lately been returned by his uncle’s interference for the borough49 of Crewe Junction50, and had immediately made his entrance into public life by giving a lecture on the grammarians of the Latin language as exemplified at Eton School. ‘On the present occasion,’ Mr Smith continued, ‘our object is to learn something as to those grand and magnificent islands which lie far away, beyond the Indies, in the Southern Ocean; the lands of which produce rich spices and glorious fruits, and whose seas are embedded51 with pearls and corals — Papua and the Philippines, Borneo and the Moluccas. My friends, you are familiar with your maps, and you know the track which the equator makes for itself through those distant oceans.’ And then many heads were turned down, and there was a rustle52 of leaves; for not a few of those ‘who stood not so high in the social scale’ had brought their maps with them, and refreshed their memories as to the whereabouts of those wondrous53 islands.
And then Mr Smith also, with a map in his hand, and pointing occasionally to another large map which hung against the wall, went into the geography of the matter. ‘We might have found that out from our atlases54, I think, without coming all the way to Barchester,’ said that unsympathetic helpmate Mrs Harold, very cruelly — most illogically too, for there be so many things which we could find out ourselves by search, but which we never do find out unless they be specially1 told to us; and why should not this latitude55 and longitude56 of Labuan be one — or rather two of these things? And then, when he had duly marked the path of the line through Borneo, Celebes, and Gilolo, through the Macassar Strait and the Molucca passage, Mr Harold Smith rose to a higher flight. ‘But what,’ said he, ‘avails all that God can give to man, unless man will open his hand to receive the gift? And what is this opening of the hand but the process of civilization — yes, my friends, the process of civilization? These South Sea islanders have all that a kind Providence57 can bestow58 on them; but that all is as nothing without education. That education and that civilization it is for you to bestow upon them — yes, my friends, for you; for you, citizens of Barchester as you are.’ And then he paused again, in order that the feet and hands might go to work. The feet and hands did go to work, during which Mr Smith took a slight drink of water. He was now quite in his element, and had got into the proper way of punching the table with his fists. A few words dropping from Mr Sowerby did now and again find their way to his ears, but the sound of his own voice had brought with it the accustomed charm, and he ran on from platitude59 to truism, and from truism back to platitude, with an eloquence60 that was charming to himself.
‘Civilization,’ he exclaimed, lifting his eyes and his hands to the ceiling. ‘O Civilization —’
‘There will not be a chance for us now for the next hour and a half,’ said Mr Supplehouse, groaning61. Harold Smith cast one eye down at him, but it immediately flew back to the ceiling.
‘O Civilization! Thou that ennoblest mankind and makest him equal to the gods, what is like unto thee?’ Here Mrs Proudie showed evident signs of disapprobation, which, no doubt would have been shared by the bishop, had not that worthy62 prelate been asleep. But Mr Smith continued unobservant; or at any rate, regardless. ‘What is like unto thee? Thou art the irrigating63 stream which makest fertile the barren plain. Till thou comest all is dark and dreary64; but at thy advent65 the noontide sun shines out, the earth gives forth her increase; the deep bowels66 of the rocks render up their tribute. Forms which were dull and hideous67 become endowed with grace and beauty, and vegetable existence rises to the scale of celestial68 life. Then, too, Genius appears clad in a panoply69 of translucent70 armour71, grasping in his hand the whole terrestrial surface, and making every rood of earth subservient72 to his purposes;— Genius, the child of Civilization, the mother of the Arts!’ The last little bit, taken from the ‘Pedigree of Progress’, had a great success, and all Barchester went to work with its hands and feet;— all Barchester, except that ill-natured aristocratic front row together with the three arm-chairs at the corner of it. The aristocratic front row now felt itself to be too intimate with civilization to care much about it; and the three arm-chairs, or rather that special one which contained Mrs Proudie, considered that there was a certain heathenness, a papism sentimentality almost amounting to infidelity, contained in the lecturer’s remarks, with which she, a pillar of the Church, could not put up, seated as she was now in public conclave73.
‘It is to civilization that we must look,’ continued Mr Harold Smith, descending74 from poetry to prose as a lecturer well knows how, and thereby showing the value of both —‘for any material progress in these islands; and —’
‘And to Christianity,’ shouted Mrs Proudie, to the great amazement75 of the assembled people, and to the thorough wakening of the bishop, who, jumping up in his chair at the sound of the well-known voice, exclaimed, ‘Certainly, certainly.’
‘Hear, hear, hear,’ said those on the benches who particularly belonged to Mrs Proudie’s school of divinity in the city, and among the voices was distinctly heard that of a new verger in whose behalf she had greatly interested herself.
‘Oh, yes Christianity, of course,’ said Harold Smith, upon whom the interruption did not seem to have operated favourably76.
‘Christianity and Sabbath-day observation,’ exclaimed Mrs Proudie, who, now that she had obtained the ear of the public, seemed well inclined to keep it. ‘Let us never forget that these islanders can never prosper77 unless they keep the Sabbath holy.’ Poor Mr Smith, having been so rudely dragged from his high horse, was never able to mount it again, and completed the lecture in a manner not at all comfortable to himself. He had there, on the table before him, a huge bundle of statistics, with which he had meant to convince the reason of his hearers, after he had taken full possession of their feelings. But they fell very dull and flat. And at the moment when he was interrupted, he was about to explain that that material progress to which he had alluded78 could not be attained79 without money; and that it behoved them, the people of Barchester before him, to come forward with their purses like men and brothers. He did also attempt this; but from the moment of that fatal onslaught from the arm-chair, it was clear to him, and to every one else, that Mrs Proudie was now the hero of the hour. His time had gone by, and the people of Barchester did not care a straw for his appeal. From these causes the lecture was over a full twenty minutes earlier than any one had expected, to the great delight of Messrs Sowerby and Supplehouse, who, on that evening, moved and carried a vote of thanks to Mrs Proudie. For they had gay doings yet before they went to their beds.
‘Robarts, here one moment,’ Mr Sowerby said, as they were standing at the door of the Mechanic’s Institute. Don’t go off with Mr and Mrs Bishop. We are going to have a little supper at the Dragon of Wantly, and, after what we have gone through, upon my word, we want it. You can tell one of the palace servants to let you in.’ Mark considered the proposal wistfully. He would fain have joined the supper party had he dared, but he, like many others of his cloth, had the fear of Mrs Proudie before his eyes. And a very merry supper they had; but poor Mr Harold Smith was not the merriest of the party.
1 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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2 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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3 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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4 incessantly | |
ad.不停地 | |
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5 inconvenient | |
adj.不方便的,令人感到麻烦的 | |
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6 propriety | |
n.正当行为;正当;适当 | |
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7 crammed | |
adj.塞满的,挤满的;大口地吃;快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满;填入;临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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8 overflowing | |
n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的,充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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9 baron | |
n.男爵;(商业界等)巨头,大王 | |
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10 wed | |
v.娶,嫁,与…结婚 | |
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11 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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12 sarcastic | |
adj.讥讽的,讽刺的,嘲弄的 | |
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13 facetious | |
adj.轻浮的,好开玩笑的 | |
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14 flirt | |
v.调情,挑逗,调戏;n.调情者,卖俏者 | |
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15 poke | |
n.刺,戳,袋;vt.拨开,刺,戳;vi.戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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16 dealing | |
n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
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17 innuendoes | |
n.影射的话( innuendo的名词复数 );讽刺的话;含沙射影;暗讽 | |
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18 mentor | |
n.指导者,良师益友;v.指导 | |
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19 mentors | |
n.(无经验之人的)有经验可信赖的顾问( mentor的名词复数 )v.(无经验之人的)有经验可信赖的顾问( mentor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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20 capability | |
n.能力;才能;(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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21 piqued | |
v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 );激起(好奇心) | |
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22 jocose | |
adj.开玩笑的,滑稽的 | |
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23 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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24 civilizing | |
v.使文明,使开化( civilize的现在分词 ) | |
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25 amenities | |
n.令人愉快的事物;礼仪;礼节;便利设施;礼仪( amenity的名词复数 );便利设施;(环境等的)舒适;(性情等的)愉快 | |
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26 akin | |
adj.同族的,类似的 | |
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27 predilection | |
n.偏好 | |
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28 compliance | |
n.顺从;服从;附和;屈从 | |
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29 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
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30 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 | |
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31 insignificant | |
adj.无关紧要的,可忽略的,无意义的 | |
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32 foe | |
n.敌人,仇敌 | |
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33 anecdotes | |
n.掌故,趣闻,轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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34 winks | |
v.使眼色( wink的第三人称单数 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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35 maliciously | |
adv.有敌意地 | |
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36 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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37 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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38 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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39 withdrawal | |
n.取回,提款;撤退,撤军;收回,撤销 | |
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40 vexed | |
adj.争论不休的;(指问题等)棘手的;争论不休的问题;烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 );使苦恼;使生气;详细讨论 | |
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41 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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42 gratis | |
adj.免费的 | |
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43 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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44 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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45 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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46 winked | |
v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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47 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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48 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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49 borough | |
n.享有自治权的市镇;(英)自治市镇 | |
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50 junction | |
n.连接,接合;交叉点,接合处,枢纽站 | |
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51 embedded | |
a.扎牢的 | |
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52 rustle | |
v.沙沙作响;偷盗(牛、马等);n.沙沙声声 | |
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53 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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54 atlases | |
地图集( atlas的名词复数 ) | |
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55 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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56 longitude | |
n.经线,经度 | |
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57 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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58 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
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59 platitude | |
n.老生常谈,陈词滥调 | |
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60 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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61 groaning | |
adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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62 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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63 irrigating | |
灌溉( irrigate的现在分词 ); 冲洗(伤口) | |
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64 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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65 advent | |
n.(重要事件等的)到来,来临 | |
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66 bowels | |
n.肠,内脏,内部;肠( bowel的名词复数 );内部,最深处 | |
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67 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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68 celestial | |
adj.天体的;天上的 | |
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69 panoply | |
n.全副甲胄,礼服 | |
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70 translucent | |
adj.半透明的;透明的 | |
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71 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
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72 subservient | |
adj.卑屈的,阿谀的 | |
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73 conclave | |
n.秘密会议,红衣主教团 | |
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74 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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75 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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76 favourably | |
adv. 善意地,赞成地 =favorably | |
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77 prosper | |
v.成功,兴隆,昌盛;使成功,使昌隆,繁荣 | |
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78 alluded | |
提及,暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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