So much mute communication was doubtless, all this time, marvellous, and we may confess to having perhaps read into the scene, prematurely1, a critical character that took longer to develop. Yet the quiet hour of reunion enjoyed that afternoon by the father and the daughter did really little else than deal with the elements definitely presented to each in the vibration2 produced by the return of the church-goers. Nothing allusive3, nothing at all insistent4, passed between them either before or immediately after luncheon6 — except indeed so far as their failure soon again to meet might be itself an accident charged with reference. The hour or two after luncheon — and on Sundays with especial rigour, for one of the domestic reasons of which it belonged to Maggie quite multitudinously to take account — were habitually7 spent by the Princess with her little boy, in whose apartment she either frequently found her father already established or was sooner or later joined by him. His visit to his grandson, at some hour or other, held its place, in his day, against all interventions8, and this without counting his grandson’s visits to HIM, scarcely less ordered and timed, and the odd bits, as he called them, that they picked up together when they could — communions snatched, for the most part, on the terrace, in the gardens or the park, while the Principino, with much pomp and circumstance of perambulator, parasol, fine lace over-veiling and incorruptible female attendance, took the air. In the private apartments, which, occupying in the great house the larger part of a wing of their own, were not much more easily accessible than if the place had been a royal palace and the small child an heir-apparent — in the nursery of nurseries the talk, at these instituted times, was always so prevailingly with or about the master of the scene that other interests and other topics had fairly learned to avoid the slighting and inadequate9 notice there taken of them. They came in, at the best, but as involved in the little boy’s future, his past, or his comprehensive present, never getting so much as a chance to plead their own merits or to complain of being neglected. Nothing perhaps, in truth, had done more than this united participation10 to confirm in the elder parties that sense of a life not only uninterrupted but more deeply associated, more largely combined, of which, on Adam Verver’s behalf, we have made some mention. It was of course an old story and a familiar idea that a beautiful baby could take its place as a new link between a wife and a husband, but Maggie and her father had, with every ingenuity11, converted the precious creature into a link between a mamma and a grandpapa. The Principino, for a chance spectator of this process, might have become, by an untoward12 stroke, a hapless half-orphan, with the place of immediate5 male parent swept bare and open to the next nearest sympathy.
They had no occasion thus, the conjoined worshippers, to talk of what the Prince might be or might do for his son — the sum of service, in his absence, so completely filled itself out. It was not in the least, moreover, that there was doubt of him, for he was conspicuously13 addicted14 to the manipulation of the child, in the frank Italian way, at such moments as he judged discreet15 in respect to other claims: conspicuously, indeed, that is, for Maggie, who had more occasion, on the whole, to speak to her husband of the extravagance of her father than to speak to her father of the extravagance of her husband. Adam Verver had, all round, in this connection, his own serenity16. He was sure of his son-inlaw’s auxiliary17 admiration18 — admiration, he meant, of his grand-son; since, to begin with, what else had been at work but the instinct — or it might fairly have been the tradition — of the latter’s making the child so solidly beautiful as to HAVE to be admired? What contributed most to harmony in this play of relations, however, was the way the young man seemed to leave it to be gathered that, tradition for tradition, the grandpapa’s own was not, in any estimate, to go for nothing. A tradition, or whatever it was, that had flowered prelusively in the Princess herself — well, Amerigo’s very discretions were his way of taking account of it. His discriminations in respect to his heir were, in fine, not more angular than any others to be observed in him; and Mr. Verver received perhaps from no source so distinct an impression of being for him an odd and important phenomenon as he received from this impunity20 of appropriation21, these unchallenged nursery hours. It was as if the grandpapa’s special show of the character were but another side for the observer to study, another item for him to note. It came back, this latter personage knew, to his own previous perception — that of the Prince’s inability, in any matter in which he was concerned, to CONCLUDE. The idiosyncrasy, for him, at each stage, had to be demonstrated — on which, however, he admirably accepted it. This last was, after all, the point; he really worked, poor young man, for acceptance, since he worked so constantly for comprehension. And how, when you came to that, COULD you know that a horse wouldn’t shy at a brass-band, in a country road, because it didn’t shy at a traction-engine? It might have been brought up to traction-engines without having been brought up to brass-bands. Little by little, thus, from month to month, the Prince was learning what his wife’s father had been brought up to; and now it could be checked off — he had been brought, up to the romantic view of principini. Who would have thought it, and where would it all stop? The only fear somewhat sharp for Mr. Verver was a certain fear of disappointing him for strangeness. He felt that the evidence he offered, thus viewed, was too much on the positive side. He didn’t know — he was learning, and it was funny for him — to how many things he HAD been brought up. If the Prince could only strike something to which he hadn’t! This wouldn’t, it seemed to him, ruffle22 the smoothness, and yet MIGHT, a little, add to the interest.
What was now clear, at all events, for the father and the daughter, was their simply knowing they wanted, for the time, to be together — at any cost, as it were; and their necessity so worked in them as to bear them out of the house, in a quarter hidden from that in which their friends were gathered, and cause them to wander, unseen, unfollowed, along a covered walk in the “old” garden, as it was called, old with an antiquity23 of formal things, high box and shaped yew24 and expanses of brick wall that had turned at once to purple and to pink. They went out of a door in the wall, a door that had a slab25 with a date set above it, 1713, but in the old multiplied lettering, and then had before them a small white gate, intensely white and clean amid all the greenness, through which they gradually passed to where some of the grandest trees spaciously26 clustered and where they would find one of the quietest places. A bench had been placed, long ago, beneath a great oak that helped to crown a mild eminence27, and the ground sank away below it, to rise again, opposite, at a distance sufficient to enclose the solitude28 and figure a bosky horizon. Summer, blissfully, was with them yet, and the low sun made a splash of light where it pierced the looser shade; Maggie, coming down to go out, had brought a parasol, which, as, over her charming bare head, she now handled it, gave, with the big straw hat that her father in these days always wore a good deal tipped back, definite intention to their walk. They knew the bench; it was “sequestered”— they had praised it for that together, before, and liked the word; and after they had begun to linger there they could have smiled (if they hadn’t been really too serious, and if the question hadn’t so soon ceased to matter), over the probable wonder of the others as to what would have become of them.
The extent to which they enjoyed their indifference29 to any judgment30 of their want of ceremony, what did that of itself speak but for the way that, as a rule, they almost equally had others on their mind? They each knew that both were full of the superstition31 of not “hurting,” but might precisely32 have been asking themselves, asking in fact each other, at this moment, whether that was to be, after all, the last word of their conscientious33 development. Certain it was, at all events, that, in addition to the Assinghams and the Lutches and Mrs. Rance, the attendance at tea, just in the right place on the west terrace, might perfectly34 comprise the four or five persons — among them the very pretty, the typically Irish Miss Maddock, vaunted, announced and now brought — from the couple of other houses near enough, one of these the minor35 residence Of their proprietor36, established, thriftily37, while he hired out his ancestral home, within sight and sense of his profit. It was not less certain, either, that, for once in a way, the group in question must all take the case as they found it. Fanny Assingham, at any time, for that matter, might perfectly be trusted to see Mr. Verver and his daughter, to see their reputation for a decent friendliness38, through any momentary39 danger; might be trusted even to carry off their absence for Amerigo, for Amerigo’s possible funny Italian anxiety; Amerigo always being, as the Princess was well aware, conveniently amenable40 to this friend’s explanations, beguilements, reassurances41, and perhaps in fact rather more than less dependent on them as his new life — since that was his own name for it — opened out. It was no secret to Maggie — it was indeed positively42 a public joke for her — that she couldn’t explain as Mrs. Assingham did, and that, the Prince liking43 explanations, liking them almost as if he collected them, in the manner of book-plates or postage-stamps, for themselves, his requisition of this luxury had to be met. He didn’t seem to want them as yet for use — rather for ornament44 and amusement, innocent amusement of the kind he most fancied and that was so characteristic of his blessed, beautiful, general, slightly indolent lack of more dissipated, or even just of more sophisticated, tastes.
However that might be, the dear woman had come to be frankly45 and gaily46 recognised — and not least by herself — as filling in the intimate little circle an office that was not always a sinecure47. It was almost as if she had taken, with her kind, melancholy48 Colonel at her heels, a responsible engagement; to be within call, as it were, for all those appeals that sprang out of talk, that sprang not a little, doubtless too, out of leisure. It naturally led her position in the household, as, she called it, to considerable frequency of presence, to visits, from the good couple, freely repeated and prolonged, and not so much as under form of protest. She was there to keep him quiet — it was Amerigo’s own description of her influence; and it would only have needed a more visible disposition49 to unrest in him to make the account perfectly fit. Fanny herself limited indeed, she minimised, her office; you didn’t need a jailor, she contended, for a domesticated50 lamb tied up with pink ribbon. This was not an animal to be controlled — it was an animal to be, at the most, educated. She admitted accordingly that she was educative — which Maggie was so aware that she herself, inevitably51, wasn’t; so it came round to being true that what she was most in charge of was his mere52 intelligence. This left, goodness knew, plenty of different calls for Maggie to meet — in a case in which so much pink ribbon, as it might be symbolically53 named, was lavished54 on the creature. What it all amounted to, at any rate, was that Mrs. Assingham would be keeping him quiet now, while his wife and his father-inlaw carried out their own little frugal55 picnic; quite moreover, doubtless, not much less neededly in respect to the members of the circle that were with them there than in respect to the pair they were missing almost for the first time. It was present to Maggie that the Prince could bear, when he was with his wife, almost any queerness on the part of people, strange English types, who bored him, beyond convenience, by being so little as he himself was; for this was one of the ways in which a wife was practically sustaining. But she was as positively aware that she hadn’t yet learned to see him as meeting such exposure in her absence. How did he move and talk, how above all did he, or how WOULD he, look — he who, with his so nobly handsome face, could look such wonderful things — in case of being left alone with some of the subjects of his wonder? There were subjects for wonder among these very neighbours; only Maggie herself had her own odd way — which didn’t moreover the least irritate him — of really liking them in proportion as they could strike her as strange. It came out in her by heredity, he amused himself with declaring, this love of chinoiseries; but she actually this evening didn’t mind — he might deal with her Chinese as he could.
Maggie indeed would always have had for such moments, had they oftener occurred, the impression made on her by a word of Mrs. Assingham’s, a word referring precisely to that appetite in Amerigo for the explanatory which we have just found in our path. It wasn’t that the Princess could be indebted to another person, even to so clever a one as this friend, for seeing anything in her husband that she mightn’t see unaided; but she had ever, hitherto, been of a nature to accept with modest gratitude56 any better description of a felt truth than her little limits — terribly marked, she knew, in the direction of saying the right things — enabled her to make. Thus it was, at any rate, that she was able to live more or less in the light of the fact expressed so lucidly57 by their common comforter — the fact that the Prince was saving up, for some very mysterious but very fine eventual58 purpose, all the wisdom, all the answers to his questions, all the impressions and generalisations, he gathered; putting them away and packing them down because he wanted his great gun to be loaded to the brim on the day he should decide to let it off. He wanted first to make sure of the whole of the subject that was unrolling itself before him; after which the innumerable facts he had collected would find their use. He knew what he was about —— trust him at last therefore to make, and to some effect, his big noise. And Mrs. Assingham had repeated that he knew what he was about. It was the happy form of this assurance that had remained with Maggie; it could always come in for her that Amerigo knew what he was about. He might at moments seem vague, seem absent, seem even bored: this when, away from her father, with whom it was impossible for him to appear anything but respectfully occupied, he let his native gaiety go in outbreaks of song, or even of quite whimsical senseless sound, either expressive59 of intimate relaxation60 or else fantastically plaintive61. He might at times reflect with the frankest lucidity62 on the circumstance that the case was for a good while yet absolutely settled in regard to what he still had left, at home, of his very own; in regard to the main seat of his affection, the house in Rome, the big black palace, the Palazzo Nero, as he was fond of naming it, and also on the question of the villa63 in the Sabine hills, which she had, at the time of their engagement, seen and yearned64 over, and the Castello proper, described by him always as the “perched” place, that had, as she knew, formerly65 stood up, on the pedestal of its mountain-slope, showing beautifully blue from afar, as the head and front of the princedom. He might rejoice in certain moods over the so long-estranged state of these properties, not indeed all irreclaimably alienated66, but encumbered67 with unending leases and charges, with obstinate68 occupants, with impossibilities of use — all without counting the cloud of mortgages that had, from far back, buried them beneath the ashes of rage and remorse69, a shroud70 as thick as the layer once resting on the towns at the foot of Vesuvius, and actually making of any present restorative effort a process much akin19 to slow excavation71. Just so he might with another turn of his humour almost wail72 for these brightest spots of his lost paradise, declaring that he was an idiot not to be able to bring himself to face the sacrifices — sacrifices resting, if definitely anywhere, with Mr. Verver — necessary for winning them back.
One of the most comfortable things between the husband and the wife meanwhile — one of those easy certitudes they could be merely gay about — was that she never admired him so much, or so found him heartbreakingly handsome, clever, irresistible73, in the very degree in which he had originally and fatally dawned upon her, as when she saw other women reduced to the same passive pulp74 that had then begun, once for all, to constitute HER substance. There was really nothing they had talked of together with more intimate and familiar pleasantry than of the license75 and privilege, the boundless76 happy margin77, thus established for each: she going so far as to put it that, even should he some day get drunk and beat her, the spectacle of him with hated rivals would, after no matter what extremity78, always, for the sovereign charm of it, charm of it in itself and as the exhibition of him that most deeply moved her, suffice to bring her round. What would therefore be more open to him than to keep her in love with him? He agreed, with all his heart, at these light moments, that his course wouldn’t then be difficult, inasmuch as, so simply constituted as he was on all the precious question — and why should he be ashamed of it?— he knew but one way with the fair. They had to be fair — and he was fastidious and particular, his standard was high; but when once this was the case what relation with them was conceivable, what relation was decent, rudimentary, properly human, but that of a plain interest in the fairness? His interest, she always answered, happened not to be “plain,” and plainness, all round, had little to do with the matter, which was marked, on the contrary, by the richest variety of colour; but the working basis, at all events, had been settled — the Miss Maddocks of life been assured of their importance for him. How conveniently assured Maggie — to take him too into the joke — had more than once gone so far as to mention to her father; since it fell in easily with the tenderness of her disposition to remember she might occasionally make him happy by an intimate confidence. This was one of her rules-full as she was of little rules, considerations, provisions. There were things she of course couldn’t tell him, in so many words, about Amerigo and herself, and about their happiness and their union and their deepest depths — and there were other things she needn’t; but there were also those that were both true and amusing, both communicable and real, and of these, with her so conscious, so delicately cultivated scheme of conduct as a daughter, she could make her profit at will. A pleasant hush79, for that matter, had fallen on most of the elements while she lingered apart with her companion; it involved, this serenity, innumerable complete assumptions: since so ordered and so splendid a rest, all the tokens, spreading about them, of confidence solidly supported, might have suggested for persons of poorer pitch the very insolence80 of facility. Still, they weren’t insolent81 — THEY weren’t, our pair could reflect; they were only blissful and grateful and personally modest, not ashamed of knowing, with competence82, when great things were great, when good things were good, and when safe things were safe, and not, therefore, placed below their fortune by timidity which would have been as bad as being below it by impudence83. Worthy84 of it as they were, and as each appears, under our last possible analysis, to have wished to make the other feel that they were, what they most finally exhaled85 into the evening air as their eyes mildly met may well have been a kind of helplessness in their felicity. Their rightness, the justification86 of everything — something they so felt the pulse of — sat there with them; but they might have been asking themselves a little blankly to what further use they could put anything so perfect. They had created and nursed and established it; they had housed it here in dignity and crowned it with comfort; but mightn’t the moment possibly count for them — or count at least for us while we watch them with their fate all before them — as the dawn of the discovery that it doesn’t always meet ALL contingencies87 to be right? Otherwise why should Maggie have found a word of definite doubt — the expression of the fine pang88 determined89 in her a few hours before — rise after a time to her lips? She took so for granted moreover her companion’s intelligence of her doubt that the mere vagueness of her question could say it all. “What is it, after all, that they want to do to you?” “They” were for the Princess too the hovering90 forces of which Mrs. Rance was the symbol, and her father, only smiling back now, at his ease, took no trouble to appear not to know what she meant. What she meant — when once she had spoken — could come out well enough; though indeed it was nothing, after they had come to the point, that could serve as ground for a great defensive91 campaign. The waters of talk spread a little, and Maggie presently contributed an idea in saying: “What has really happened is that the proportions, for us, are altered.” He accepted equally, for the time, this somewhat cryptic92 remark; he still failed to challenge her even when she added that it wouldn’t so much matter if he hadn’t been so terribly young. He uttered a sound of protest only when she went to declare that she ought as a daughter, in common decency93, to have waited. Yet by that time she was already herself admitting that she should have had to wait long — if she waited, that is, till he was old. But there was a way. “Since you ARE an irresistible youth, we’ve got to face it. That, somehow, is what that woman has made me feel. There’ll be others.”
收听单词发音 |
1
prematurely
|
|
| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
vibration
|
|
| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
allusive
|
|
| adj.暗示的；引用典故的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
insistent
|
|
| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
habitually
|
|
| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
interventions
|
|
| n.介入，干涉，干预( intervention的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
inadequate
|
|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
participation
|
|
| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
ingenuity
|
|
| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
untoward
|
|
| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
conspicuously
|
|
| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
addicted
|
|
| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
serenity
|
|
| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
auxiliary
|
|
| adj.辅助的，备用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
akin
|
|
| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
impunity
|
|
| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
appropriation
|
|
| n.拨款，批准支出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
ruffle
|
|
| v.弄皱，弄乱；激怒，扰乱；n.褶裥饰边 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
antiquity
|
|
| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
yew
|
|
| n.紫杉属树木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
spaciously
|
|
| adv.宽敞地；广博地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
conscientious
|
|
| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
proprietor
|
|
| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
thriftily
|
|
| 节俭地； 繁茂地； 繁荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
friendliness
|
|
| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
amenable
|
|
| adj.经得起检验的；顺从的；对负有义务的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
reassurances
|
|
| n.消除恐惧或疑虑( reassurance的名词复数 )；恢复信心；使人消除恐惧或疑虑的事物；使人恢复信心的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
ornament
|
|
| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
gaily
|
|
| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sinecure
|
|
| n.闲差事，挂名职务 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
domesticated
|
|
| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
symbolically
|
|
| ad.象征地，象征性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
lavished
|
|
| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
frugal
|
|
| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
lucidly
|
|
| adv.清透地，透明地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
eventual
|
|
| adj.最后的，结局的，最终的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
relaxation
|
|
| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
plaintive
|
|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
lucidity
|
|
| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
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： |
|
|
|
|
67
encumbered
|
|
| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
obstinate
|
|
| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
shroud
|
|
| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
excavation
|
|
| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
wail
|
|
| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pulp
|
|
| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
license
|
|
| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
boundless
|
|
| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
insolence
|
|
| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
insolent
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
competence
|
|
| n.能力，胜任，称职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
impudence
|
|
| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
exhaled
|
|
| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
justification
|
|
| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
contingencies
|
|
| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
hovering
|
|
| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
defensive
|
|
| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
cryptic
|
|
| adj.秘密的，神秘的，含义模糊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
decency
|
|
| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |