Two cases were summarily dealt with, and then Lamont was brought into court. He looked ill, but was perfectly collected. He even acknowledged the inspector’s presence with a slight smile. His arrival created a stir in the public part of the court. There had been no press warning that the case would be dealt with there today, and all those present were either curious idlers or friends of principles in other cases. Grant had looked for Mrs. Everett, but she was not there. Lamont’s sole friend in court seemed to be the paid one who had charge of his interests. Nevertheless, Grant looked again now for a sign of personal interest on any face. He had found before now that useful information can be obtained from the expressions of presumed strangers in the body of a court. But a careful scrutiny13 revealed nothing; nothing but curiosity was apparent on any countenance in the audience. But as he left the box, after giving his evidence, he saw a newcomer at the back of the court, and the newcomer was Miss Dinmont. Now Miss Dinmont’s holiday did not finish for a week yet, and she had said at that fateful manse tea that since she had holidays only once a year she spent them all at home; and as he sat down Inspector Grant was marvel-ling at the girl who would not soften14 towards a man she believed to be guilty of a terrible thing, but who would cut short her holiday and travel five hundred miles to hear the evidence for herself. Lamont had his back to her, and it was unlikely, unless he deliberately16 looked round the room as he went out, that he would be aware of her presence. She caught the inspector’s eye upon her, and bowed to him, unperturbed. In her neat, dark tailor-made and small hat she looked the complete, self-possessed, charming woman of the world. She might have been a writer looking for copy, for all the emotion she showed. Even when Lamont was remanded and led out of court, her good-looking face was not stirred. They were very alike, aunt and niece, Grant thought; that was probably why they did not like each other. He went up to her as she was leaving and greeted her.
“Are you doing anything, Miss Dinmont? Come and have lunch with me, will you?”
“I thought inspectors17 lived on tablets of condensed beef extract, or something like that, during the day. Do they really have time to sit down to a meal?”
“Not only that, but they have a very good one. Come and see!” And she smiled and came.
He took her to Laurent’s, and over the meal she was quite frank about her change of plans. “I couldn’t stay in Carninnish after what happened,” she said. “And I had an itch18 to hear the court proceedings19, so I just came. I have never been in a court of law in my life before. It isn’t an impressive spectacle.”
“Not a police court, perhaps,” he admitted; “but wait till you see a big trial.”
“I hope I never shall — but it seems that I’m going to. You have a beautiful case, haven’t you?”
“That is the word my chief uses about it.”
“And don’t you agree?” she asked quickly.
“Oh, yes, certainly.” To admit to Mrs. Everett that he was not satisfied was one thing, but he was not going to blazon20 it abroad. And this independent girl was certainly “abroad.”
Presently she mentioned Lamont directly. “He looks bad,” she said judicially21, using “bad” in her professional sense. “Will they look after him in prison?”
“Oh, yes,” said Grant; “they take very good care of them.”
“Is there any chance of their badgering him? Because I warn you he won’t stand any badgering as he is now. Either he’ll be seriously ill or he’ll say that he did it.”
“Then you don’t believe he did?”
“I think it’s unlikely, but I’m quite aware that the fact that I think so doesn’t make it so. I just want him to get a fair deal.”
Grant remarked on her matter-of-fact acceptance of his word at Carninnish as to the man’s guilt15.
“Well,” she said, “you knew much more about it than I did. I never saw him till three days previously22. I liked him — but that didn’t make him guilty or innocent. Besides, I’d rather be a brute23 than a fool.”
Grant considered this unfeminine pronouncement in silence, and she repeated her question.
“Oh, no,” Grant said; “this isn’t America. And in any case, he has made his statement, as you heard, and he is not likely to change his mind or make another.”
“Has he any friends?”
“Only your aunt, Mrs. Everett.”
“And who will pay for his defence?”
Grant explained.
“Then he can’t have any of the good ones. That doesn’t seem to me particularly fair — for the law to keep famous lawyers to do their prosecuting24 and not famous lawyers to defend poor criminals.”
Grant grinned. “Oh, he’ll have a fair deal, don’t you worry. It is the police who are harried25 round in a murder case.”
“Did you never, in all your experience, know a case where the law made a mistake?”
“Yes, several,” Grant admitted cheerfully. “But they were all cases of mistaken identity. And that’s not in question here.”
“No; but there must be cases where the evidence is nothing but a lot of things that have nothing to do with each other put together until they look like something. Like a patchwork26 bedcover.”
She was getting too “hot” to be comfortable in her search after enlightenment, and Grant reassured27 her and unostentatiously changed the subject — and presently fell silent; a sudden idea had occurred to him. If he went down to Eastbourne alone, Mrs. Ratcliffe, however casual his appearance, might be suspicious of his bona fides. But if he appeared with a woman companion he would be accepted at once as off duty, and any suspicion his presence might arouse would be lulled28 until he could get Mrs. Ratcliffe completely off her guard. And the whole success of the expedition depended on that — that she should be unprepared for any demonstration29 on his part.
“Look here,” he said, “are you doing anything this afternoon?”
“No; why?”
“Have you done your good deed for the day?”
“No, I think I’ve been entirely30 selfish today.”
“Well, get it off your chest by coming down to Eastbourne with me this afternoon as my cousin, and being my cousin till dinner. Will you?”
She considered him gravely. “I don’t think so. Are you on the track of some other unhappy person?”
“Not exactly. I’m on the track of something, I think.”
“I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “If it were just fun, I’d do it like a shot. But when it means something I don’t know for someone I’ve never met — you see?”
“I say, I can’t tell you about it, but if I give you my word that you’ll never regret it, will you believe me and come?”
“But why should I believe you?” she said sweetly.
The inspector was rather staggered. He had commended her lack of faith in Lamont, but her logical application of it to himself disconcerted him.
“I don’t know why,” he admitted. “I suppose police officers are just as capable of fibbing as any one.”
“And considerably31 more unscrupulous than most,” she added dryly.
“Well, it’s just a matter for your own decision, then. You won’t regret coming. I’ll swear to that, if you like — and police officers are not given to perjury32, however unscrupulous they may be.”
She laughed. “That got you, didn’t it?” she said delightedly. And after a pause, “Yes, I’ll come and be your cousin with pleasure. None of my cousins are half as good-looking.” But the mockery in her tone was too apparent for Grant to find much pleasure in the compliment.
They went down through the green countryside to the sea, however, in perfect amity33, and when Grant looked up suddenly and saw the downs he was surprised. There they stood in possession of the landscape, like some one who has tiptoed into a room unheard, and startles the occupant by appearing in the middle of the floor. He had never known a journey to the south coast pass so quickly. They were alone in the compartment34, and he proceeded to give her her bearings.
“I am staying down at Eastbourne — no, I can’t be, I’m not dressed for the part — we’ve both come down for the afternoon, then. I am going to get into conversation with two women who know me already in my professional capacity. When the talk turns on hat brooches I want you to produce this from your bag, and say that you have just bought it for your sister. Your name, by the way, is Eleanor Raymond, and your sister’s is Mary. That is all. Just leave the brooch lying round until I arrange my tie. That will be the signal that I have had all I want.”
“All right. What is your first name, by the way?”
“Alan.”
“All right, Alan. I nearly forgot to ask you that. It would have been a joke if I had not known my cousin’s name! . . . It’s a queer world, isn’t it? Look at those primroses35 in the sun and think of all the people in terrible trouble this minute.”
“No, don’t. That way madness lies. Think of the pleasantly deserted36 beach we’re going to see in a few minutes.”
“Do you ever go to the Old Vic?” she asked, and they were still telling each other how wonderful Miss Baylis was when they ran into the station; and Grant said, “Come on, Eleanor,” and, grabbing her by the arm, picked her from the carriage like a small boy, impatient to try a spade on the sands.
The beach, as Grant had prophesied37, was in that pleasantly deserted condition that makes the south-coast resorts so attractive out of the season. It was sunny and very warm, and a few groups lay about on the shingle38, basking39 in the sun in an aristocratic isolation40 unknown to summer visitors.
“We’ll go along the front and come back along the beach,” Grant said. “They are bound to be out on a day like this.”
“Heaven send they aren’t on the downs,” she said. “I don’t mind walking, but it would take till tomorrow to quarter these.”
“I think the downs are ruled out. The lady I am interested in isn’t much of a walker, I should say.”
“What is her name?”
“No, I won’t tell you that until I introduce you. You are supposed not to have heard of her, and it will be better if you really haven’t.”
They walked in silence along the trim front towards Holywell. Everything was trim, with that well-ordered trimness that is so typically Eastbourne. Even the sea was trim — and slightly exclusive. And Beachy Head had the air of having been set down there as a good finish off to the front, and of being perfectly conscious of the fact. They had not been walking for more than ten minutes when Grant said, “We’ll go down to the beach now. I’m almost certain we passed the couple I want some time ago. They are down on the shingle.”
They left the pavement and began a slow foot-slipping stroll back to the piers41 again. Presently they approached two women who were reclining in deck-chairs facing the sea. One, the slighter one, was curled up with her back to Miss Dinmont and the inspector, and was apparently42 reading. The other was snowed round with magazines, writing-pad, sunshade, and all the other recognized paraphernalia43 of an afternoon on the beach, but she was doing nothing and appeared to be half asleep. As they came abreast44 of the chairs the inspector let his glance fall casually45 on them and then stopped.
“Why, Mrs. Ratcliffe!” he said. “Are you down here recuperating46? What glorious weather!”
Mrs. Ratcliffe, after one startled glance, welcomed him. “You remember my sister, Miss Lethbridge?”
Grant shook hands and said, “I don’t think you know my cousin —”
But the gods were good to Grant that day. Before he could commit himself, Miss Lethbridge said in her pleasant drawl:
“Good heavens, if it isn’t Dandie Dinmont! How are you, my dear woman?”
“Do you know each other, then?” asked Grant, feeling like a man who has opened his eyes to find that one more step would have taken him over a precipice47.
“Rather!” said Miss Lethbridge. “I had my appendicitis48 in a room at St. Michael’s, and Dandie Dinmont held my head and my hand alternately. And she held them very well, I will say that for her. Shake hands with Miss Dinmont, Meg. My sister, Mrs. Ratcliffe. Who’d have thought you had cousins in the force!”
“I suppose you are recuperating too, Inspector?” Mrs. Ratcliffe said.
“You could call it that, I suppose,” the inspector said. “My cousin is on holiday from Mike’s, and I have finished my case, so we are making a day of it.”
“Well, it isn’t teatime yet,” said Miss Lethbridge. “Sit down and talk to us for a little. I haven’t seen Dandie for ages.”
“You’ll be glad to have that awful case off your hands, Inspector,” her sister said as they subsided49 on the shingle. She spoke50 as though the murder had been just as much of an event in Grant’s life as it had been in hers, but the inspector let it pass, and presently the talk veered51 away from the murder and went via health, restaurants, hotels, and food to dress, or the lack of it.
“I love your hat brooch,” said Miss Dinmont idly to her friend. “I can think of nothing but hat brooches this afternoon, because we’ve just been buying one for a mutual52 cousin who is getting married. You know — like getting a new coat and seeing people’s coats as you never saw them before. I have it here somewhere.” She reached for her bag without altering her reclining position, and rummaged53 in it until she produced the blue velvet54 box. “What do you think of it?” She opened it and extended it to them.
“Oh, lovely!” said Miss Lethbridge, but Mrs. Ratcliffe said nothing for a little.
“M. R.,” she said at last. “Why, the initials are the same as mine. What is your cousin’s name?”
“Mary Raymond.”
“Sounds like a goody-goody heroine out of a book,” remarked Miss Lethbridge. “Is she goody?”
“No, not particularly, though she’s marrying an awful stodge. You like it, then?”
“Rather!” said Miss Lethbridge.
“Beautiful!” said her sister. “May I have a look at it?” She took the case in her hands, examined the brooch back and front, and handed it back. “Beautiful!” she said again. “And most uncommon55. Can you get them ready-made, so to speak?”
Grant’s infinitesimal shake of the head answered Miss Dinmont’s cry for help. “No, we had it made,” she said.
“Well, she’s a lucky devil, Mary Raymond, and if she doesn’t like it, she has very poor taste.”
“Oh, if she doesn’t like it,” said Grant, “she can just fib and say she does, and we’ll never be a bit the wiser. All women are expert fibbers.”
“‘Ark at ’im!” said Miss Lethbridge. “Poor disillusioned56 creature!”
“Well, isn’t it true? Your social-life is one long series of fibs. You are very sorry — You are not at home — You would have come, but — You wish some one would stay longer. If you aren’t fibbing to your friends, you are fibbing to your maids.”
“I may fib to my friends,” said Mrs. Ratcliffe, “but I most certainly do not fib to my maids!”
“Don’t you?” said Grant, turning idly to look at her. No one, to see him there, with his hat tilted57 over his eyes and his body lounging, would have said that Inspector Grant was on duty. “You were going to the United States the day after the murder, weren’t you?” She nodded calmly. “Well, why did you tell your maid that you were going to Yorkshire?”
Mrs. Ratcliffe made a movement to sit erect58 and then sank back again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I most certainly never told my maid I was going to Yorkshire. I said New York.”
That was so patently possible that Grant hastened to get in first with, “Well, she thinks you said Yorkshire,” before Mrs. Ratcliffe inevitably59 said, “How do you know?”
“There isn’t anything a police inspector doesn’t know,” he said.
“There isn’t anything he won’t do, you mean,” she said angrily. “Have you been walking out with Annie? I shouldn’t be surprised if you suspected me of having done the murder myself.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Grant. “Inspectors suspect all the world.”
“Well, I suppose I can only give thanks that your suspicions led to nothing worse than walking out my maid.”
Grant caught Miss Dinmont’s eyes on him under the short brim of her hat, and there was a new expression in them. The conversation had given away the fact that Mrs. Ratcliffe had some connexion with the queue murder, and Miss Dinmont was being given furiously to think. Grant smiled reassuringly60 at her. “They don’t think I’m nice to know,” he said. “But at least you can stick up for me. Justice is the thing I live for.” Surely she must see, if she thought about it, that his inquiries61 in this direction could not be very incriminating to Lamont. The chances must be the other way about.
“Let’s go and have tea,” Miss Lethbridge said. “Come along to our hotel. Or shall we go somewhere else, Meg? I’m sick of anchovy62 sandwiches and currant cake.”
Grant suggested a tea-shop which had a reputation for cakes, and began to bundle Mrs. Ratcliffe’s scattered63 belongings64 together. As he did so, he let the writing-pad drop so that it fell open on the sand, the first sheet exhibiting a half-written letter. Staring up at him in the bright sunlight were the round large letters of Mrs. Ratcliffe’s script. “Sorry!” he said, and restored the block to the pile of papers and magazines.
Tea as a gastronomic65 function might have been a success, but as a social occasion Grant felt that it failed miserably66. Two out of his three companions regarded him with a distrust of which he could not fail to be conscious, and the third — Miss Lethbridge — was so cheerfully determined67 to pretend that she was not aware of her sister’s ill humour that she tacitly confessed her own awareness68 of tension. When they had taken leave of each other, and Grant and his companion were on their way to the station in the fading light, he said, “You’ve been a brick, Miss Dinmont. I’ll never forget it.” But she did not answer. She was so quiet on the way home that his already discontented thoughts were further distracted. Why couldn’t the girl trust him? Did she think him an ogre to make such unscrupulous use of her as she suspected. And all the time his looker-on half was smiling sardonically69 and saying, “You, a police inspector, asking for trust! Why, Machiavelli was fastidious compared with a C.I.D. man.”
When Grant was at war with himself his mouth had a slight twist in it, and tonight the twist was very marked. He had found not one definite answer to the problems that troubled him. He did not know whether Mrs. Ratcliffe had recognized the brooch or not. He did not know whether she had said New York to her maid or not. And though he had seen her writing, that helped to no conclusion; a large percentage of women wrote large and very round hands. Her pause at the sight of the brooch might have been merely the pause while she read the twined initial. Her veiled questions as to its origin might have been entirely innocent. On the other hand, they most emphatically might not. If she had anything to do with the murder, it must be recognized that she was clever and not likely to give herself away. She had already fooled him once when he dismissed her so lightly from his mind on the first day of the investigations70. There was nothing to prevent her from going on fooling him unless he found a damning fact that could not be explained away.
“What do you think of Mrs. Ratcliffe?” he asked Miss Dinmont. They were alone in the compartment except for a country yokel72 and his girl.
“Why?” she asked. “Is this merely making conversation, or is it more investigation71?”
“I say, Miss Dinmont, are you sore with me?”
“I don’t think that is the correct expression for what I feel,” she said. “It isn’t often I feel a fool, but I do tonight.” And he was dismayed at the bitterness in her voice.
“But there’s not the slightest need,” he said, genuinely distressed73. “You did the job like a professional, and there was nothing in it to make you feel like that. I’m up against something I don’t understand, and I wanted you to help me. That’s all. That’s why I asked you about Mrs. Ratcliffe just now. I want a women’s opinion to help me — an unbiased woman’s opinion.”
“Well, if you want my candid74 opinion, I think the woman is a fool.”
“Oh? You don’t think she’s clever, deep down?”
“I don’t think she has a deep down.”
“You think she’s just shallow? But surely —” He considered.
“Well, you asked me what I thought, and I’ve told you. I think she’s a shallow fool.”
“And her sister?” Grant asked, though that had nothing to do with the investigations.
“Oh, she is different. She has any amount of brain and personality, though you mightn’t think so.”
“Would you say that Mrs. Ratcliffe would commit a murder?”
“No, certainly not!”
“Why not?”
“Because she hasn’t got the guts,” said Miss Dinmont elegantly. “She might do the thing in a fit of temper, but all the world would know it the next minute, and ever afterwards as long as she lived.”
“Do you think she might know about one and keep the knowledge to herself?”
“You mean the knowledge of who was guilty?”
“Yes.”
Miss Dinmont sat looking searchingly at the inspector’s impassive face. The lights of station lamps moved slowly over and past it as the train slid to a halt. “Eridge! Eridge!” called the porter, clumping75 down the deserted platform. The unexpectant voice had died into the distance, and the train had gathered itself into motion again before she spoke.
“I wish I could read what you are thinking,” she said desperately76. “Am I being your fool for the second time in one day?”
“Miss Dinmont, believe me, so far I have never known you do a foolish thing, and I’m willing to take a large bet I never shall.”
“That might do for Mrs. Ratcliffe,” she said. “But I’ll tell you. I think she might keep quiet about a murder, but there would have to be a reason that mattered to herself overwhelmingly. That’s all.”
He was not sure whether the last two words meant that that was all that she could tell him, or whether it was an indication that pumping was to cease; but she had given him food for thought, and he was quiet until they ran into Victoria. “Where are you living?” he asked. “Not at the hospital?”
“No; I’m staying at my club in Cavendish Square.”
He accompanied her there against her wish, and said good night on the doorstep, since she would not be persuaded to dine with him.
“You have some days of holiday yet,” he said, with kindly77 intention. “How are you going to fill them in?”
“In the first place, I’m going to see my aunt. I have come to the conclusion that the evils one knows are less dreadful than the evils one doesn’t know.”
But the inspector caught the glint of the hall light on her teeth, and went away feeling less a martyr78 to injustice79 than he had for some hours past.
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mouldering
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| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
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stuffiness
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| n.不通风，闷热；不通气 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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nauseated
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| adj.作呕的，厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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banishing
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
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cogitation
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| n.仔细思考，计划，设计 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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inspectors
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| n.检查员( inspector的名词复数 )；（英国公共汽车或火车上的）查票员；（警察）巡官；检阅官 | |
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itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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blazon
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| n.纹章，装饰；精确描绘；v.广布；宣布 | |
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judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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previously
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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harried
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| v.使苦恼( harry的过去式和过去分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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perjury
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| n.伪证；伪证罪 | |
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amity
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| n.友好关系 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shingle
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| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
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basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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piers
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| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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recuperating
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| v.恢复（健康、体力等），复原( recuperate的现在分词 ) | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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appendicitis
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| n.阑尾炎，盲肠炎 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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spoke
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| 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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veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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anchovy
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| n.凤尾鱼 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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gastronomic
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| adj.美食（烹饪）法的，烹任学的 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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awareness
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| n.意识，觉悟，懂事，明智 | |
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sardonically
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| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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yokel
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| n.乡下人；农夫 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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75
clumping
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| v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的现在分词 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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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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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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