The temperature in the long drawing- room at Kings Lacey was a comfortable sixty- eight asHercule Poirot sat talking to Mrs Lacey by one of the big mullioned windows. Mrs Lacey wasengaged in needlework. She was not doing petit point or embroidering1 flowers upon silk. Instead,she appeared to be engaged in the prosaic2 task of hemming3 dishclothes. As she sewed she talked ina soft reflective voice that Poirot found very charming.
"I hope you will enjoy our Christmas party here, M. Poirot. It's only the family, you know. Mygranddaughter and a grandson and a friend of his and Bridget who's my great-niece, and Dianawho's a cousin and David Welwyn who is a very old friend. Just a family party. But EdwinaMorecombe said that that's what you really wanted to see. An old-fashioned Christmas. Nothingcould be more old-fashioned than we are! My husband, you know, absolutely lives in the past. Helikes everything to be just as it was when he was a boy of twelve years old, and used to come herefor his holidays." She smiled to herself. "All the same old things, the Christmas tree and thestockings hung up and the oyster4 soup and the turkey - two turkeys, one boiled and one roast - andthe plum pudding with the ring and the bachelor's button and all the rest of it in it. One can't havesixpences nowadays because they're not pure silver any more. But all the old desserts, the Elvasplums and Carlsbad plums and almonds and raisins5, and crystallised fruit and ginger6. Dear me, Isound like a catalogue from Fortnum and Mason!""You arouse my gastronomic7 juices, Madame."
"I expect we'll all have frightful8 indigestion by tomorrow evening," said Mrs Lacey. "One isn'tused to eating so much nowadays, is one?"
She was interrupted by some loud shouts and whoops9 of laughter outside the window. She glancedout.
"I don't know what they're doing out there. Playing some game or other, I suppose. I've alwaysbeen so afraid, you know, that these young people would be bored by our Christmas here. But notat all, it's just the opposite. Now my own son and daughter and their friends, they used to be rathersophisticated about Christmas. Say it was all nonsense and too much fuss and it would be farbetter to go out to a hotel somewhere and dance. But the younger generation seem to find all thisterribly attractive. Besides," added Mrs Lacey practically, "schoolboys and schoolgirls are alwayshungry, aren't they? I think they must starve them at these schools. After all, one does knowchildren of that age each eat about as much as three strong men."Poirot laughed and said, "It is most kind of you and your husband, Madame, to include me in thisway in your family party."
"Oh, we're both delighted, I'm sure," said Mrs Lacey. "And if you find Horace a little gruff," shecontinued, "pay no attention. It's just his manner, you know."What her husband, Colonel Lacey, had actually said was: "Can't think why you want one of thesedamned foreigners here cluttering10 up Christmas? Why can't we have him some other time? Can'tstick foreigners! All right, all right, so Edwina Morecombe wished him on us. What's it got to dowith her, I should like to know? Why doesn't she have him for Christmas?""Because you know very well," Mrs Lacey had said, "that Edwina always goes to Claridge's."Her husband had looked at her piercingly and said, "Not up to something, are you, Em?""Up to something?" said Em, opening very blue eyes. "Of course not. Why should I be?"Old Colonel Lacey laughed, a deep, rumbling11 laugh. "I wouldn't put it past you, Em," he said.
"When you look your most innocent is when you are up to something."Revolving12 these things in her mind, Mrs Lacey went on: "Edwina said she thought perhaps youmight help us... I'm sure I don't know quite how, but she said that friends of yours had once foundyou very helpful in - in a case something like ours. I - well, perhaps you don't know what I'mtalking about?"
Poirot looked at her encouragingly. Mrs Lacey was close on seventy, as upright as a ramrod, withsnow-white hair, pink cheeks, blue eyes, a ridiculous nose and a determined13 chin.
"If there is anything I can do I shall only be too happy to do it," said Poirot. "It is, I understand, arather unfortunate matter of a young girl's infatuation."Mrs Lacey nodded. "Yes. It seems extraordinary that I should - well, want to talk to you about it.
After all, you are a perfect stranger..."
"And a foreigner," said Poirot, in an understanding manner.
"Yes," said Mrs Lacey, "but perhaps that makes it easier, in a way. Anyhow, Edwina seemed tothink that you might perhaps know something - how shall I put it - something useful about thisyoung Desmond Lee-Wortley."
Poirot paused a moment to admire the ingenuity15 of Mr Jelmond and the ease with which he hadmade use of Lady Morecombe to further his own purposes.
"He has not, I understand, a very good reputation, this young man?" he began delicately.
"No, indeed, he hasn't! A very bad reputation! But that's no help so far as Sarah is concerned. It'snever any good, is it, telling young girls that men have a bad reputation? It - it just spurs them on!""You are so very right," said Poirot.
"In my young day," went on Mrs Lacey. "(Oh dear, that's a very long time ago!) We used to bewarned, you know, against certain young men, and of course it did heighten one's interest in them,and if one could possibly manage to dance with them, or to be alone with them in a darkconservatory..." she laughed. "That's why I wouldn't let Horace do any of the things he wanted todo."
"Tell me," said Poirot, "exactly what it is that troubles you?""Our son was killed in the war," Mrs Lacey. "My daughter-in-law died when Sarah was born sothat she has always been with us, and we've brought her up. Perhaps we've brought her upunwisely - I don't know. But we thought we ought always to leave her as free as possible.""That is desirable, I think," said Poirot. "One cannot go against the spirit of the times.""No," said Mrs Lacey, "that's just what I felt about it. And, of course, girls nowadays do do thesesort of things."
Poirot looked at her inquiringly.
"I think the way one expresses it," said Mrs Lacey, "is that Sarah has got in with what they call thecoffee-bar set. She won't go to dances or come out properly or be a deb or anything of that kind.
Instead she has two rather unpleasant rooms in Chelsea down by the river and wears these funnyclothes that they like to wear, and black stockings or bright green ones. Very thick stockings. (Soprickly, I always think!) And she goes about without washing or combing her hair.""?a, c'est tout16 à fait naturelle," said Poirot. "It is the fashion of the moment. They grow out of it.""Yes, I know," said Mrs Lacey. "I wouldn't worry about that sort of thing. But you see she's takenup with this Desmond Lee-Wortley and he really has a very unsavoury reputation. He lives moreor less on well-to-do girls. They seem to go quite mad about him. He very nearly married the Hopegirl, but her people got her made a ward17 of court or something. And of course that's what Horacewants to do. He says he must do it for her protection. But I don't think it's really a good idea, M.
Poirot. I mean, they'll just run away together and go to Scotland or Ireland or the Argentine orsomewhere and either get married or else live together without getting married. And although itmay be contempt of court and all that - well, it isn't really an answer, is it, in the end? Especially ifa baby's coming. One has to give in then, and let them get married. And then, nearly always, itseems to me, after a year or two there's a divorce. And then the girl comes home and usually aftera year or two she marries someone so nice he's almost dull and settles down. But it's particularlysad, it seems to me, if there is a child, because it's not the same thing, being brought up by astepfather, however nice. No, I think it's much better if we did as we did in my young days. I meanthe first young man one fell in love with was always someone undesirable18. I remember I had ahorrible passion for a young man called - now what was his name now? - how strange it is, I can'tremember his Christian19 name at all! Tibbitt, that was his surname. Young Tibbitt. Of course, myfather more or less forbade him the house, but he used to get asked to the same dances, and weused to dance together. And sometimes we'd escape and sit out together and occasionally friendswould arrange picnics to which we both went. Of course, it was all very exciting and forbiddenand one enjoyed it enormously. But one didn't go to the well, to the lengths that girls go nowadays.
And so, after a while, the Mr Tibbitts faded out. And do you know, when I saw him four yearslater I was surprised what I could ever have seen in him! He seemed to be such a dull young man.
Flashy, you know. No interesting conversation.""One always thinks the days of one's own youth are best," said Poirot, somewhat sententiously.
"I know," said Mrs Lacey. "It's tiresome20, isn't it? I mustn't be tiresome. But all the same I don'twant Sarah, who's a dear girl really, to marry Desmond Lee-Wortley. She and David Welwyn,who is staying here, were always such friends and so fond of each other, and we did hope, Horaceand I, that they would grow up and marry. But of course she just finds him dull now, and she'sabsolutely infatuated with Desmond."
"I do not quite understand, Madame," said Poirot. "You have him here now, staying in the house,this Desmond Lee-Wortley?"
"That's my doing," said Mrs Lacey. "Horace was all for forbidding her to see him and all that. Ofcourse, in Horace's day, the father or guardian21 would have called round at the young man'slodgings with a horse whip! Horace was all for forbidding the fellow the house, and forbidding thegirl to see him. I told him that was quite the wrong attitude to take. 'No,' I said. 'Ask him downhere. We'll have him down for Christmas with the family party.' Of course, my husband said I wasmad! But I said, 'At any rate, dear, let's try it. Let her see him in our atmosphere and our house andwe'll be very nice to him and very polite, and perhaps then he'll seem less interesting to her'!""I think, as they say, you have something there, Madame," said Poirot. "I think your point of viewis very wise. Wiser than your husband's."
"Well, I hope it is," said Mrs Lacey doubtfully. "It doesn't seem to be working much yet. But ofcourse he's only been here a couple of days." A sudden dimple showed in her wrinkled cheek. "I'llconfess something to you, M. Poirot. I myself can't help liking22 him. I don't mean I really like him,with my mind, but I can feel the charm all right. Oh yes, I can see what Sarah sees in him. But I'man old enough woman and have enough experience to know that he's absolutely no good. Even if Ido enjoy his company. Though I do think," added Mrs Lacey, rather wistfully, "he has some goodpoints. He asked if he might bring his sister here, you know. She's had an operation and was inhospital. He said it was so sad for her being in a nursing home over Christmas and he wondered ifit would be too much trouble if he could bring her with him. He said he'd take all her meals up toher and all that. Well now, I do think that was rather nice of him, don't you, M. Poirot?""It shows a consideration," said Poirot, thoughtfully, "which seems almost out of character.""Oh, I don't know. You can have family affections at the same time as wishing to prey23 on a richyoung girl. Sarah will be very rich, you know, not only with what we leave her - and of course thatwon't be very much because most of the money goes with the place to Colin, my grandson. Buther mother was a very rich woman and Sarah will inherit all her money when she's twenty-one.
She's only twenty now. No, I do think it was nice of Desmond to mind about his sister. And hedidn't pretend she was anything very wonderful or that. She's a shorthand typist, I gather - doessecretarial work in London. And he's been as good as his word and does carry up trays to her. Notall the time, of course, but quite often. So I think he has some nice points. But all the same," saidMrs Lacey with great decision, "I don't want Sarah to marry him.""From all I have heard and been told," said Poirot, "that would indeed be a disaster.""Do you think it would be possible for you to help us in any way?" asked Mrs Lacey.
"I think it is possible, yes," said Hercule Poirot, "but I do not wish to promise too much. For theMr Desmond Lee- Wortleys of this world are clever, Madame. But do not despair. One can,perhaps, do a little something. I shall at any rate, put forth24 my best endeavours, if only in gratitudefor your kindness in asking me here for this Christmas festivity." He looked round him. "And itcannot be so easy these days to have Christmas festivities.""No, indeed," Mrs Lacey sighed. She leaned forward. "Do you know, M. Poirot, what I reallydream of - what I would love to have?"
"But tell me, Madame."
"I simply long to have a small, modern bungalow25. No, perhaps not a bungalow exactly, but asmall, modern, easy to run house built somewhere in the park here, and live in it with anabsolutely up-to-date kitchen and no long passages. Everything easy and simple.""It is a very practical idea, Madame."
"It's not practical for me," said Mrs Lacey. "My husband adores this place. He loves living here.
He doesn't mind being slightly uncomfortable, he doesn't mind the inconveniences and he wouldhate, simply hate, to live in a small modern house in the park!""So you sacrifice yourself to his wishes?"
Mrs Lacey drew herself up. "I do not consider it a sacrifice, M. Poirot," she said. "I married myhusband with the wish to make him happy. He has been a good husband to me and made me veryhappy all these years, and I wish to give happiness to him.""So you will continue to live here," said Poirot.
"It's not really too uncomfortable," said Mrs Lacey.
"No, no," said Poirot, hastily. "On the contrary, it is most comfortable. Your central heating andyour bath water are perfection."
"We spend a lot of money in making the house comfortable to live in," said Mrs Lacey. "We wereable to sell some land. Ripe for development, I think they call it. Fortunately right out of sight ofthe house on the other side of the park. Really rather an ugly bit of ground with no nice view, butwe got a very good price for it. So that we have been able to have as many improvements aspossible."
"But the service, Madame?"
"Oh, well, that presents less difficulty than you might think. Of course, one cannot expect to belooked after and waited upon as one used to be. Different people come in from the village. Twowomen in the morning, another two to cook lunch and wash it up, and different ones again in theevening. There are plenty of people who want to come and work for a few hours a day. Of coursefor Christmas we are very lucky. My dear Mrs Ross always comes in every Christmas. She is awonderful cook, really first-class. She retired26 about ten years ago, but she comes in to help us inany emergency. Then there is dear Peverell."
"Your butler?"
"Yes. He is pensioned off and lives in the little house near the lodge27, but he is so devoted28, and heinsists on coming to wait on us at Christmas. Really, I'm terrified, M. Poirot, because he's so oldand so shaky that I feel certain that if he carries anything heavy he will drop it. It's really an agonyto watch him. And his heart is not good and I'm afraid of his doing too much. But it would hurt hisfeelings dreadfully if I did not let him come. He hems29 and hahs and makes disapproving30 noiseswhen he sees the state our silver is in and within three days of being here, it is all wonderful again.
Yes. He is a dear faithful friend." She smiled at Poirot. "So you see, we are all set for a happyChristmas. A white Christmas, too," she added as she looked out of the window. "See? It isbeginning to snow. Ah, the children are coming in. You must meet them, M. Poirot."Poirot was introduced with due ceremony. First, to Colin and Michael, the schoolboy grandsonand his friend, nice polite lads of fifteen, one dark, one fair. Then to their cousin, Bridget, a black-haired girl of about the same age with enormous vitality31.
"And this is my granddaughter, Sarah," said Mrs Lacey.
Poirot looked with some interest at Sarah, an attractive girl with a mop of red hair; her mannerseemed to him nervy and a trifle defiant32, but she showed real affection for her grandmother.
"And this is Mr Lee-Wortley."
Mr Lee-Wortley wore a fisherman's jersey33 and tight black jeans; his hair was rather long and itseemed doubtful whether he had shaved that morning. In contrast to him was a young manintroduced as David Welwyn, who was solid and quiet, with a pleasant smile, and rather obviouslyaddicted to soap and water. There was one other member of the party, a handsome, rather intense-looking girl who was introduced as Diana Middleton.
Tea was brought in. A hearty34 meal of scones35, crumpets, sandwiches and three kinds of cake. Theyounger members of the party appreciated the tea. Colonel Lacey came in last, remarking in anoncommittal voice:
"Hey, tea? Oh yes, tea."
He received his cup of tea from his wife's hand, helped himself to two scones, cast a look ofaversion at Desmond Lee-Wortley and sat down as far away from him as he could. He was a bigman with bushy eyebrows36 and a red, weather-beaten face. He might have been taken for a farmerrather than the lord of the manor37.
"Started to snow," he said. "It's going to be a white Christmas all right."After tea the party dispersed38.
"I expect they'll go and play with their tape recorders now," said Mrs Lacey to Poirot. She lookedindulgently after her grandson as he left the room. Her tone was that of one who says "Thechildren are going to play with their toy soldiers.""They're frightfully technical, of course," she said, "and very grand about it all."The boys and Bridget, however, decided39 to go along to the lake and see if the ice on it was likelyto make skating possible.
"I thought we could have skated on it this morning," said Colin. "But old Hodgkins said no. He'salways so terribly careful."
"Come for a walk, David," said Diana Middleton, softly. David hesitated for half a moment, hiseyes on Sarah's red head. She was standing14 by Desmond Lee-Wortley, her hand on his arm,looking up into his face.
"All right," said David Welwyn, "yes, let's."Diana slipped a quick hand through his arm and they turned towards the door into the garden.
Sarah said:
"Shall we go, too, Desmond? It's fearfully stuffy40 in the house.""Who wants to walk?" said Desmond. "I'll get my car out. We'll go along to the Speckled Boar andhave a drink."
Sarah hesitated for a moment before saying:
"Let's go to Market Ledbury to the White Hart. It's much more fun."Though for all the world she would not have put it into words, Sarah had an instinctive41 revulsionfrom going down to the local pub with Desmond. It was, somehow, not in the tradition of KingsLacey. The women of Kings Lacey had never frequented the bar of the Speckled Boar. She had anobscure feeling that to go there would be to let old Colonel Lacey and his wife down. And whynot? Desmond Lee-Wortley would have said. For a moment of exasperation42 Sarah felt that heought to know why not! One didn't upset such old darlings as Grandfather and dear old Em unlessit was necessary. They'd been very sweet, really, letting her lead her own life, not understanding inthe least why she wanted to live in Chelsea in the way she did, but accepting it. That was due toEm of course. Grandfather would have kicked up no end of a row.
Sarah had no illusions about her grandfather's attitude. It was not his doing that Desmond had beenasked to stay at Kings Lacey. That was Em, and Em was a darling and always had been.
When Desmond had gone to fetch his car, Sarah popped her head into the drawing-room again.
"We're going over to Market Ledbury," she said. "We thought we'd have a drink there at the WhiteHart."
There was a slight amount of defiance43 in her voice, but Mrs Lacey did not seem to notice it.
"Well, dear," she said, "I'm sure that will be very nice. David and Diana have gone for a walk, Isee. I'm so glad. I really think it was a brainwave on my part to ask Diana here. So sad being left awidow so young - only twenty-two - I do hope she marries again soon."Sarah looked at her sharply. "What are you up to, Em?""It's my little plan," said Mrs Lacey gleefully. "I think she's just right for David. Of course I knowhe was terribly in love with you, Sarah dear, but you'd no use for him and I realise that he isn'tyour type. But I don't want him to go on being unhappy, and I think Diana will really suit him.""What a matchmaker you are, Em," said Sarah.
"I know," said Mrs Lacey. "Old women always are. Diana's quite keen on him already, I think.
Don't you think she'd be just right for him?""I shouldn't say so," said Sarah. "I think Diana's far too - well, too intense, too serious. I shouldthink David would find it terribly boring being married to her.""Well, we'll see," said Mrs Lacey. "Anyway, you don't want him, do you, dear?""No, indeed," said Sarah, very quickly. She added, in a sudden rush, "You do like Desmond, don'tyou, Em?"
"I'm sure he's very nice indeed," said Mrs Lacey.
"Grandfather doesn't like him," said Sarah.
"Well, you could hardly expect him to, could you?" said Mrs Lacey reasonably, "but I dare sayhe'll come round when he gets used to the idea. You mustn't rush him, Sarah dear. Old people arevery slow to change their minds and your grandfather is rather obstinate44.""I don't care what Grandfather thinks or says," said Sarah. "I shall get married to Desmondwhenever I like!"
"I know, dear, I know. But do try and be realistic about it. Your grandfather could cause a lot oftrouble, you know. You're not of age yet. In another year you can do as you please. I expectHorace will have come round long before that.""You're on my side aren't you, darling?" said Sarah. She flung her arms round her grandmother'sneck and gave her an affectionate kiss.
"I want you to be happy," said Mrs Lacey. "Ah! there's your young man bringing his car round.
You know, I like these very tight trousers these young men wear nowadays. They look so smartonly, of course, it does accentuate45 knock knees."Yes, Sarah thought, Desmond had got knock knees, she had never noticed it before...
"Go on, dear, enjoy yourself," said Mrs Lacey.
She watched her go out to the car, then, remembering her foreign guest, she went along to thelibrary. Looking in, however, she saw that Hercule Poirot was taking a pleasant little nap, andsmiling to herself, she went across the hall and out into the kitchen to have a conference with MrsRoss.
"Come on, beautiful," said Desmond. "Your family cutting up rough because you're coming out toa pub? Years behind the times here, aren't they?""Of course they're not making a fuss," said Sarah, sharply as she got into the car.
"What's the idea of having that foreign fellow down? He's a detective, isn't he? What needsdetecting here?"
"Oh, he's not here professionally," said Sarah. "Edwina Morecombe, my godmother, asked us tohave him. I think he's retired from professional work long ago.""Sounds like a broken-down old cab horse," said Desmond.
"He wanted to see an old-fashioned English Christmas, I believe," said Sarah vaguely46.
Desmond laughed scornfully. "Such a lot of tripe47, that sort of thing," he said. "How you can standit I don't know."
Sarah's red hair was tossed back and her aggressive chin shot up.
"I enjoy it!" she said defiantly48.
"You can't, baby. Let's cut the whole thing tomorrow. Go over to Scarborough or somewhere.""I couldn't possibly do that."
"Why not?"
"Oh, it would hurt their feelings."
"Oh, bilge! You know you don't enjoy this childish sentimental49 bosh.""Well, not really perhaps, but..." Sarah broke off. She realised with a feeling of guilt50 that she waslooking forward a good deal to the Christmas celebration. She enjoyed the whole thing, but shewas ashamed to admit that to Desmond. It was not the thing to enjoy Christmas and family life.
Just for a moment she wished that Desmond had not come down here at Christmas time. In fact,she almost wished that Desmond had not come down here at all. It was much more fun seeingDesmond in London than here at home.
In the meantime the boys and Bridget were walking back from the lake, still discussing earnestlythe problems of skating. Flecks51 of snow had been falling, and looking up at the sky it could beprophesied that before long there was going to be a heavy snowfall.
"It's going to snow all night," said Colin. "Bet you by Christmas morning we have a couple of feetof snow."
The prospect52 was a pleasurable one. "Let's make a snow-man," said Michael.
"Good lord," said Colin. "I haven't made a snow-man since - well, since I was about four yearsold."
"I don't believe it's a bit easy to do," said Bridget. "I mean, you have to know how.""We might make an effigy53 of M. Poirot," said Colin. "Give it a big black moustache. There is onein the dressing-up box."
"I don't see, you know," said Michael thoughtfully, "how M. Poirot could ever have been adetective. I don't see how he'd ever be able to disguise himself.""I know," said Bridget, "and one can't imagine him running about with a microscope and lookingfor clues or measuring footprints."
"I've got an idea," said Colin. "Let's put on a show for him!""What do you mean, a show?" asked Bridget.
"Well, arrange a murder for him."
"What a gorgeous idea," said Bridget. "Do you mean a body in the snow - that sort of thing?""Yes. It would make him feel at home, wouldn't it?"Bridget giggled54.
"I don't know that I'd go as far as that."
"If it snows," said Colin, "we'll have the perfect setting. A body and footprints - we'll have to thinkthat out rather carefully and pinch one of Grandfather's daggers55 and make some blood."They came to a halt and oblivious56 to the rapidly falling snow, entered into an excited discussion.
"There's a paintbox in the old schoolroom. We could mix up some blood - crimson-lake, I shouldthink."
"Crimson-lake's a bit too pink, I think," said Bridget. "It ought to be a bit browner.""Who's going to be the body?" asked Michael.
"I'll be the body," said Bridget quickly.
"Oh, look here," said Colin, "I thought of it.""Oh, no, no," said Bridget, "it must be me. It's got to be a girl. It's more exciting. Beautiful girllying lifeless in the snow."
"Beautiful girl! Ah-ha," said Michael in derision.
"I've got black hair, too," said Bridget.
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Well, it'll show up so well on the snow and I shall wear my red pyjamas57.""If you wear red pyjamas, they won't show the bloodstains," said Michael in a practical manner.
"But they'd look so effective against the snow," said Bridget, "and they've got white facings, youknow, so the blood could be on that. Oh, won't it be gorgeous? Do you think he will really betaken in?"
"He will if we do it well enough," said Michael. "We'll have just your footprints in the snow andone other person's going to the body and coming away from it - a man's, of course. He won't wantto disturb them, so he won't know that you're not really dead. You don't think," Michael stopped,struck by a sudden idea. The others looked at him. "You don't think he'll be annoyed about it?""Oh, I shouldn't think so," said Bridget, with facile optimism. "I'm sure he'll understand that we'vejust done it to entertain him. A sort of Christmas treat.""I don't think we ought to do it on Christmas Day," said Colin reflectively. "I don't thinkGrandfather would like that very much."
"Boxing Day then," said Bridget.
"Boxing Day would be just right," said Michael.
"And it'll give us more time, too," pursued Bridget. "After all, there are a lot of things to arrange.
Let's go and have a look at all the props58."
They hurried into the house.
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embroidering
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| v.（在织物上）绣花( embroider的现在分词 )；刺绣；对…加以渲染（或修饰）；给…添枝加叶 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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hemming
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oyster
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raisins
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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gastronomic
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frightful
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whoops
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cluttering
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的现在分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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revolving
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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hems
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| 布的褶边，贴边( hem的名词复数 )； 短促的咳嗽 | |
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disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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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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scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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accentuate
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| v.着重，强调 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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tripe
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| n.废话，肚子, 内脏 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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flecks
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| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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daggers
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| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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