I had to wait just a minute or two, then the door opened.
A big blonde Nordic girl with a flushed face and wearing gaycoloured clothing looked at meinquiringly. Her hands had been hastily wiped but there were traces of flour on them and there wasa slight smear2 of flour on her nose so it was easy for me to guess what she had been doing.
“Excuse me,” I said, “but you have a little girl here, I think. She dropped something out of thewindow.”
She smiled at me encouragingly. The English language was not as yet her strong point.
“I am sorry—what you say?”
“A child here—a little girl.”
“Yes, yes.” She nodded.
“Dropped something—out of the window.”
Here I did a little gesticulation.
“I picked it up and brought it here.”
I held out an open hand. In it was a silver fruit knife. She looked at it without recognition.
“I do not think—I have not seen….”
“You’re busy cooking,” I said sympathetically.
“Yes, yes, I cook. That is so.” She nodded vigorously.
“I don’t want to disturb you,” I said. “If you let me just take it to her.”
“Excuse?”
My meaning seemed to come to her. She led the way across the hall and opened a door. It ledinto a pleasant sitting room. By the window a couch had been drawn3 up and on it there was a childof about nine or ten years old, with a leg done up in plaster.
“This gentleman, he say you—you drop….”
At this moment, rather fortunately, a strong smell of burning came from the kitchen. My guideuttered an exclamation4 of dismay.
“Excuse, please excuse.”
“You go along,” I said heartily5. “I can manage this.”
She fled with alacrity6. I entered the room, shut the door behind me and came across to thecouch.
“How d’you do?” I said.
The child said, “How d’you do?” and proceeded to sum me up with a long, penetrating7 glancethat almost unnerved me. She was rather a plain child with straight mousy hair arranged in twoplaits. She had a bulging8 forehead, a sharp chin and a pair of very intelligent grey eyes.
“I’m Colin Lamb,” I said. “What’s your name?”
She gave me the information promptly9.
“Geraldine Mary Alexandra Brown.”
“Dear me,” I said, “that’s quite a bit of a name. What do they call you?”
“Geraldine. Sometimes Gerry, but I don’t like that. And Daddy doesn’t approve ofabbreviations.”
One of the great advantages of dealing10 with children is that they have their own logic11. Anyoneof adult years would at once have asked me what I wanted. Geraldine was quite ready to enter intoconversation without resorting to foolish questions. She was alone and bored and the onset12 of anykind of visitor was an agreeable novelty. Until I proved myself a dull and unamusing fellow, shewould be quite ready to converse13.
“Your daddy’s out, I suppose,” I said.
She replied with the same promptness and fullness of detail which she had already shown.
“Cartinghaven Engineering Works, Beaverbridge,” she said. “It’s fourteen and three-quartermiles from here exactly.”
“And your mother?”
“Mummy’s dead,” said Geraldine, with no diminution14 of cheerfulness. “She died when I was ababy two months old. She was in a plane coming from France. It crashed. Everyone was killed.”
She spoke15 with a certain satisfaction and I perceived that to a child, if her mother is dead, itreflects a certain kudos16 if she has been killed in a complete and devastating17 accident.
“I see,” I said. “So you have—” I looked towards the door.
“That’s Ingrid. She comes from Norway. She’s only been here a fortnight. She doesn’t knowany English to speak of yet. I’m teaching her English.”
“And she is teaching you Norwegian?”
“Not very much,” said Geraldine.
“Do you like her?”
“Yes. She’s all right. The things she cooks are rather odd sometimes. Do you know, she likeseating raw fish.”
“I’ve eaten raw fish in Norway,” I said. “It’s very good sometimes.”
Geraldine looked extremely doubtful about that.
“She is trying to make a treacle18 tart19 today,” she said.
“That sounds good.”
“Umm—yes, I like treacle tart.” She added politely, “Have you come to lunch?”
“Not exactly. As a matter of fact I was passing down below out there, and I think you droppedsomething out of the window.”
“Me?”
“Yes.” I advanced the silver fruit knife.
Geraldine looked at it, at first suspiciously and then with signs of approval.
“It’s rather nice,” she said. “What is it?”
“It’s a fruit knife.”
I opened it.
“Oh, I see. You mean you can peel apples with it and things like that.”
“Yes.”
Geraldine sighed.
“It’s not mine. I didn’t drop it. What made you think I did?”
“Well, you were looking out of the window, and….”
“I look out of the window most of the time,” said Geraldine. “I fell down and broke my leg, yousee.”
“Hard luck.”
“Yes, wasn’t it. I didn’t break it in a very interesting way, though. I was getting out of a bus andit went on suddenly. It hurt rather at first and it ached a bit, but it doesn’t now.”
“Must be rather dull for you,” I said.
“Yes, it is. But Daddy brings me things. Plasticine, you know, and books and crayons andjigsaw puzzles and things like that, but you get tired of doing things, so I spend a lot of timelooking out of the window with these.”
She produced with enormous pride a small pair of opera glasses.
“May I look?” I said.
I took them from her, adjusted them to my eyes and looked out of the window.
“They’re jolly good,” I said appreciatively.
They were indeed, excellent. Geraldine’s daddy, if it had been he who supplied them, had notspared expense. It was astonishing how clearly you could see No. 19, Wilbraham Crescent and itsneighbouring houses. I handed them back to her.
“They’re excellent,” I said. “First-class.”
“They’re proper ones,” said Geraldine, with pride. “Not just for babies and pretending.”
“No … I can see that.”
“I keep a little book,” said Geraldine.
She showed me.
“I write down things in it and the times. It’s like trainspotting,” she added. “I’ve got a cousincalled Dick and he does trainspotting. We do motorcar numbers too. You know, you start at oneand see how far you can get.”
“It’s rather a good sport,” I said.
“Yes, it is. Unfortunately there aren’t many cars come down this road so I’ve rather given thatup for the time being.”
“I suppose you must know all about those houses down there, who lives in them and all that sortof thing.”
I threw it out casually20 enough but Geraldine was quick to respond.
“Oh, yes. Of course I don’t know their real names, so I have to give them names of my own.”
“That must be rather fun,” I said.
“That’s the Marchioness of Carrabas down there,” said Geraldine, pointing. “That one with allthe untidy trees. You know, like Puss In Boots. She has masses and masses of cats.”
“I was talking to one just now,” I said, “an orange one.”
“Yes, I saw you,” said Geraldine.
“You must be very sharp,” I said. “I don’t expect you miss much, do you?”
Geraldine smiled in a pleased way. Ingrid opened the door and came in breathless.
“You are all right, yes?”
“We’re quite all right,” said Geraldine firmly. “You needn’t worry, Ingrid.”
She nodded violently and pantomimed with her hands.
“You go back, you cook.”
“Very well, I go. It is nice that you have a visitor.”
“She gets nervous when she cooks,” explained Geraldine, “when she’s trying anything new, Imean. And sometimes we have meals very late because of that. I’m glad you’ve come. It’s nice tohave someone to distract you, then you don’t think about being hungry.”
“Tell me more about the people in the houses there,” I said, “and what you see. Who lives in thenext house—the neat one?”
“Oh, there’s a blind woman there. She’s quite blind and yet she walks just as well as though shecould see. The porter told me that. Harry21. He’s very nice, Harry is. He tells me a lot of things. Hetold me about the murder.”
“The murder?” I said, sounding suitably astonished.
Geraldine nodded. Her eyes shone with importance at the information she was about to convey.
“There was a murder in that house. I practically saw it.”
“How very interesting.”
“Yes, isn’t it? I’ve never seen a murder before. I mean I’ve never seen a place where a murderhappened.”
“What did you—er—see?”
“Well, there wasn’t very much going on just then. You know, it’s rather an empty time of day.
The exciting thing was when somebody came rushing out of the house screaming. And then ofcourse I knew something must have happened.”
“Who was screaming?”
“Just a woman. She was quite young, rather pretty really. She came out of the door and shescreamed and she screamed. There was a young man coming along the road. She came out of thegate and sort of clutched him—like this.” She made a motion with her arms. She fixed22 me with asudden glance. “He looked rather like you.”
“I must have a double,” I said lightly. “What happened next? This is very exciting.”
“Well, he sort of plumped her down. You know, on the ground there and then he went back intothe house and the Emperor—that’s the orange cat, I always call him the Emperor because he looksso proud—stopped washing himself and he looked quite surprised, and then Miss Pikestaff cameout of her house—that’s the one there, Number 18—she came out and stood on the steps staring.”
“Miss Pikestaff?”
“I call her Miss Pikestaff because she’s so plain. She’s got a brother and she bullies23 him.”
“Go on,” I said with interest.
“And then all sorts of things happened. The man came out of the house again—are you sure itwasn’t you?”
“I’m a very ordinary-looking chap,” I said modestly, “there are lots like me.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” said Geraldine, somewhat unflatteringly. “Well, anyway, this man,he went off down the road and telephoned from the call box down there. Presently police beganarriving.” Her eyes sparkled. “Lots of police. And they took the dead body away in a sort ofambulance thing. Of course there were lots of people by that time, staring, you know. I saw Harrythere, too. That’s the porter from these flats. He told me about it afterwards.”
“Did he tell you who was murdered?”
“He just said it was a man. Nobody knew his name.”
“It’s all very interesting,” I said.
I prayed fervently24 that Ingrid would not choose this moment to come in again with a delectabletreacle tart or other delicacy25.
“But go back a little, do. Tell me earlier. Did you see this man—the man who was murdered—did you see him arrive at the house?”
“No, I didn’t. I suppose he must have been there all along.”
“You mean he lived there?”
“Oh, no, nobody lives there except Miss Pebmarsh.”
“So you know her real name?”
“Oh, yes, it was in the papers. About the murder. And the screaming girl was called SheilaWebb. Harry told me that the man who was murdered was called Mr. Curry26. That’s a funny name,isn’t it, like the thing you eat. And there was a second murder, you know. Not the same day—later—in the telephone box down the road. I can see it from here, just, but I have to get my head rightout of the window and turn it round. Of course I didn’t really see it, because I mean if I’d known itwas going to happen, I would have looked out. But, of course, I didn’t know it was going tohappen, so I didn’t. There were a lot of people that morning just standing27 there in the street,looking at the house opposite. I think that’s rather stupid, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, “very stupid.”
Here Ingrid made her appearance once more.
“I come soon,” she said reassuringly28. “I come very soon now.”
She departed again. Geraldine said:
“We don’t really want her. She gets worried about meals. Of course this is the only one she hasto cook except breakfast. Daddy goes down to the restaurant in the evening and he has somethingsent up for me from there. Just fish or something. Not a real dinner.” Her voice sounded wistful.
“What time do you usually have your lunch, Geraldine?”
“My dinner, you mean? This is my dinner. I don’t have dinner in the evening, it’s supper. Well,I really have my dinner at any time Ingrid happens to have cooked it. She’s rather funny abouttime. She has to get breakfast ready at the right time because Daddy gets so cross, but middaydinner we have anytime. Sometimes we have it at twelve o’clock and sometimes I don’t get it tilltwo. Ingrid says you don’t have meals at a particular time, you just have them when they’reready.”
“Well, it’s an easy idea,” I said. “What time did you have your lunch—dinner, I mean—on theday of the murder?”
“That was one of the twelve o’clock days. You see, Ingrid goes out that day. She goes to thecinema or to have her hair done and a Mrs. Perry comes and keeps me company. She’s terrible,really. She pats one.”
“Pats one?” I said, slightly puzzled.
“You know, on the head. Says things like ‘dear little girlie.’ She’s not,” said Geraldine, “thekind of person you can have any proper conversation with. But she brings me sweets and that sortof thing.”
“How old are you, Geraldine?”
“I’m ten. Ten and three months.”
“You seem to me very good at intelligent conversation,” I said.
“That’s because I have to talk to Daddy a lot,” said Geraldine seriously.
“So you had your dinner early on that day of the murder?”
“Yes, so Ingrid could get washed up and go off just after one.”
“Then you were looking out of the window that morning, watching people.”
“Oh, yes. Part of the time. Earlier, about ten o’clock, I was doing a crossword29 puzzle.”
“I’ve been wondering whether you could possibly have seen Mr. Curry arriving at the house?”
Geraldine shook her head.
“No. I didn’t. It is rather odd, I agree.”
“Well, perhaps he got there quite early.”
“He didn’t go to the front door and ring the bell. I’d have seen him.”
“Perhaps he came in through the garden. I mean through the other side of the house.”
“Oh, no,” said Geraldine. “It backs on other houses. They wouldn’t like anyone coming throughtheir garden.”
“No, no, I suppose they wouldn’t.”
“I wish I knew what he’d looked like,” said Geraldine.
“Well, he was quite old. About sixty. He was clean-shaven and he had on a dark grey suit.”
Geraldine shook her head.
“It sounds terribly ordinary,” she said with disapprobation.
“Anyway,” I said, “I suppose it’s difficult for you to remember one day from another whenyou’re lying here and always looking.”
“It’s not at all difficult.” She rose to the challenge. “I can tell you everything about thatmorning. I know when Mrs. Crab30 came and when she left.”
“That’s the daily cleaning woman, is it?”
“Yes. She scuttles31, just like a crab. She’s got a little boy. Sometimes she brings him with her,but she didn’t that day. And then Miss Pebmarsh goes out about ten o’clock. She goes to teachchildren at a blind school. Mrs. Crab goes away about twelve. Sometimes she has a parcel with herthat she didn’t have when she came. Bits of butter, I expect, and cheese, because Miss Pebmarshcan’t see. I know particularly well what happened that day because you see Ingrid and I werehaving a little quarrel so she wouldn’t talk to me. I’m teaching her English and she wanted toknow how to say ‘until we meet again.’ She had to tell it me in German. Auf Wiedersehen. I knowthat because I once went to Switzerland and people said that there. And they said Grüss Gott, too.
That’s rude if you say it in English.”
“So what did you tell Ingrid to say?”
Geraldine began to laugh a deep malicious32 chuckle33. She started to speak but her chucklesprevented her, but at last she got it out.
“I told her to say ‘Get the hell out of here!’ So she said it to Miss Bulstrode next door and MissBulstrode was furious. So Ingrid found out and was very cross with me and we didn’t makefriends until nearly teatime the next day.”
I digested this information.
“So you concentrated on your opera glasses.”
Geraldine nodded.
“So that’s how I know Mr. Curry didn’t go in by the front door. I think perhaps he got insomehow in the night and hid in an attic34. Do you think that’s likely?”
“I suppose anything really is possible,” I said, “but it doesn’t seem to me very probable.”
“No,” said Geraldine, “he would have got hungry, wouldn’t he? And he couldn’t have askedMiss Pebmarsh for breakfast, not if he was hiding from her.”
“And nobody came to the house?” I said. “Nobody at all? Nobody in a car—a tradesman—callers?”
“The grocer comes Mondays and Thursdays,” said Geraldine, “and the milk comes at half pasteight in the morning.”
The child was a positive encyclopaedia35.
“The cauliflowers and things Miss Pebmarsh buys herself. Nobody called at all except thelaundry. It was a new laundry,” she added.
“A new laundry?”
“Yes. It’s usually the Southern Downs Laundry. Most people have the Southern Downs. It wasa new laundry that day—the Snowflake Laundry. I’ve never seen the Snowflake Laundry. Theymust have just started.”
I fought hard to keep any undue36 interest out of my voice. I didn’t want to start her romancing.
“Did it deliver laundry or call for it?” I asked.
“Deliver it,” said Geraldine. “In a great big basket, too. Much bigger than the usual one.”
“Did Miss Pebmarsh take it in?”
“No, of course not, she’d gone out again.”
“What time was this, Geraldine?”
“1:35 exactly,” said Geraldine. “I wrote it down,” she added proudly.
She motioned towards a small notebook and opening it pointed37 with a rather dirty forefinger38 toan entry. 1:35 laundry came. No. 19.
“You ought to be at Scotland Yard,” I said.
“Do they have women detectives? I’d quite like that. I don’t mean policewomen. I thinkpolicewomen are silly.”
“You haven’t told me exactly what happened when the laundry came.”
“Nothing happened,” said Geraldine. “The driver got down, opened the van, took out this basketand staggered along round the side of the house to the back door. I expect he couldn’t get in. MissPebmarsh probably locks it, so he probably left it there and came back.”
“What did he look like?”
“Just ordinary,” said Geraldine.
“Like me?” I asked.
“Oh, no, much older than you,” said Geraldine, “but I didn’t really see him properly because hedrove up to the house—this way.” She pointed to the right. “He drew up in front of 19 although hewas on the wrong side of the road. But it doesn’t matter in a street like this. And then he went inthrough the gate bent39 over the basket. I could only see the back of his head and when he came outagain he was rubbing his face. I expect he found it a bit hot and trying, carrying that basket.”
“And then he drove off again?”
“Yes. Why do you think it so interesting?”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said. “I thought perhaps he might have seen something interesting.”
Ingrid flung the door open. She was wheeling a trolley40.
“We eat dinner now,” she said, nodding brightly.
“Goody,” said Geraldine, “I’m starving.”
I got up.
“I must be going now,” I said. “Good-bye, Geraldine.”
“Good-bye. What about this thing?” She picked up the fruit knife. “It’s not mine.” Her voicebecame wistful. “I wish it were.”
“It looks as though it’s nobody’s in particular, doesn’t it?”
“Would that make it treasure trove41, or whatever it is?”
“Something of the kind,” I said. “I think you’d better hang on to it. That is, hang on to it untilsomeone else claims it. But I don’t think,” I said truthfully, “that anybody will.”
“Get me an apple, Ingrid,” said Geraldine.
“Apple?”
“Pomme! Apfel!”
She did her linguistic42 best. I left them to it.
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1
narrative
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n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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2
smear
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v.涂抹;诽谤,玷污;n.污点;诽谤,污蔑 | |
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3
drawn
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v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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exclamation
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n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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5
heartily
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adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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alacrity
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n.敏捷,轻快,乐意 | |
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penetrating
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adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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8
bulging
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膨胀; 凸出(部); 打气; 折皱 | |
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9
promptly
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adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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10
dealing
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n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
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11
logic
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n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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onset
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n.进攻,袭击,开始,突然开始 | |
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converse
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vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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14
diminution
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n.减少;变小 | |
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15
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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16
kudos
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n.荣誉,名声 | |
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devastating
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adj.毁灭性的,令人震惊的,强有力的 | |
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18
treacle
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n.糖蜜 | |
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19
tart
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adj.酸的;尖酸的,刻薄的;n.果馅饼;淫妇 | |
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20
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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21
harry
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vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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22
fixed
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adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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23
bullies
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n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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24
fervently
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adv.热烈地,热情地,强烈地 | |
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delicacy
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n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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curry
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n.咖哩粉,咖哩饭菜;v.用咖哩粉调味,用马栉梳,制革 | |
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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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28
reassuringly
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ad.安心,可靠 | |
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29
crossword
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n.纵横字谜,纵横填字游戏 | |
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30
crab
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n.螃蟹,偏航,脾气乖戾的人,酸苹果;vi.捕蟹,偏航,发牢骚;vt.使偏航,发脾气 | |
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31
scuttles
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n.天窗( scuttle的名词复数 )v.使船沉没( scuttle的第三人称单数 );快跑,急走 | |
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malicious
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adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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chuckle
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vi./n.轻声笑,咯咯笑 | |
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attic
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n.顶楼,屋顶室 | |
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encyclopaedia
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n.百科全书 | |
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undue
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adj.过分的;不适当的;未到期的 | |
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37
pointed
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adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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38
forefinger
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n.食指 | |
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39
bent
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n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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trolley
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n.手推车,台车;无轨电车;有轨电车 | |
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trove
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n.被发现的东西,收藏的东西 | |
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linguistic
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adj.语言的,语言学的 | |
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