T he name of Lucy Eyelesbarrow had already made itself felt in certain circles.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow was thirty-two. She had taken a First in Mathematics at Oxford1, was acknowledged to have abrilliant mind and was confidently expected to take up a distinguished2 academic career.
But Lucy Eyelesbarrow, in addition to scholarly brilliance3, had a core of good sound common sense. She could notfail to observe that a life of academic distinction was singularly ill rewarded. She had no desire whatever to teach andshe took pleasure in contacts with minds much less brilliant than her own. In short, she had a taste for people, all sortsof people—and not the same people the whole time. She also, quite frankly4, liked money. To gain money one mustexploit shortage.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow hit at once upon a very serious shortage—the shortage of any kind of skilled domestic labour.
To the amazement5 of her friends and fellow-scholars, Lucy Eyelesbarrow entered the field of domestic labour.
Her success was immediate6 and assured. By now, after a lapse7 of some years, she was known all over the BritishIsles. It was quite customary for wives to say joyfully8 to husbands, “It will be all right. I can go with you to the States.
I’ve got Lucy Eyelesbarrow!” The point of Lucy Eyelesbarrow was that once she came into a house, all worry, anxietyand hard work went out of it. Lucy Eyelesbarrow did everything, saw to everything, arranged everything. She wasunbelievably competent in every conceivable sphere. She looked after elderly parents, accepted the care of youngchildren, nursed the sickly, cooked divinely, got on well with any old crusted servants there might happen to be (thereusually weren’t), was tactful with impossible people, soothed10 habitual11 drunkards, was wonderful with dogs. Best of allshe never minded what she did. She scrubbed the kitchen floor, dug in the garden, cleaned up dog messes, and carriedcoals!
One of her rules was never to accept an engagement for any long length of time. A fortnight was her usual period—a month at most under exceptional circumstances. For that fortnight you had to pay the earth! But, during thatfortnight, your life was heaven. You could relax completely, go abroad, stay at home, do as you pleased, secure that allwas going well on the home front in Lucy Eyelesbarrow’s capable hands.
Naturally the demand for her services was enormous. She could have booked herself up if she chose for about threeyears ahead. She had been offered enormous sums to go as a permanency. But Lucy had no intention of being apermanency, nor would she book herself for more than six months ahead. And within that period, unknown to herclamouring clients, she always kept certain free periods which enabled her either to take a short luxurious12 holiday(since she spent nothing otherwise and was handsomely paid and kept) or to accept any position at short notice thathappened to take her fancy, either by reason of its character, or because she “liked the people.” Since she was now atliberty to pick and choose amongst the vociferous13 claimants for her services, she went very largely by personal liking14.
Mere15 riches would not buy you the services of Lucy Eyelesbarrow. She could pick and choose and she did pick andchoose. She enjoyed her life very much and found in it a continual source of entertainment.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow read and reread the letter from Miss Marple. She had made Miss Marple’s acquaintance twoyears ago when her services had been retained by Raymond West, the novelist, to go and look after his old aunt whowas recovering from pneumonia16. Lucy had accepted the job and had gone down to St. Mary Mead17. She had liked MissMarple very much. As for Miss Marple, once she had caught a glimpse out of her bedroom window of LucyEyelesbarrow really trenching for sweet peas in the proper way, she had leaned back on her pillows with a sigh ofrelief, eaten the tempting18 little meals that Lucy Eyelesbarrow brought to her, and listened, agreeably surprised, to thetales told by her elderly irascible maidservant of how “I taught that Miss Eyelesbarrow a crochet19 pattern what she’dnever heard of! Proper grateful, she was.” And had surprised her doctor by the rapidity of her convalescence20.
Miss Marple wrote asking if Miss Eyelesbarrow could undertake a certain task for her—rather an unusual one.
Perhaps Miss Eyelesbarrow could arrange a meeting at which they could discuss the matter.
Lucy Eyelesbarrow frowned for a moment or two as she considered. She was in reality fully9 booked up. But theword unusual, and her recollection of Miss Marple’s personality, carried the day and she rang up Miss Marple straightaway explaining that she could not come down to St. Mary Mead as she was at the moment working, but that she wasfree from 2 to 4 on the following afternoon and could meet Miss Marple anywhere in London. She suggested her ownclub, a rather nondescript establishment which had the advantage of having several small dark writing rooms whichwere usually empty.
Miss Marple accepted the suggestion and on the following day the meeting took place.
Greetings were exchanged; Lucy Eyelesbarrow led her guest to the gloomiest of the writing rooms, and said: “I’mafraid I’m rather booked up just at present, but perhaps you’ll tell me what it is you want me to undertake?”
“It’s very simple, really,” said Miss Marple. “Unusual, but simple. I want you to find a body.”
For a moment the suspicion crossed Lucy’s mind that Miss Marple was mentally unhinged, but she rejected theidea. Miss Marple was eminently21 sane22. She meant exactly what she had said.
“What kind of a body?” asked Lucy Eyelesbarrow with admirable composure.
“A woman’s body,” said Miss Marple. “The body of a woman who was murdered—strangled actually—in a train.”
Lucy’s eyebrows23 rose slightly.
“Well, that’s certainly unusual. Tell me about it.”
Miss Marple told her. Lucy Eyelesbarrow listened attentively24, without interrupting. At the end she said:
“It all depends on what your friend saw—or thought she saw—?”
She left the sentence unfinished with a question in it.
“Elspeth McGillicuddy doesn’t imagine things,” said Miss Marple. “That’s why I’m relying on what she said. If ithad been Dorothy Cartwright, now—it would have been quite a different matter. Dorothy always has a good story, andquite often believes it herself, and there is usually a kind of basis of truth but certainly no more. But Elspeth is thekind of woman who finds it very hard to make herself believe that anything at all extraordinary or out of the way couldhappen. She’s almost unsuggestible, rather like granite25.”
“I see,” said Lucy thoughtfully. “Well, let’s accept it all. Where do I come in?”
“I was very much impressed by you,” said Miss Marple, “and you see, I haven’t got the physical strengthnowadays to get about and do things.”
“You want me to make inquiries26? That sort of thing? But won’t the police have done all that? Or do you think theyhave been just slack?”
“Oh, no,” said Miss Marple. “They haven’t been slack. It’s just that I’ve got a theory about the woman’s body. It’sgot to be somewhere. If it wasn’t found in the train, then it must have been pushed or thrown out of the train—but ithasn’t been discovered anywhere on the line. So I travelled down the same way to see if there was anywhere where thebody could have been thrown off the train and yet wouldn’t have been found on the line—and there was. The railwayline makes a big curve before getting into Brackhampton, on the edge of a high embankment. If a body were thrownout there, when the train was leaning at an angle, I think it would pitch right down the embankment.”
“But surely it would still be found—even there?”
“Oh, yes. It would have to be taken away… But we’ll come to that presently. Here’s the place—on this map?”
Lucy bent27 to study where Miss Marple’s finger pointed28.
“It is right in the outskirts29 of Brackhampton now,” said Miss Marple, “but originally it was a country house withextensive park and grounds and it’s still there, untouched—ringed round with building estates and small suburbanhouses. It’s called Rutherford Hall. It was built by a man called Crackenthorpe, a very rich manufacturer, in 1884. Theoriginal Crackenthorpe’s son, an elderly man, is living there still with, I understand, a daughter. The railway encirclesquite half of the property.”
“And you want me to do—what?”
Miss Marple replied promptly30.
“I want you to get a post there. Everyone is crying out for efficient domestic help— I should not imagine it wouldbe difficult.”
“No, I don’t suppose it would be difficult.”
“I understand that Mr. Crackenthorpe is said locally to be somewhat of a miser31. If you accept a low salary, I willmake it up to the proper figure which should, I think, be rather more than the current rate.”
“Because of the difficulty?”
“Not the difficulty so much as the danger. It might, you know, be dangerous. It’s only right to warn you of that.”
“I don’t know,” said Lucy pensively32, “that the idea of danger would deter33 me.”
“I didn’t think it would,” said Miss Marple. “You’re not that kind of person.”
“I dare say you thought it might even attract me? I’ve encountered very little danger in my life. But do you reallybelieve it might be dangerous?”
“Somebody,” Miss Marple pointed out, “has committed a very successful crime. There has been no hue-and-cry,no real suspicion. Two elderly ladies have told a rather improbable story, the police have investigated it and foundnothing in it. So everything is nice and quiet. I don’t think that this somebody, whoever he may be, will care about thematter being raked up—especially if you are successful.”
“What do I look for exactly?”
“Any signs along the embankment, a scrap34 of clothing, broken bushes—that kind of thing.”
Lucy nodded.
“And then?”
“I shall be quite close at hand,” said Miss Marple. “An old maidservant of mine, my faithful Florence, lives inBrackhampton. She has looked after her old parents for years. They are now both dead, and she takes in lodgers—allmost respectable people. She has arranged for me to have rooms with her. She will look after me most devotedly36, and Ifeel I should like to be close at hand. I would suggest that you mention you have an elderly aunt living in theneighbourhood, and that you want a post within easy distance of her, and also that you stipulate37 for a reasonableamount of spare time so that you can go and see her often.”
Again Lucy nodded.
“I was going to Taormina the day after tomorrow,” she said. “The holiday can wait. But I can only promise threeweeks. After that, I am booked up.”
“Three weeks should be ample,” said Miss Marple. “If we can’t find out anything in three weeks, we might as wellgive up the whole thing as a mare’s nest.”
Miss Marple departed, and Lucy, after a moment’s reflection, rang up a Registry Office in Brackhampton, themanageress of which she knew very well. She explained her desire for a post in the neighbourhood so as to be near her“aunt.” After turning down, with a little difficulty and a good deal of ingenuity38, several more desirable places,Rutherford Hall was mentioned.
“That sounds exactly what I want,” said Lucy firmly.
The Registry Office rang up Miss Crackenthorpe, Miss Crackenthorpe rang up Lucy.
Two days later Lucy left London en route for Rutherford Hall.
II
Driving her own small car, Lucy Eyelesbarrow drove through an imposing39 pair of vast iron gates. Just inside them waswhat had originally been a small lodge35 which now seemed completely derelict, whether through war damage, ormerely through neglect, it was difficult to be sure. A long winding40 drive led through large gloomy clumps41 ofrhododendrons up to the house. Lucy caught her breath in a slight gasp42 when she saw the house which was a kind ofminiature Windsor Castle. The stone steps in front of the door could have done with attention and the gravel43 sweepwas green with neglected weeds.
She pulled an old-fashioned wrought-iron bell, and its clamour sounded echoing away inside. A slatternly woman,wiping her hands on her apron44, opened the door and looked at her suspiciously.
“Expected, aren’t you?” she said. “Miss Somethingbarrow, she told me.”
“Quite right,” said Lucy.
The house was desperately45 cold inside. Her guide led her along a dark hall and opened a door on the right. Ratherto Lucy’s surprise, it was quite a pleasant sitting room, with books and chintz-covered chairs.
“I’ll tell her,” said the woman, and went away shutting the door after having given Lucy a look of profounddisfavour.
After a few minutes the door opened again. From the first moment Lucy decided46 that she liked EmmaCrackenthorpe.
She was a middle-aged47 woman with no very outstanding characteristics, neither good-looking nor plain, sensiblydressed in tweeds and pullover, with dark hair swept back from her forehead, steady hazel eyes and a very pleasantvoice.
She said: “Miss Eyelesbarrow?” and held out her hand.
Then she looked doubtful.
“I wonder,” she said, “if this post is really what you’re looking for? I don’t want a housekeeper48, you know, tosupervise things. I want someone to do the work.”
Lucy said that that was what most people needed.
Emma Crackenthorpe said apologetically:
“So many people, you know, seem to think that just a little light dusting will answer the case—but I can do all thelight dusting myself.”
“I quite understand,” said Lucy. “You want cooking and washing-up, and housework and stoking the boiler49. That’sall right. That’s what I do. I’m not at all afraid of work.”
“It’s a big house, I’m afraid, and inconvenient50. Of course we only live in a portion of it—my father and myself,that is. He is rather an invalid51. We live quite quietly, and there is an Aga stove. I have several brothers, but they arenot here very often. Two women come in, a Mrs. Kidder in the morning, and Mrs. Hart three days a week to dobrasses and things like that. You have your own car?”
“Yes. It can stand out in the open if there’s nowhere to put it. It’s used to it.”
“Oh, there are any amount of old stables. There’s no trouble about that.” She frowned a moment, then said,“Eyelesbarrow—rather an unusual name. Some friends of mine were telling me about a Lucy Eyelesbarrow—theKennedys?”
“Yes. I was with them in North Devon when Mrs. Kennedy was having a baby.”
Emma Crackenthorpe smiled.
“I know they said they’d never had such a wonderful time as when you were there seeing to everything. But I hadthe idea that you were terribly expensive. The sum I mentioned—”
“That’s quite all right,” said Lucy. “I want particularly, you see, to be near Brackhampton. I have an elderly aunt ina critical state of health and I want to be within easy distance of her. That’s why the salary is a secondaryconsideration. I can’t afford to do nothing. If I could be sure of having some time off most days?”
“Oh, of course. Every afternoon, till six, if you like?”
“That seems perfect.”
Miss Crackenthorpe hesitated a moment before saying: “My father is elderly and a little—difficult sometimes. Heis very keen on economy, and he says things sometimes that upset people. I wouldn’t like—”
Lucy broke in quickly:
“I’m quite used to elderly people, of all kinds,” she said. “I always manage to get on well with them.” EmmaCrackenthorpe looked relieved.
“Trouble with father!” diagnosed Lucy. “I bet he’s an old tartar.”
She was apportioned52 a large gloomy bedroom which a small electric heater did its inadequate53 best to warm, andwas shown round the house, a vast uncomfortable mansion54. As they passed a door in the hall a voice roared out:
“That you, Emma? Got the new girl there? Bring her in. I want to look at her.”
Emma flushed, glanced at Lucy apologetically.
The two women entered the room. It was richly upholstered in dark velvet55, the narrow windows let in very littlelight, and it was full of heavy mahogany Victorian furniture.
Old Mr. Crackenthorpe was stretched out in an invalid chair, a silver-headed stick by his side.
He was a big gaunt man, his flesh hanging in loose folds. He had a face rather like a bulldog, with a pugnaciouschin. He had thick dark hair flecked with grey, and small suspicious eyes.
“Let’s have a look at you, young lady.”
Lucy advanced, composed and smiling.
“There’s just one thing you’d better understand straight away. Just because we live in a big house doesn’t meanwe’re rich. We’re not rich. We live simply—do you hear?—simply! No good coming here with a lot of high-falutinideas. Cod’s as good a fish as turbot any day, and don’t you forget it. I don’t stand for waste. I live here because myfather built the house and I like it. After I’m dead they can sell it up if they want to—and I expect they will want to.
No sense of family. This house is well built—it’s solid, and we’ve got our own land around us. Keeps us private. Itwould bring in a lot if sold for building land but not while I’m alive. You won’t get me out of here until you take meout feet first.”
He glared at Lucy.
“Your home is your castle,” said Lucy.
“Laughing at me?”
“Of course not. I think it’s very exciting to have a real country place all surrounded by town.”
“Quite so. Can’t see another house from here, can you? Fields with cows in them — right in the middle ofBrackhampton. You hear the traffic a bit when the wind’s that way—but otherwise it’s still country.”
He added, without pause or change of tone, to his daughter:
“Ring up that damn’ fool of a doctor. Tell him that last medicine’s no good at all.”
Lucy and Emma retired56. He shouted after them:
“And don’t let that damned woman who sniffs57 dust in here. She’s disarranged all my books.”
Lucy asked:
“Has Mr. Crackenthorpe been an invalid long?”
Emma said, rather evasively:
“Oh, for years now… This is the kitchen.”
The kitchen was enormous. A vast kitchen range stood cold and neglected. An Aga stood demurely58 beside it.
Lucy asked times of meals and inspected the larder59. Then she said cheerfully to Emma Crackenthorpe:
“I know everything now. Don’t bother. Leave it all to me.”
Emma Crackenthorpe heaved a sigh of relief as she went up to bed that night.
“The Kennedys were quite right,” she said. “She’s wonderful.”
Lucy rose at six the next morning. She did the house, prepared vegetables, assembled, cooked and served breakfast.
With Mrs. Kidder she made the beds and at eleven o’clock they sat down to strong tea and biscuits in the kitchen.
Mollified by the fact that Lucy “had no airs about her,” and also by the strength and sweetness of the tea, Mrs. Kidderrelaxed into gossip. She was a small spare woman with a sharp eye and tight lips.
“Regular old skinflint he is. What she has to put up with! All the same, she’s not what I call down-trodden. Canhold her own all right when she has to. When the gentlemen come down she sees to it there’s something decent toeat.”
“The gentlemen?”
“Yes. Big family it was. The eldest60, Mr. Edmund, he was killed in the war. Then there’s Mr. Cedric, he livesabroad somewhere. He’s not married. Paints pictures in foreign parts. Mr. Harold’s in the City, lives in London—married an earl’s daughter. Then there’s Mr. Alfred, he’s got a nice way with him, but he’s a bit of a black-sheep, beenin trouble once or twice—and there’s Miss Edith’s husband, Mr. Bryan, ever so nice, he is—she died some years ago,but he’s always stayed one of the family, and there’s Master Alexander, Miss Edith’s little boy. He’s at school, comeshere for part of the holidays always; Miss Emma’s terribly set on him.”
Lucy digested all this information, continuing to press tea on her informant. Finally, reluctantly, Mrs. Kidder roseto her feet.
“Seem to have got along a treat, we do, this morning,” she said wonderingly. “Want me to give you a hand with thepotatoes, dear?”
“They’re all done ready.”
“Well, you are a one for getting on with things! I might as well be getting along myself as there doesn’t seemanything else to do.”
Mrs. Kidder departed and Lucy, with time on her hands, scrubbed the kitchen table which she had been longing61 todo, but which she had put off so as not to offend Mrs. Kidder whose job it properly was. Then she cleaned the silvertill it shone radiantly. She cooked lunch, cleared it away, washed it up, and at two-thirty was ready to start exploration.
She had set out the tea things ready on a tray, with sandwiches and bread and butter covered with a damp napkin tokeep them moist.
She strolled round the gardens which would be the normal thing to do. The kitchen garden was sketchily62 cultivatedwith a few vegetables. The hot- houses were in ruins. The paths everywhere were overgrown with weeds. Aherbaceous border near the house was the only thing that showed free of weeds and in good condition and Lucysuspected that that had been Emma’s hand. The gardener was a very old man, somewhat deaf, who was only making ashow of working. Lucy spoke63 to him pleasantly. He lived in a cottage adjacent to the big stableyard.
Leading out of the stableyard a back drive led through the park which was fenced off on either side of it, and undera railway arch into a small back lane.
Every few minutes a train thundered along the main line over the railway arch. Lucy watched the trains as theyslackened speed going round the sharp curve that encircled the Crackenthorpe property. She passed under the railwayarch and out into the lane. It seemed a little-used track. On the one side was the railway embankment, on the other wasa high wall which enclosed some tall factory buildings. Lucy followed the lane until it came out into a street of smallhouses. She could hear a short distance away the busy hum of main road traffic. She glanced at her watch. A womancame out of a house nearby and Lucy stopped her.
“Excuse me, can you tell me if there is a public telephone near here?”
“Post office just at the corner of the road.”
Lucy thanked her and walked along until she came to the Post Office which was a combination shop and postoffice. There was a telephone box at one side. Lucy went into it and made a call. She asked to speak to Miss Marple. Awoman’s voice spoke in a sharp bark.
“She’s resting. And I’m not going to disturb her!! She needs her rest—she’s an old lady. Who shall I say called?”
“Miss Eyelesbarrow. There’s no need to disturb her. Just tell her that I’ve arrived and everything is going on welland that I’ll let her know when I’ve any news.”
She replaced the receiver and made her way back to Rutherford Hall.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
brilliance
|
|
| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
lapse
|
|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
joyfully
|
|
| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
luxurious
|
|
| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
vociferous
|
|
| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
pneumonia
|
|
| n.肺炎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
mead
|
|
| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
tempting
|
|
| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
crochet
|
|
| n.钩针织物；v.用钩针编制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
convalescence
|
|
| n.病后康复期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
eminently
|
|
| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
granite
|
|
| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
outskirts
|
|
| n.郊外，郊区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
miser
|
|
| n.守财奴，吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
pensively
|
|
| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
deter
|
|
| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
devotedly
|
|
| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
stipulate
|
|
| vt.规定，（作为条件）讲定，保证 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
ingenuity
|
|
| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
imposing
|
|
| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
clumps
|
|
| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
gravel
|
|
| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
boiler
|
|
| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
inconvenient
|
|
| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
invalid
|
|
| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
apportioned
|
|
| vt.分摊，分配（apportion的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
inadequate
|
|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
sniffs
|
|
| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的第三人称单数 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
demurely
|
|
| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
larder
|
|
| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
sketchily
|
|
| adv.写生风格地，大略地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |