THE CASE OF THE CARETAKER
“ W ell,” demanded Doctor Haydock of his patient. “And how goes it today?”
Miss Marple smiled at him wanly1 from pillows.
“I suppose, really, that I’m better,” she admitted, “but I feel so terribly depressed2. I can’t help feeling how muchbetter it would have been if I had died. After all, I’m an old woman. Nobody wants me or cares about me.”
Doctor Haydock interrupted with his usual brusqueness. “Yes, yes, typical after-reaction of this type of flu. Whatyou need is something to take you out of yourself. A mental tonic3.”
Miss Marple sighed and shook her head.
“And what’s more,” continued Doctor Haydock, “I’ve brought my medicine with me!”
He tossed a long envelope on to the bed.
“Just the thing for you. The kind of puzzle that is right up your street.”
“A puzzle?” Miss Marple looked interested.
“Literary effort of mine,” said the doctor, blushing a little. “Tried to make a regular story of it. ‘He said,’ ‘shesaid,’ ‘the girl thought,’ etc. Facts of the story are true.”
“But why a puzzle?” asked Miss Marple.
Doctor Haydock grinned. “Because the interpretation4 is up to you. I want to see if you’re as clever as you alwaysmake out.”
With that Parthian shot he departed.
Miss Marple picked up the manuscript and began to read.
“And where is the bride?” asked Miss Harmon genially5.
The village was all agog6 to see the rich and beautiful young wife that Harry7 Laxton had brought back fromabroad. There was a general indulgent feeling that Harry—wicked young scapegrace—had had all the luck.
Everyone had always felt indulgent towards Harry. Even the owners of windows that had suffered from hisindiscriminate use of a catapult had found their indignation dissipated by young Harry’s abject8 expression ofregret. He had broken windows, robbed orchards9, poached rabbits, and later had run into debt, got entangledwith the local tobacconist’s daughter — been disentangled and sent off to Africa — and the village asrepresented by various ageing spinsters had murmured indulgently. “Ah, well! Wild oats! He’ll settle down!”
And now, sure enough, the prodigal10 had returned—not in affliction, but in triumph. Harry Laxton had“made good” as the saying goes. He had pulled himself together, worked hard, and had finally met andsuccessfully wooed a young Anglo-French girl who was the possessor of a considerable fortune.
Harry might have lived in London, or purchased an estate in some fashionable hunting county, but hepreferred to come back to the part of the world that was home to him. And there, in the most romantic way, hepurchased the derelict estate in the dower house of which he had passed his childhood.
Kingsdean House had been unoccupied for nearly seventy years. It had gradually fallen into decay andabandon. An elderly caretaker and his wife lived in the one habitable corner of it. It was a vast,unprepossessing grandiose11 mansion12, the gardens overgrown with rank vegetation and the trees hemming14 it inlike some gloomy enchanter’s den13.
The dower house was a pleasant, unpretentious house and had been let for a long term of years to MajorLaxton, Harry’s father. As a boy, Harry had roamed over the Kingsdean estate and knew every inch of thetangled woods, and the old house itself had always fascinated him.
Major Laxton had died some years ago, so it might have been thought that Harry would have had no ties tobring him back—nevertheless it was to the home of his boyhood that Harry brought his bride. The ruined oldKingsdean House was pulled down. An army of builders and contractors15 swooped16 down upon the place, and inalmost a miraculously17 short space of time—so marvellously does wealth tell—the new house rose white andgleaming among the trees.
Next came a posse of gardeners and after them a procession of furniture vans.
The house was ready. Servants arrived. Lastly, a costly18 limousine19 deposited Harry and Mrs. Harry at thefront door.
The village rushed to call, and Mrs. Price, who owned the largest house, and who considered herself tolead society in the place, sent out cards of invitation for a party “to meet the bride.”
It was a great event. Several ladies had new frocks for the occasion. Everyone was excited, curious,anxious to see this fabulous20 creature. They said it was all so like a fairy story!
Miss Harmon, weather-beaten, hearty21 spinster, threw out her question as she squeezed her way through thecrowded drawing room door. Little Miss Brent, a thin, acidulated spinster, fluttered out information.
“Oh, my dear, quite charming. Such pretty manners. And quite young. Really, you know, it makes one feelquite envious22 to see someone who has everything like that. Good looks and money and breeding—mostdistinguished, nothing in the least common about her—and dear Harry so devoted23!”
“Ah,” said Miss Harmon, “it’s early days yet!”
Miss Brent’s thin nose quivered appreciatively. “Oh, my dear, do you really think—”
“We all know what Harry is,” said Miss Harmon.
“We know what he was! But I expect now—”
“Ah,” said Miss Harmon, “men are always the same. Once a gay deceiver, always a gay deceiver. I knowthem.”
“Dear, dear. Poor young thing.” Miss Brent looked much happier. “Yes, I expect she’ll have trouble withhim. Someone ought really to warn her. I wonder if she’s heard anything of the old story?”
“It seems so very unfair,” said Miss Brent, “that she should know nothing. So awkward. Especially withonly the one chemist’s shop in the village.”
For the erstwhile tobacconist’s daughter was now married to Mr. Edge, the chemist.
“It would be so much nicer,” said Miss Brent, “if Mrs. Laxton were to deal with Boots in Much Benham.”
“I dare say,” said Miss Harmon, “that Harry Laxton will suggest that himself.”
And again a significant look passed between them.
“But I certainly think,” said Miss Harmon, “that she ought to know.”
“Beasts!” said Clarice Vane indignantly to her uncle, Doctor Haydock. “Absolute beasts some people are.”
He looked at her curiously24.
She was a tall, dark girl, handsome, warmhearted and impulsive25. Her big brown eyes were alight now withindignation as she said, “All these cats—saying things—hinting things.”
“About Harry Laxton?”
“Yes, about his affair with the tobacconist’s daughter.”
“Oh, that!” The doctor shrugged26 his shoulders. “A great many young men have affairs of that kind.”
“Of course they do. And it’s all over. So why harp27 on it? And bring it up years after? It’s like ghoulsfeasting on dead bodies.”
“I dare say, my dear, it does seem like that to you. But you see, they have very little to talk about downhere, and so I’m afraid they do tend to dwell upon past scandals. But I’m curious to know why it upsets you somuch?”
Clarice Vane bit her lip and flushed. She said, in a curiously muffled28 voice. “They—they look so happy.
The Laxtons, I mean. They’re young and in love, and it’s all so lovely for them. I hate to think of it beingspoiled by whispers and hints and innuendoes29 and general beastliness.”
“H’m. I see.”
Clarice went on. “He was talking to me just now. He’s so happy and eager and excited and—yes, thrilled—at having got his heart’s desire and rebuilt Kingsdean. He’s like a child about it all. And she—well, I don’tsuppose anything has ever gone wrong in her whole life. She’s always had everything. You’ve seen her. Whatdid you think of her?”
The doctor did not answer at once. For other people, Louise Laxton might be an object of envy. A spoileddarling of fortune. To him she had brought only the refrain of a popular song heard many years ago, Poor littlerich girl—
A small, delicate figure, with flaxen hair curled rather stiffly round her face and big, wistful blue eyes.
Louise was drooping30 a little. The long stream of congratulations had tired her. She was hoping it mightsoon be time to go. Perhaps, even now, Harry might say so. She looked at him sideways. So tall andbroadshouldered with his eager pleasure in this horrible, dull party.
Poor little rich girl—
“Ooph!” It was a sigh of relief.
Harry turned to look at his wife amusedly. They were driving away from the party.
She said, “Darling, what a frightful31 party!”
Harry laughed. “Yes, pretty terrible. Never mind, my sweet. It had to be done, you know. All these oldpussies knew me when I lived here as a boy. They’d have been terribly disappointed not to have got a look atyou close up.”
Louise made a grimace32. She said, “Shall we have to see a lot of them?”
“What? Oh, no. They’ll come and make ceremonious calls with card cases, and you’ll return the calls andthen you needn’t bother anymore. You can have your own friends down or whatever you like.”
Louise said, after a minute or two, “Isn’t there anyone amusing living down here?”
“Oh, yes. There’s the County, you know. Though you may find them a bit dull, too. Mostly interested inbulbs and dogs and horses. You’ll ride, of course. You’ll enjoy that. There’s a horse over at Eglinton I’d likeyou to see. A beautiful animal, perfectly33 trained, no vice34 in him but plenty of spirit.”
The car slowed down to take the turn into the gates of Kingsdean. Harry wrenched35 the wheel and swore asa grotesque36 figure sprang up in the middle of the road and he only just managed to avoid it. It stood there,shaking a fist and shouting after them.
Louise clutched his arm. “Who’s that—that horrible old woman?”
Harry’s brow was black. “That’s old Murgatroyd. She and her husband were caretakers in the old house.
They were there for nearly thirty years.”
“Why does she shake her fist at you?”
Harry’s face got red. “She—well, she resented the house being pulled down. And she got the sack, ofcourse. Her husband’s been dead two years. They say she got a bit queer after he died.”
“Is she—she isn’t—starving?”
Louise’s ideas were vague and somewhat melodramatic. Riches prevented you coming into contact withreality.
Harry was outraged37. “Good Lord, Louise, what an idea! I pensioned her off, of course—and handsomely,too! Found her a new cottage and everything.”
Louise asked, bewildered, “Then why does she mind?”
Harry was frowning, his brows drawn38 together. “Oh, how should I know? Craziness! She loved the house.”
“But it was a ruin, wasn’t it?”
“Of course it was—crumbling to pieces—roof leaking—more or less unsafe. All the same I suppose itmeant something to her. She’d been there a long time. Oh, I don’t know! The old devil’s cracked, I think.”
Louise said uneasily, “She—I think she cursed us. Oh, Harry, I wish she hadn’t.”
It seemed to Louise that her new home was tainted39 and poisoned by the malevolent40 figure of one crazy oldwoman. When she went out in the car, when she rode, when she walked out with the dogs, there was always thesame figure waiting. Crouched41 down on herself, a battered42 hat over wisps of iron-grey hair, and the slowmuttering of imprecations.
Louise came to believe that Harry was right—the old woman was mad. Nevertheless that did not makethings easier. Mrs. Murgatroyd never actually came to the house, nor did she use definite threats, nor offerviolence. Her squatting43 figure remained always just outside the gates. To appeal to the police would have beenuseless and, in any case, Harry Laxton was averse44 to that course of action. It would, he said, arouse localsympathy for the old brute45. He took the matter more easily than Louise did.
“Don’t worry about it, darling. She’ll get tired of this silly cursing business. Probably she’s only trying iton.”
“She isn’t, Harry. She—she hates us! I can feel it. She—she’s illwishing us.”
“She’s not a witch, darling, although she may look like one! Don’t be morbid46 about it all.”
Louise was silent. Now that the first excitement of settling in was over, she felt curiously lonely and at aloose end. She had been used to life in London and the Riviera. She had no knowledge of or taste for Englishcountry life. She was ignorant of gardening, except for the final act of “doing the flowers.” She did not reallycare for dogs. She was bored by such neighbours as she met. She enjoyed riding best, sometimes with Harry,sometimes, when he was busy about the estate, by herself. She hacked47 through the woods and lanes, enjoyingthe easy paces of the beautiful horse that Harry had bought for her. Yet even Prince Hal, most sensitive ofchestnut steeds, was wont48 to shy and snort as he carried his mistress past the huddled49 figure of a malevolentold woman.
One day Louise took her courage in both hands. She was out walking. She had passed Mrs. Murgatroyd,pretending not to notice her, but suddenly she swerved50 back and went right up to her. She said, a littlebreathlessly, “What is it? What’s the matter? What do you want?”
The old woman blinked at her. She had a cunning, dark gypsy face, with wisps of iron-grey hair, andbleared, suspicious eyes. Louise wondered if she drank.
She spoke52 in a whining53 and yet threatening voice. “What do I want, you ask? What, indeed! That which hasbeen took away from me. Who turned me out of Kingsdean House? I’d lived there, girl and woman, for near onforty years. It was a black deed to turn me out and it’s black bad luck it’ll bring to you and him!”
Louise said, “You’ve got a very nice cottage and—”
She broke off. The old woman’s arms flew up. She screamed, “What’s the good of that to me? It’s my ownplace I want and my own fire as I sat beside all them years. And as for you and him, I’m telling you there willbe no happiness for you in your new fine house. It’s the black sorrow will be upon you! Sorrow and death andmy curse. May your fair face rot.”
Louise turned away and broke into a little stumbling run. She thought, I must get away from here! We mustsell the house! We must go away.
At the moment, such a solution seemed easy to her. But Harry’s utter incomprehension took her back. Heexclaimed, “Leave here? Sell the house? Because of a crazy old woman’s threats? You must be mad.”
“No, I’m not. But she—she frightens me, I know something will happen.”
Harry Laxton said grimly, “Leave Mrs. Murgatroyd to me. I’ll settle her!”
A friendship had sprung up between Clarice Vane and young Mrs. Laxton. The two girls were much of an age,though dissimilar both in character and in tastes. In Clarice’s company, Louise found reassurance54. Claricewas so self-reliant, so sure of herself. Louise mentioned the matter of Mrs. Murgatroyd and her threats, butClarice seemed to regard the matter as more annoying than frightening.
“It’s so stupid, that sort of thing,” she said. “And really very annoying for you.”
“You know, Clarice, I—I feel quite frightened sometimes. My heart gives the most awful jumps.”
“Nonsense, you mustn’t let a silly thing like that get you down. She’ll soon tire of it.”
She was silent for a minute or two. Clarice said, “What’s the matter?”
Louise paused for a minute, then her answer came with a rush. “I hate this place! I hate being here. Thewoods and this house, and the awful silence at night, and the queer noise owls55 make. Oh, and the people andeverything.”
“The people. What people?”
“The people in the village. Those prying56, gossiping old maids.”
Clarice said sharply, “What have they been saying?”
“I don’t know. Nothing particular. But they’ve got nasty minds. When you’ve talked to them you feel youwouldn’t trust anybody—not anybody at all.”
Clarice said harshly, “Forget them. They’ve nothing to do but gossip. And most of the muck they talk theyjust invent.”
Louise said, “I wish we’d never come here. But Harry adores it so.” Her voice softened57.
Clarice thought, How she adores him. She said abruptly58, “I must go now.”
“I’ll send you back in the car. Come again soon.”
Clarice nodded. Louise felt comforted by her new friend’s visit. Harry was pleased to find her morecheerful and from then on urged her to have Clarice often to the house.
Then one day he said, “Good news for you, darling.”
“Oh, what?”
“I’ve fixed59 the Murgatroyd. She’s got a son in America, you know. Well, I’ve arranged for her to go outand join him. I’ll pay her passage.”
“Oh, Harry, how wonderful. I believe I might get to like Kingsdean after all.”
“Get to like it? Why, it’s the most wonderful place in the world!”
Louise gave a little shiver. She could not rid herself of her superstitious60 fear so easily.
If the ladies of St. Mary Mead61 had hoped for the pleasure of imparting information about her husband’s past tothe bride, this pleasure was denied them by Harry Laxton’s own prompt action.
Miss Harmon and Clarice Vane were both in Mr. Edge’s shop, the one buying mothballs and the other apacket of boracic, when Harry Laxton and his wife came in.
After greeting the two ladies, Harry turned to the counter and was just demanding a toothbrush when hestopped in mid-speech and exclaimed heartily62, “Well, well, just see who’s here! Bella, I do declare.”
Mrs. Edge, who had hurried out from the back parlour to attend to the congestion63 of business, beamedback cheerfully at him, showing her big white teeth. She had been a dark, handsome girl and was still areasonably handsome woman, though she had put on weight, and the lines of her face had coarsened; but herlarge brown eyes were full of warmth as she answered, “Bella, it is, Mr. Harry, and pleased to see you after allthese years.”
Harry turned to his wife. “Bella’s an old flame of mine, Louise,” he said. “Head-over-heels in love withher, wasn’t I, Bella?”
“That’s what you say,” said Mrs. Edge.
Louise laughed. She said, “My husband’s very happy seeing all his old friends again.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Edge, “we haven’t forgotten you, Mr. Harry. Seems like a fairy tale to think of youmarried and building up a new house instead of that ruined old Kingsdean House.”
“You look very well and blooming,” said Harry, and Mrs. Edge laughed and said there was nothing wrongwith her and what about that toothbrush?
Clarice, watching the baffled look on Miss Harmon’s face, said to herself exultantly64, Oh, well-done, Harry.
You’ve spiked65 their guns.
Doctor Haydock said abruptly to his niece, “What’s all this nonsense about old Mrs. Murgatroyd hangingabout Kingsdean and shaking her fist and cursing the new regime?”
“It isn’t nonsense. It’s quite true. It’s upset Louise a good deal.”
“Tell her she needn’t worry—when the Murgatroyds were caretakers they never stopped grumbling66 aboutthe place—they only stayed because Murgatroyd drank and couldn’t get another job.”
“I’ll tell her,” said Clarice doubtfully, “but I don’t think she’ll believe you. The old woman fairly screamswith rage.”
“Always used to be fond of Harry as a boy. I can’t understand it.”
Clarice said, “Oh, well—they’ll be rid of her soon. Harry’s paying her passage to America.”
Three days later, Louise was thrown from her horse and killed.
Two men in a baker’s van were witnesses of the accident. They saw Louise ride out of the gates, saw theold woman spring up and stand in the road waving her arms and shouting, saw the horse start, swerve51, andthen bolt madly down the road, flinging Louise Laxton over his head.
One of them stood over the unconscious figure, not knowing what to do, while the other rushed to the houseto get help.
Harry Laxton came running out, his face ghastly. They took off a door of the van and carried her on it tothe house. She died without regaining67 consciousness and before the doctor arrived.
(End of Doctor Haydock’s manuscript.)
When Doctor Haydock arrived the following day, he was pleased to note that there was a pink flush in Miss Marple’scheek and decidedly more animation68 in her manner.
“Well,” he said, “what’s the verdict?”
“What’s the problem, Doctor Haydock?” countered Miss Marple.
“Oh, my dear lady, do I have to tell you that?”
“I suppose,” said Miss Marple, “that it’s the curious conduct of the caretaker. Why did she behave in that very oddway? People do mind being turned out of their old homes. But it wasn’t her home. In fact, she used to complain andgrumble while she was there. Yes, it certainly looks very fishy69. What became of her, by the way?”
“Did a bunk70 to Liverpool. The accident scared her. Thought she’d wait there for her boat.”
“All very convenient for somebody,” said Miss Marple. “Yes, I think the ‘Problem of the Caretaker’s Conduct’
can be solved easily enough. Bribery71, was it not?”
“That’s your solution?”
“Well, if it wasn’t natural for her to behave in that way, she must have been ‘putting on an act’ as people say, andthat means that somebody paid her to do what she did.”
“And you know who that somebody was?”
“Oh, I think so. Money again, I’m afraid. And I’ve always noticed that gentlemen always tend to admire the sametype.”
“Now I’m out of my depth.”
“No, no, it all hangs together. Harry Laxton admired Bella Edge, a dark, vivacious72 type. Your niece Clarice wasthe same. But the poor little wife was quite a different type—fair-haired and clinging—not his type at all. So he musthave married her for her money. And murdered her for her money, too!”
“You use the word ‘murder’?”
“Well, he sounds the right type. Attractive to women and quite unscrupulous. I suppose he wanted to keep hiswife’s money and marry your niece. He may have been seen talking to Mrs. Edge. But I don’t fancy he was attachedto her anymore. Though I dare say he made the poor woman think he was, for ends of his own. He soon had her wellunder his thumb, I fancy.”
“How exactly did he murder her, do you think?”
Miss Marple stared ahead of her for some minutes with dreamy blue eyes.
“It was very well-timed—with the baker’s van as witness. They could see the old woman and, of course, they’dput down the horse’s fright to that. But I should imagine, myself, that an air gun, or perhaps a catapult. Yes, just as thehorse came through the gates. The horse bolted, of course, and Mrs. Laxton was thrown.”
She paused, frowning.
“The fall might have killed her. But he couldn’t be sure of that. And he seems the sort of man who would lay hisplans carefully and leave nothing to chance. After all, Mrs. Edge could get him something suitable without herhusband knowing. Otherwise, why would Harry bother with her? Yes, I think he had some powerful drug handy, thatcould be administered before you arrived. After all, if a woman is thrown from her horse and has serious injuries anddies without recovering consciousness, well—a doctor wouldn’t normally be suspicious, would he? He’d put it downto shock or something.”
Doctor Haydock nodded.
“Why did you suspect?” asked Miss Marple.
“It wasn’t any particular cleverness on my part,” said Doctor Haydock. “It was just the trite73, well-known fact that amurderer is so pleased with his cleverness that he doesn’t take proper precautions. I was just saying a few consolatorywords to the bereaved74 husband—and feeling damned sorry for the fellow, too—when he flung himself down on thesettee to do a bit of playacting and a hypodermic syringe fell out of his pocket.
“He snatched it up and looked so scared that I began to think. Harry Laxton didn’t drug; he was in perfect health;what was he doing with a hypodermic syringe? I did the autopsy75 with a view to certain possibilities. I foundstrophanthin. The rest was easy. There was strophanthin in Laxton’s possession, and Bella Edge, questioned by thepolice, broke down and admitted to having got it for him. And finally old Mrs. Murgatroyd confessed that it was HarryLaxton who had put her up to the cursing stunt76.”
“And your niece got over it?”
“Yes, she was attracted by the fellow, but it hadn’t gone far.”
The doctor picked up his manuscript.
“Full marks to you, Miss Marple—and full marks to me for my prescription77. You’re looking almost yourselfagain.”
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wanly
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| adv.虚弱地；苍白地，无血色地 | |
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depressed
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tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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interpretation
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genially
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agog
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harry
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abject
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orchards
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prodigal
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grandiose
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mansion
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hemming
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contractors
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miraculously
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costly
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limousine
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fabulous
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curiously
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impulsive
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shrugged
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harp
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muffled
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| n.影射的话( innuendo的名词复数 )；讽刺的话；含沙射影；暗讽 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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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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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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hacked
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| 生气 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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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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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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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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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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mead
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| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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bribery
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| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
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vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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trite
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| adj.陈腐的 | |
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bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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autopsy
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| n.尸体解剖；尸检 | |
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stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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