"Your muffler--I'll get it," said Constance. "Cyril, run upstairs and get father's muffler. You know the drawer."
Cyril ran. It behoved everybody, that morning, to be prompt and efficient.
"I don't need any muffler, thank you," said Samuel, coughing and smothering1 the cough.
"Oh! But, Sam--" Constance protested.
"Now please don't worry me!" said Samuel with frigid2 finality. "I've got quite enough--!" He did not finish.
Constance sighed as her husband stepped, nervous and self- important, out of the side-door into the street. It was early, not yet eight o'clock, and the shop still unopened.
"Your father couldn't wait," Constance said to Cyril when he had thundered down the stairs in his heavy schoolboy boots. "Give it to me." She went to restore the muffler to its place.
The whole house was upset, and Amy still an invalid3! Existence was disturbed; there vaguely4 seemed to be a thousand novel things to be done, and yet she could think of nothing whatever that she needed to do at that moment; so she occupied herself with the muffler. Before she reappeared Cyril had gone to school, he who was usually a laggard5. The truth was that he could no longer contain within himself a recital6 of the night, and in particular of the fact that he had been the first to hear the summons of the murderer on the window-pane. This imperious news had to be imparted to somebody, as a preliminary to the thrilling of the whole school; and Cyril had issued forth7 in search of an appreciative8 and worthy9 confidant. He was scarcely five minutes after his father.
In St. Luke's Square was a crowd of quite two hundred persons, standing10 moveless in the November mud. The body of Mrs. Daniel Povey had already been taken to the Tiger Hotel, and young Dick Povey was on his way in a covered wagonette to Pirehill Infirmary on the other side of Knype. The shop of the crime was closed, and the blinds drawn11 at the upper windows of the house. There was absolutely nothing to be seen, not even a policeman. Nevertheless the crowd stared with an extraordinary obstinate12 attentiveness13 at the fatal building in Boulton Terrace. Hypnotized by this face of bricks and mortar14, it had apparently15 forgotten all earthly ties, and, regardless of breakfast and a livelihood16, was determined17 to stare at it till the house fell down or otherwise rendered up its secret. Most of its component18 individuals wore neither overcoats nor collars, but were kept warm by a scarf round the neck and by dint19 of forcing their fingers into the furthest inch of their pockets. Then they would slowly lift one leg after the other. Starers of infirm purpose would occasionally detach themselves from the throng20 and sidle away, ashamed of their fickleness21. But reinforcements were continually arriving. And to these new-comers all that had been said in gossip had to be repeated and repeated: the same questions, the same answers, the same exclamations22, the same proverbial philosophy, the same prophecies recurred23 in all parts of the Square with an uncanny iterance. Well-dressed men spoke24 to mere25 professional loiterers; for this unparalleled and glorious sensation, whose uniqueness grew every instant more impressive, brought out the essential brotherhood26 of mankind. All had a peculiar27 feeling that the day was neither Sunday nor week- day, but some eighth day of the week. Yet in the St. Luke's Covered Market close by, the stall-keepers were preparing their stalls just as though it were Saturday, just as though a Town Councillor had not murdered his wife--at last! It was stated, and restated infinitely28, that the Povey baking had been taken over by Brindley, the second-best baker29 and confectioner, who had a stall in the market. And it was asserted, as a philosophical30 truth, and reasserted infinitely, that there would have been no sense in wasting good food.
Samuel's emergence31 stirred the multitude. But Samuel passed up the Square with a rapt expression; he might have been under an illusion, caused by the extreme gravity of his preoccupations, that he was crossing a deserted32 Square. He hurried past the Bank and down the Turnhill Road, to the private residence of 'Young Lawton,' son of the deceased 'Lawyer Lawton.' Young Lawton followed his father's profession; he was, as his father had been, the most successful solicitor33 in the town (though reputed by his learned rivals to be a fool), but the custom of calling men by their occupations had died out with horse-cars. Samuel caught young Lawton at his breakfast, and presently drove with him, in the Lawton buggy, to the police-station, where their arrival electrified34 a crowd as large as that in St. Luke's Square. Later, they drove together to Hanbridge, informally to brief a barrister; and Samuel, not permitted to be present at the first part of the interview between the solicitor and the barrister, was humbled36 before the pomposity37 of legal etiquette38.
It seemed to Samuel a game. The whole rigmarole of police and police-cells and formalities seemed insincere. His cousin's case was not like any other case, and, though formalities might be necessary, it was rather absurd to pretend that it was like any other case. In what manner it differed from other cases Samuel did not analytically39 inquire. He thought young Lawton was self- important, and Daniel too humble35, in the colloquy40 of these two, and he endeavoured to indicate, by the dignity of his own demeanour, that in his opinion the proper relative tones had not been set. He could not understand Daniel's attitude, for he lacked imagination to realize what Daniel had been through. After all, Daniel was not a murderer; his wife's death was due to accident, was simply a mishap41.
But in the crowded and stinking42 court-room of the Town Hall, Samuel began to feel qualms43. It occurred that the Stipendiary Magistrate44 was sitting that morning at Bursley. He sat alone, as not one of the Borough45 Justices cared to occupy the Bench while a Town Councillor was in the dock. The Stipendiary, recently appointed, was a young man, from the southern part of the county; and a Town Councillor of Bursley was no more to him than a petty tradesman to a man of fashion. He was youthfully enthusiastic for the majesty46 and the impartiality47 of English justice, and behaved as though the entire responsibility for the safety of that vast fabric48 rested on his shoulders. He and the barrister from Hanbridge had had a historic quarrel at Cambridge, and their behaviour to each other was a lesson to the vulgar in the art of chill and consummate49 politeness. Young Lawton, having been to Oxford50, secretly scorned the pair of them, but, as he had engaged counsel, he of course was precluded52 from adding to the eloquence53, which chagrined54 him. These three were the aristocracy of the court-room; they knew it; Samuel Povey knew it; everybody knew it, and felt it. The barrister brought an unexceptionable zeal55 to the performance of his duties; be referred in suitable terms to Daniel's character and high position in the town, but nothing could hide the fact that for him too his client was a petty tradesman accused of simple murder. Naturally the Stipendiary was bound to show that before the law all men are equal--the Town Councillor and the common tippler; he succeeded. The policeman gave his evidence, and the Inspector56 swore to what Daniel Povey had said when charged. The hearing proceeded so smoothly57 and quickly that it seemed naught58 but an empty rite59, with Daniel as a lay figure in it. The Stipendiary achieved marvellously the illusion that to him a murder by a Town Councillor in St. Luke's Square was quite an everyday matter. Bail60 was inconceivable, and the barrister, being unable to suggest any reason why the Stipendiary should grant a remand--indeed, there was no reason-- Daniel Povey was committed to the Stafford Assizes for trial. The Stipendiary instantly turned to the consideration of an alleged61 offence against the Factory Acts by a large local firm of potters. The young magistrate had mistaken his vocation62. With his steely calm, with his imperturbable63 detachment from weak humanity, he ought to have been a General of the Order of Jesuits.
Daniel was removed--he did not go: he was removed, by two bare- headed constables64. Samuel wanted to have speech with him, and could not. And later, Samuel stood in the porch of the Town Hall, and Daniel appeared out of a corridor, still in the keeping of two policemen, helmeted now. And down below at the bottom of the broad flight of steps, up which passed dancers on the nights of subscription65 balls, was a dense66 crowd, held at bay by other policemen; and beyond the crowd a black van. And Daniel--to his cousin a sort of Christ between thieves--was hurried past the privileged loafers in the corridor, and down the broad steps. A murmuring wave agitated67 the crowd. Unkempt idlers and ne'er-do- wells in corduroy leaped up like tigers in the air, and the policemen fought them back furiously. And Daniel and his guardians68 shot through the little living lane. Quick! Quick! For the captive is more sacred even than a messiah. The law has him in charge! And like a feat69 of prestidigitation Daniel disappeared into the blackness of the van. A door slammed loudly, triumphantly70, and a whip cracked. The crowd had been balked71. It was as though the crowd had yelled for Daniel's blood and bones, and the faithful constables had saved him from their lust72.
Yes, Samuel had qualms. He had a sickness in the stomach.
The aged51 Superintendent73 of Police walked by, with the aged Rector. The Rector was Daniel's friend. Never before had the Rector spoken to the Nonconformist Samuel, but now he spoke to him; he squeezed his hand.
"Ah, Mr. Povey!" he ejaculated grievously.
"I--I'm afraid it's serious!" Samuel stammered74. He hated to admit that it was serious, but the words came out of his mouth.
He looked at the Superintendent of Police, expecting the Superintendent to assure him that it was not serious; but the Superintendent only raised his small white-bearded chin, saying nothing. The Rector shook his head, and shook a senile tear out of his eye.
After another chat with young Lawton, Samuel, on behalf of Daniel, dropped his pose of the righteous man to whom a mere mishap has occurred, and who is determined, with the lofty pride of innocence75, to indulge all the whims76 of the law, to be more royalist than the king. He perceived that the law must be fought with its own weapons, that no advantage must be surrendered, and every possible advantage seized. He was truly astonished at himself that such a pose had ever been adopted. His eyes were opened; he saw things as they were.
He returned home through a Square that was more interested than ever in the facade77 of his cousin's house. People were beginning to come from Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, Turnhill, and villages such as Moorthorne, to gaze at that facade. And the fourth edition of the Signal, containing a full report of what the Stipendiary and the barrister had said to each other, was being cried.
In his shop he found customers, as absorbed in the trivialities of purchase as though nothing whatever had happened. He was shocked; he resented their callousness78.
"I'm too busy now," he said curtly79 to one who accosted80 him."
"Sam!" his wife called him in a low voice. She was standing behind the till.
"What is it?" He was ready to crush, and especially to crush indiscreet babble81 in the shop. He thought she was going to vent82 her womanly curiosity at once.
"Mr. Huntbach is waiting for you in the parlour," said Constance.
"Mr. Huntbach?"
"Yes, from Longshaw." She whispered, "It's Mrs. Povey's cousin. He's come to see about the funeral and so on, the--the inquest, I suppose."
Samuel paused. "Oh, has he!" said he defiantly83. "Well, I'll see him. If he WANTS to see me, I'll see him."
That evening Constance learned all that was in his mind of bitterness against the memory of the dead woman whose failings had brought Daniel Povey to Stafford gaol84 and Dick to the Pirehill Infirmary. Again and again, in the ensuing days, he referred to the state of foul85 discomfort86 which he had discovered in Daniel's house. He nursed a feud87 against all her relatives, and when, after the inquest, at which he gave evidence full of resentment88, she was buried, he vented89 an angry sigh of relief, and said: "Well, SHE'S out of the way!" Thenceforward he had a mission, religious in its solemn intensity90, to defend and save Daniel. He took the enterprise upon himself, spending the whole of himself upon it, to the neglect of his business and the scorn of his health. He lived solely91 for Daniel's trial, pouring out money in preparation for it. He thought and spoke of nothing else. The affair was his one preoccupation. And as the weeks passed, he became more and more sure of success, more and more sure that he would return with Daniel to Bursley in triumph after the assize. He was convinced of the impossibility that 'anything should happen' to Daniel; the circumstances were too clear, too overwhelmingly in Daniel's favour.
When Brindley, the second-best baker and confectioner, made an offer for Daniel's business as a going concern, he was indignant at first. Then Constance, and the lawyer, and Daniel (whom he saw on every permitted occasion) between them persuaded him that if some arrangement was not made, and made quickly, the business would lose all its value, and he consented, on Daniel's behalf, to a temporary agreement under which Brindley should reopen the shop and manage it on certain terms until Daniel regained92 his freedom towards the end of January. He would not listen to Daniel's plaintive93 insistence94 that he would never care to be seen in Bursley again. He pooh-poohed it. He protested furiously that the whole town was seething95 with sympathy for Daniel; and this was true. He became Daniel's defending angel, rescuing Daniel from Daniel's own weakness and apathy96. He became, indeed, Daniel.
One morning the shop-shutter was wound up, and Brindley, inflated97 with the importance of controlling two establishments, strutted98 in and out under the sign of Daniel Povey. And traffic in bread and cakes and flour was resumed. Apparently the sea of time had risen and covered Daniel and all that was his; for his wife was under earth, and Dick lingered at Pirehill, unable to stand, and Daniel was locked away. Apparently, in the regular flow of the life of the Square, Daniel was forgotten. But not in Samuel Povey's heart was he forgotten! There, before an altar erected99 to the martyr100, the sacred flame of a new faith burned with fierce consistency101. Samuel, in his greying middle-age, had inherited the eternal youth of the apostle.
1 smothering | |
(使)窒息, (使)透不过气( smother的现在分词 ); 覆盖; 忍住; 抑制 | |
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2 frigid | |
adj.寒冷的,凛冽的;冷淡的;拘禁的 | |
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3 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
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4 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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5 laggard | |
n.落后者;adj.缓慢的,落后的 | |
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6 recital | |
n.朗诵,独奏会,独唱会 | |
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7 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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8 appreciative | |
adj.有鉴赏力的,有眼力的;感激的 | |
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9 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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10 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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11 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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12 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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13 attentiveness | |
[医]注意 | |
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14 mortar | |
n.灰浆,灰泥;迫击炮;v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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15 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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16 livelihood | |
n.生计,谋生之道 | |
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17 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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18 component | |
n.组成部分,成分,元件;adj.组成的,合成的 | |
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19 dint | |
n.由于,靠;凹坑 | |
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20 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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21 fickleness | |
n.易变;无常;浮躁;变化无常 | |
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22 exclamations | |
n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 );感叹;感叹语;感叹词 | |
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23 recurred | |
再发生,复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 ); 治愈 | |
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24 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 | |
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25 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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26 brotherhood | |
n.兄弟般的关系,手中情谊 | |
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27 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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28 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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29 baker | |
n.面包师 | |
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30 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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31 emergence | |
n.浮现,显现,出现,(植物)突出体 | |
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32 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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33 solicitor | |
n.初级律师,事务律师 | |
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34 electrified | |
v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 );使兴奋 | |
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35 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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36 humbled | |
adj. 卑下的,谦逊的,粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下,贬低 | |
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37 pomposity | |
n.浮华;虚夸;炫耀;自负 | |
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38 etiquette | |
n.礼仪,礼节;规矩 | |
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39 analytically | |
adv.有分析地,解析地 | |
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40 colloquy | |
n.谈话,自由讨论 | |
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41 mishap | |
n.不幸的事,不幸;灾祸 | |
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42 stinking | |
adj.臭的,烂醉的,讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 );发臭味;名声臭;糟透 | |
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43 qualms | |
n.不安;内疚 | |
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44 magistrate | |
n.地方行政官,地方法官,治安官 | |
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45 borough | |
n.享有自治权的市镇;(英)自治市镇 | |
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46 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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47 impartiality | |
n. 公平, 无私, 不偏 | |
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48 fabric | |
n.织物,织品,布;构造,结构,组织 | |
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49 consummate | |
adj.完美的;v.成婚;使完美 [反]baffle | |
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50 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
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51 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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52 precluded | |
v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 );排除;妨碍;使…行不通 | |
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53 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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54 chagrined | |
adj.懊恼的,苦恼的v.使懊恼,使懊丧,使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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56 inspector | |
n.检查员,监察员,视察员 | |
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57 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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58 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
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59 rite | |
n.典礼,惯例,习俗 | |
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60 bail | |
v.舀(水),保释;n.保证金,保释,保释人 | |
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61 alleged | |
a.被指控的,嫌疑的 | |
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62 vocation | |
n.职业,行业 | |
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63 imperturbable | |
adj.镇静的 | |
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64 constables | |
n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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65 subscription | |
n.预订,预订费,亲笔签名,调配法,下标(处方) | |
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66 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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67 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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68 guardians | |
监护人( guardian的名词复数 ); 保护者,维护者 | |
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69 feat | |
n.功绩;武艺,技艺;adj.灵巧的,漂亮的,合适的 | |
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70 triumphantly | |
ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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71 balked | |
v.畏缩不前,犹豫( balk的过去式和过去分词 );(指马)不肯跑 | |
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72 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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73 superintendent | |
n.监督人,主管,总监;(英国)警务长 | |
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74 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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76 WHIMS | |
虚妄,禅病 | |
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77 facade | |
n.(建筑物的)正面,临街正面;外表 | |
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78 callousness | |
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79 curtly | |
adv.简短地 | |
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80 accosted | |
v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 );跟…搭讪;(乞丐等)上前向…乞讨;(妓女等)勾搭 | |
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81 babble | |
v.含糊不清地说,胡言乱语地说,儿语 | |
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82 vent | |
n.通风口,排放口;开衩;vt.表达,发泄 | |
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83 defiantly | |
adv.挑战地,大胆对抗地 | |
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84 gaol | |
n.(jail)监狱;(不加冠词)监禁;vt.使…坐牢 | |
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85 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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86 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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87 feud | |
n.长期不和;世仇;v.长期争斗;世代结仇 | |
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88 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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89 vented | |
表达,发泄(感情,尤指愤怒)( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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91 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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92 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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93 plaintive | |
adj.可怜的,伤心的 | |
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94 insistence | |
n.坚持;强调;坚决主张 | |
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95 seething | |
沸腾的,火热的 | |
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96 apathy | |
n.漠不关心,无动于衷;冷淡 | |
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97 inflated | |
adj.(价格)飞涨的;(通货)膨胀的;言过其实的;充了气的v.使充气(于轮胎、气球等)( inflate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)膨胀;(使)通货膨胀;物价上涨 | |
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98 strutted | |
趾高气扬地走,高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99 ERECTED | |
adj. 直立的,竖立的,笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立,建立 | |
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100 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
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101 consistency | |
n.一贯性,前后一致,稳定性;(液体的)浓度 | |
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