Too soon the morning came when Mr. Barnstaple was to look his last upon the fair hills of Utopia and face the great experiment to which he had given himself. He had been loth to sleep and he had slept little that night, and in the early dawn he was abroad, wearing for the last time the sandals and the light white robe that had become his Utopian costume. Presently he would have to struggle into socks and boots and trousers and collar; the strangest gear. It would choke him he felt, and he stretched his bare arms to the sky and yawned and breathed his lungs full. The valley below still drowsed beneath a coverlet of fleecy mists; he turned his face uphill, the sooner to meet the sun.
Never before had he been out among the Utopian flowers at such an early hour; it was amusing to see how some of the great trumpets1 still drooped2 asleep and how many of the larger blossoms were furled and hung. Many of the leaves too were wrapped up, as limp as new-hatched moths3. The gossamer4 spiders had been busy and everything was very wet with dew. A great tiger came upon him suddenly out of a side path and stared hard at him for some moments with round yellow eyes. Perhaps it was trying to remember the forgotten instincts of its breed.
Some way up the road he passed under a vermilion archway and went up a flight of stone stairs that promised to bring him earlier to the crest6.
A number of friendly little birds, very gaily7 coloured, flew about him for a time and one perched impudently9 upon his shoulder, but when he put up his hand to caress10 it it evaded11 him and flew away. He was still ascending12 the staircase when the sun rose. It was as if the hillside slipped off a veil of grey and blue and bared the golden beauty of its body.
Mr. Barnstaple came to a landing place upon the staircase and stopped, and stood very still watching the sunrise search and quicken the brooding deeps of the valley below.
Far away, like an arrow shot from east to west, appeared a line of dazzling brightness on the sea.
Section 2
“Serenity,” he murmured. “Beauty. All the works of men — in perfect harmony . . . minds brought to harmony. . . . ”
According to his journalistic habit he tried over phrases. “An energetic peace . . . confusions dispersed13. . . . A world of spirits, crystal clear. . . . ”
What was the use of words?
For a time he stood quite still listening, for from some slope above a lark14 had gone heavenward, spraying sweet notes. He tried to see that little speck15 of song and was blinded by the brightening blue of the sky.
Presently the lark came down and ceased. Utopia was silent, except for a burst of childish laughter somewhere on the hillside below.
It dawned upon Mr. Barnstaple how peaceful was the Utopian air in comparison with the tormented16 atmosphere of earth. Here was no yelping17 and howling of tired or irritated dogs, no braying19, bellowing20, squealing21 and distressful22 outcries of uneasy beasts, no farmyard clamour, no shouts of anger, no barking and coughing, no sounds of hammering, beating, sawing, grinding, mechanical hooting23, whistling, screaming and the like, no clattering24 of distant trains, clanking of automobiles25 or other ill-contrived mechanisms26; the tiresome27 and ugly noises of many an unpleasant creature were heard no more. In Utopia the ear like the eye was at peace. The air which had once been a mud of felted noises was now — a purified silence. Such sounds as one heard lay upon it like beautiful printing on a generous sheet of fine paper.
His eyes returned to the landscape below as the last fleecy vestiges28 of mist dissolved away. Water-tanks, roads, bridges, buildings, embankments, colonnades30, groves31, gardens, channels, cascades32 and fountains grew multitudinously clear, framed under a branch of dark foliage33 from a white-stemmed tree that gripped a hold among the rocks at his side.
“Three thousand years ago this was a world like ours. . . . Think of it — in a hundred generations. . . . In three thousand years we might make our poor waste of an earth, jungle and desert, slag-heap and slum, into another such heaven of beauty and power. . . .
“Worlds they are — similar, but not the same. . . .
“If I could tell them what I have seen! . . .
“Suppose all men could have this vision of Utopia. . . .
“They would not believe it if I told them. No . . .
“They would bray18 like asses34 at me and bark like dogs! . . . They will have no world but their own world. It hurts them to think of any world but their own. Nothing can be done that has not been done already. To think otherwise would be humiliation35. . . . Death, torture, futility36 — anything but humiliation! So they must sit among their weeds and excrement37, scratching and nodding sagely38 at one another, hoping for a good dog-fight and to gloat upon pain and effort they do not share, sure that mankind stank39, stinks41 and must always stink40, that stinking42 is very pleasant indeed, and that there is nothing new under the sun. . . . ”
His thoughts were diverted by two young girls who came running one after the other up the staircase. One was dark even to duskiness and her hands were full of blue flowers; the other who pursued her was a year or so younger and golden fair. They were full of the limitless excitement of young animals at play. The former one was so intent upon the other that she discovered Mr. Barnstaple with a squeak43 of surprise after she had got to his landing. She stared at him with a quick glance of inquiry44, flashed into impudent8 roguery, flung two blue flowers in his face and was off up the steps above. Her companion, intent on capture, flew by. They flickered45 up the staircase like two butterflies of buff and pink; halted far above and came together for a momentary46 consultation47 about the stranger, waved hands to him and vanished.
Mr. Barnstaple returned their greeting and remained cheered.
Section 3
The view-point to which Lychnis had directed Mr. Barnstaple stood out on the ridge29 between the great valley in which he had spent the last few days and a wild and steep glen down which ran a torrent48 that was destined49 after some hundred miles of windings51 to reach the river of the plain. The view-point was on the crest of a crag, it had been built out upon great brackets so that it hung sheer over a bend in the torrent below; on the one hand was mountainous scenery and a rich and picturesque52 foam53 of green vegetation in the depths, on the other spread the broad garden spaces of a perfected landscape. For a time Mr. Barnstaple scrutinized54 this glen into which he looked for the first time. Five hundred feet or so below him, so that he felt that he could have dropped a pebble55 upon its outstretched wings, a bustard was soaring.
Many of the trees below he thought must be fruit trees, but they were too far off to see distinctly. Here and there he could distinguish a footpath56 winding50 up among the trees and rocks, and among the green masses were little pavilions in which he knew the wayfarer57 might rest and make tea for himself and find biscuits and such-like refreshment58 and possibly a couch and a book. The whole world, he knew, was full of such summer-houses and kindly59 shelters. . . .
After a time he went back to the side of this view-place up which he had come, and regarded the great valley that went out towards the sea. The word Pisgah floated through his mind. For indeed below him was the Promised Land of human desires. Here at last, established and secure, were peace, power, health, happy activity, length of days and beauty. All that we seek was found here and every dream was realized.
How long would it be yet — how many centuries or thousands of years — before a man would be able to stand upon some high place on earth also and see mankind triumphant60 and wholly and for ever at peace? . . .
He folded his arms under him upon the parapet and mused61 profoundly.
There was no knowledge in this Utopia of which earth had not the germs, there was no power used here that Earthlings might not use. Here, but for ignorance and darkness and the spites and malice62 they permit, was earth today. . . .
Towards such a world as this Utopia Mr. Barnstaple had been striving weakly all his life. If the experiment before him succeeded, if presently he found himself alive again on earth, it would still be towards Utopia that his life would be directed. And he would not be alone. On earth there must be thousands, tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, who were also struggling in their minds and acts to find a way of escape for themselves and for their children from the disorders63 and indignities64 of the Age of Confusion, hundreds of thousands who wanted to put an end to wars and waste, to heal and educate and restore, to set the banner of Utopia over the shams65 and divisions that waste mankind.
“Yes, but we fail,” said Mr. Barnstaple an walked fretfully to aid fro. “Tens and hundred of thousands of men and women! And we achieve so little! Perhaps every young man and every young woman has had some dream at least of serving and bettering the world. And we are scattered67 and wasted, and the old things and the foul68 things, customs, delusions70, habits, tolerated treasons, base immediacies, triumph over us!”
He went to the parapet again and stood with his foot on a seat, his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, staring at the loveliness of this world he was to leave so soon. . . .
“We could do it.”
And suddenly it was borne in upon Mr. Barnstaple that he belonged now soul and body to the Revolution, to the Great Revolution that is afoot on earth; that marches and will never desist nor rest again until Old Earth is one city and Utopia set up therein. He knew clearly that this Revolution is life, and that all other living is a trafficking of life with death. And as this crystallized out in his mind he knew instantly that so presently it would crystallize out in the minds of countless71 others of those hundreds of thousands of men and women on earth whom minds are set towards Utopia.
He stood up. He began walking to and fro. “We shall do it,” he said.
Earthly thought was barely awakened72 as yet to the task and possibilities before mankind. All human history so far had been no more than the stirring of a sleeper73, a gathering74 discontent, a rebellion against the limitations set upon life, the unintelligent protest of thwarted75 imaginations. All the conflicts and insurrections and revolutions that had ever been on earth were but indistinct preludes76 of the revolution that has still to come. When he had started out upon this fantastic holiday Mr. Barnstaple realized he had been in a mood of depression; earthly affairs had seemed utterly77 confused and hopeless to him; but now from the view-point of Utopia achieved, and with his health renewed, he could see plainly enough how steadily78 men on earth were feeling their way now, failure after failure, towards the opening drive of the final revolution. He could see how men in his own lifetime had been struggling out of such entanglements79 as the lie of monarchy80, the lies of dogmatic religion and dogmatic morality towards public self-respect and cleanness of mind and body. They struggled now also towards international charity and the liberation of their common economic life from a network of pretences81, dishonesties and impostures. There is confusion in all struggles; retractions and defeats; but the whole effect seen from the calm height of Utopia was one of steadfast82 advance. . . .
There were blunders, there were set-backs, because the forces of revolution still worked in the twilight83. The great effort and the great failure of the socialist84 movement to create a new state in the world had been contemporaneous with Mr. Barnstaple’s life; socialism had been the gospel of his boyhood; he had participated in its hopes, its doubts, its bitter internal conflicts. He had seen the movement losing sweetness and gathering force in the narrowness of the Marxist formulae. He had seen it sacrifice its constructive86 power for militant87 intensity88. In Russia he had marked its ability to overthrow89 and its inability to plan or build. Like every liberal spirit in the world he had shared the chill of Bolshevik presumption90 and Bolshevik failure, and for a time it had seemed to him that this open bankruptcy91 of a great creative impulse was no less and no more than a victory for reaction, that it gave renewed life to all the shams, impostures, corruptions92, traditional anarchies and ascendencies that restrain and cripple human life. . . . But now from this high view-point in Utopia he saw clearly that the Phoenix93 of Revolution flames down to ashes only to be born again. While the noose94 is fitted round the Teacher’s neck the youths are reading his teaching. Revolutions arise and die; the Great Revolution comes incessantly95 and inevitably96.
The time was near — and in what life was left to him, he himself might help to bring it nearer — when the forces of that last and real revolution would work no longer in the twilight but in the dawn, and a thousand sorts of men and women now far apart and unorganized and mutually antagonistic97 would be drawn98 together by the growth of a common vision of the world desired. The Marxist had wasted the forces of revolution for fifty years; he had had no vision; he had had only a condemnation99 for established things. He had estranged100 all scientific and able men by his pompous101 affectation of the scientific; he had terrified them by his intolerant orthodoxy; his delusion69 that all ideas are begotten102 by material circumstances had made him negligent103 of education and criticism. He had attempted to build social unity104 on hate and rejected every other driving force for the bitterness of a class war. But now, in its days of doubt and exhaustion105, vision was returning to Socialism, and the dreary106 spectacle of a proletarian dictatorship gave way once more to Utopia, to the demand for a world fairly and righteously at peace, its resources husbanded and exploited for the common good, its every citizen freed not only from servitude but from ignorance, and its surplus energies directed steadfastly107 to the increase of knowledge and beauty. The attainment108 of that vision by more and more minds was a thing now no longer to be prevented. Earth would tread the path Utopia had trod. She too would weave law, duty and education into a larger sanity109 than man has ever known. Men also would presently laugh at the things they had feared, and brush aside the impostures that had overawed them and the absurdities110 that had tormented and crippled their lives. And as this great revolution was achieved and earth wheeled into daylight, the burthen of human miseries111 would lift, and courage oust112 sorrow from the hearts of men. Earth, which was now no more than a wilderness113, sometimes horrible and at best picturesque, a wilderness interspersed114 with weedy scratchings for food and with hovels and slums and slag-heaps, earth too would grow rich with loveliness and fair as this great land was fair. The sons of earth also, purified from disease, sweet-minded and strong and beautiful, would go proudly about their conquered planet and lift their daring to the stars.
“Given the will,” said Mr. Barnstaple. “Given only the will.” . . .
Section 4
From some distant place came the sound of a sweet-toned bell striking the hour.
The time for the service to which he was dedicated115 was drawing near. He must descend116, and be taken to the place where the experiment was to be made.
He took one last look at the glen and then went back to the broad prospect117 of the great valley, with its lakes and tanks and terraces, its groves and pavilions, its busy buildings and high viaducts, its wide slopes of sunlit cultivation118, its universal gracious amenity119. “Farewell Utopia,” he said, and was astonished to discover how deeply his emotions were stirred.
“Dear Dream of Hope and Loveliness, Farewell!”
He stood quite still in a mood of sorrowful deprivation120 too deep for tears.
It seemed to him that the spirit of Utopia bent121 down over him like a goddess, friendly, adorable — and inaccessible122.
His very mind stood still.
“Never,” he whispered at last, “for me. . . . Except to serve. . . . No. . . . ”
Presently he began to descend the steps that wound down from the view-point. For a time he noted123 little of the things immediately about him. Then the scent125 of roses invaded his attention, and he found himself walking down a slanting126 pergola covered with great white roses and very active with little green birds. He stopped short and stood looking up at the leaves, light-saturated, against the sky. He put up his hands and drew down one of the great blossoms until it touched his cheek.
Section 5
They took Mr. Barnstaple back by aeroplane to the point upon the glassy road where he had first come into Utopia. Lychnis came with him and Crystal, who was curious to see what would be done.
A group of twenty or thirty people, including Sungold, awaited him. The ruined laboratory of Arden and Greenlake had been replaced by fresh buildings, and there were additional erections on the further side of the road; but Mr. Barnstaple could recognize quite clearly the place where Mr. Catskill had faced the leopard127 and where Mr. Burleigh had accosted128 him. Several new kinds of flowers were now out, but the blue blossoms that had charmed him on arrival still prevailed. His old car, the Yellow Peril129, looking now the clumsiest piece of ironmongery conceivable, stood in the road. He went and examined it. It seemed to be in perfect order; it had been carefully oiled and the petrol tank was full.
In a little pavilion were his bag and all his earthly clothes. They were very clean and they had been folded and pressed, and he put them on. His shirt seemed tight across his chest and his collar decidedly tight, and his coat cut him a little under the arms. Perhaps these garments had shrunken when they were disinfected. He packed his bag and Crystal put it in the car for him.
Sungold explained very simply all that Mr. Barnstaple had to do. Across the road, close by the restored laboratory, stretched a line as thin as gossamer. “Steer130 your car to that and break it,” he said. “That is all you have to do. Then take this red flower and put it down exactly where your wheel tracks show you have entered your own world.”
Mr. Barnstaple was left beside the car. The Utopians went back twenty or thirty yards and stood in a circle about him. For a few moments everyone was still.
Section 6
Mr. Barnstaple got into his car, started his engine, let it throb131 for a minute and then put in the clutch. The yellow car began to move towards the line of gossamer. He made a gesture with one hand which Lychnis answered. Sungold and others of the Utopians also made friendly movements. But Crystal was watching too intently for any gesture.
“Good-bye, Crystal!” cried Mr. Barnstaple, and the boy responded with a start.
Mr. Barnstaple accelerated, set his teeth and, in spite of his will to keep them open, shut his eyes as he touched the gossamer line. Came that sense again of unendurable tension and that sound like the snapping of a bow-string. He had an irresistible132 impulse to stop — go back. He took his foot from the accelerator, and the car seemed to fall a foot or so and stopped so heavily and suddenly that he was jerked forward against the steering133 wheel. The oppression lifted. He opened his eyes and looked about him.
The car was standing134 in a field from which the hay had recently been carried. He was tilted135 on one side because of a roll in the ground. A hedge in which there was an open black gate separated this hay-field from the high road. Close at hand was a board advertisement of some Maidenhead hotel. On the far side of the road were level fields against a background of low wooded hills. Away to the left was a little inn. He turned his head and saw Windsor Castle in the remote distance rising above poplar-studded meadows. It was not, as his Utopians had promised him, the exact spot of his departure from our earth, but it was certainly less than a hundred yards away.
He sat still for some moments, mentally rehearsing what he had to do. Then he started the Yellow Peril again and drove it close up to the black gate.
He got out and stood with the red flower in his hand. He had to go back to the exact spot at which he had re-entered this universe and put that flower down there. It would be quite easy to determine that point by the track the car had made in the stubble. But he felt an extraordinary reluctance136 to obey these instructions. He wanted to keep this flower. It was the last thing, the only thing, he had now from that golden world. That and the sweet savour on his hands.
It was extraordinary that he had brought no more than this with him. Why had he not brought a lot of flowers? Why had they given him nothing, no little thing, out of all their wealth of beauty? He wanted intensely to keep this flower. He was moved to substitute a spray of honeysuckle from the hedge close at hand. But then he remembered that that would be infected stuff for them. He must do as he was told. He walked back along the track of his car to its beginning, stood for a moment hesitating, tore a single petal137 from that glowing bloom, and then laid down the rest of the great flower carefully in the very centre of his track. The petal he put in his pocket. Then with a heavy heart he went back slowly to his car and stood beside it, watching that star of almost luminous138 red.
His grief and emotion were very great. He was bitterly sorrowful now at having left Utopia.
It was evident the great drought was still going on, for the field and the hedges were more parched139 and brown than he had ever seen an English field before. Along the road lay a thin cloud of dust that passing cars continually renewed. This old world seemed to him to be full of unlovely sights and sounds and odours already half forgotten. There was the honking140 of distant cars, the uproar141 of a train, a thirsty cow mourning its discomfort142; there was the irritation143 of dust in his nostrils144 and the smell of sweltering tar5; there was barbed wire in the hedge near by and along the top of the black gate, and horse-dung and scraps145 of dirty paper at his feet. The lovely world from which he had been driven had shrunken now to a spot of shining scarlet146.
Something happened very quickly. It was as if a hand appeared for a moment and took the flower. In a moment it had gone. A little eddy147 of dust swirled148 and drifted and sank. . . .
It was the end.
At the thought of the traffic on the main road Mr. Barnstaple stooped down so as to hide his face from the passers-by. For some minutes he was unable to regain149 his self-control. He stood with his arm covering his face, leaning against the shabby brown hood85 of his car. . . .
At last this gust150 of sorrow came to an end and he could get in again, start up the engine and steer into the main road.
He turned eastward151 haphazard152. He left the black gate open behind him. He went along very slowly for as yet he had formed no idea of whither he was going. He began to think that probably in this old world of ours he was being sought for as a person who had mysteriously disappeared. Someone might discover him and he would become the focus of a thousand impossible questions. That would be very tiresome and disagreeable. He had not thought of this in Utopia. In Utopia it had seemed quite possible that he could come back into earth unobserved. Now on earth that confidence seemed foolish. He saw ahead of him the board of a modest tea-room. It occurred that he might alight there, see a newspaper, ask a discreet153 question or so, and find out what had been happening to the world and whether he had indeed been missed.
He found a table already laid for tea under the window. In the centre of the room a larger table bore an aspidistra in a big green pot and a selection of papers, chiefly out-of-date illustrated154 papers. But there was also a copy of the morning’s Daily Express.
He seized upon this eagerly, fearful that he would find it full of the mysterious disappearance155 of Mr. Burleigh, Lord Barralonga, Mr. Rupert Catskill, Mr. Hunker, Father Amerton and Lady Stella, not to mention the lesser156 lights. . . . Gradually as he turned it over his fears vanished. There was not a word about any of them!
“But surely,” he protested to himself, now clinging to his idea, “their friends must have missed them!”
He read through the whole paper. Of one only did he find mention and that was the last name he would have expected to find — Mr. Freddy Mush. The Princess de Modena–Frascati (nee Higgisbottom) Prize for English literature had been given away to nobody in particular by Mr. Graceful157 Gloss158 owing to “the unavoidable absence of Mr. Freddy Mush abroad.”
The problem of why there had been no hue159 and cry for the others opened a vast field of worldly speculation160 to Mr. Barnstaple in which he wandered for a time. His mind went back to that bright red blossom lying among the cut stems of the grass in the mown field and to the hand that had seemed to take it. With that the door that had opened so marvellously between that strange and beautiful world and our own had closed again.
Wonder took possession of Mr. Barnstaple’s mind. That dear world of honesty and health was beyond the utmost boundaries of our space, utterly inaccessible to him now for evermore; and yet, as he had been told, it was but one of countless universes that move together in time, that lie against one another, endlessly like the leaves of a book. And all of them are as nothing in the endless multitudes of systems and dimensions that surround them. “Could I but rotate my arm out of the limits set to it,” one of the Utopians had said to him; “I could thrust it into a thousand universes.” . . .
A waitress with his teapot recalled him to mundane161 things.
The meal served to him seemed tasteless and unclean. He drank the queer brew162 of the tea because he was thirsty but he ate scarcely a mouthful.
Presently he chanced to put his hand in his pocket and touched something soft. He drew out the petal he had torn from the red flower. It had lost its glowing red, and as he held it out in the stuffy163 air of the room it seemed to writhe164 as it shrivelled and blackened; its delicate scent gave place to a mawkish165 odour.
“Manifestly,” he said. “I should have expected this.”
He dropped the lump of decay on his plate, then picked it up again and thrust it into the soil in the pot of the aspidistra.
He took up the Daily Express again and turned it over, trying to recover his sense of this world’s affairs.
Section 7
For a long time Mr. Barnstaple meditated166 over the Daily Express in the tea-room at Colnebrook. His thoughts went far so that presently the newspaper slipped to the ground unheeded. He roused himself with a sigh and called for his bill. Paying, he became aware of a pocket-book still full of pound notes. “This will be the cheapest holiday I have ever had,” he thought. “I’ve spent no money at all.” He inquired for the post-office, because he had a telegram to send.
Two hours later he stopped outside the gate of his little villa167 at Sydenham. He set it open — the customary bit of stick with which he did this was in its usual place — and steered168 the Yellow Peril with the dexterity169 of use and went past the curved flower-bed to the door of his shed. Mrs. Barnstaple appeared in the porch.
“Alfred! You’re back at last?”
“Yes, I’m back. You got my telegram?”
“Ten minutes ago. Where have you been all this time? It’s more than a month.”
“Oh! just drifting about and dreaming. I’ve had a wonderful time.”
“You ought to have written. You really ought to have written. . . . You did, Alfred. . . . ”
“I didn’t bother. The doctor said I wasn’t to bother. I told you. Is there any tea going? Where are the boys?”
“The boys are out. Let me make you some fresh tea.” She did so and came and sat down in the cane170 chair in front of him and the tea-table. “I’m glad to have you back. Though I could scold you. . . .
“You’re looking wonderfully well,” she said. “I’ve never seen your skin so clear and brown.”
“I’ve been in good air all the time.”
“Did you get to the Lakes?”
“Not quite. But it’s been good air everywhere. Healthy air.”
“You never got lost?”
“Never.”
“I had ideas of you getting lost — losing your memory. Such things happen. You didn’t?”
“My memory’s as bright as a jewel.”
“But where did you go?”
“I just wandered and dreamt. Lost in a day-dream. Often I didn’t ask the name of the place where I was staying. I stayed in one place and then in another. I never asked their names. I left my mind passive. Quite passive. I’ve had a tremendous rest — from everything. I’ve hardly given a thought to politics or money or social questions — at least, the sort of thing we call social questions — or any of these worries, since I started. . . . Is that this week’s Liberal?”
He took it, turned it over, and at last tossed it on to the sofa. “Poor old Peeve,” he said. “Of course I must leave that paper. He’s like wall-paper on a damp wall. Just blotches171 and rustles172 and fails to stick. . . . Gives me mental rheumatics.”
Mrs. Barnstaple stared at him doubtfully. “But I always thought that the Liberal was such a safe job.”
“I don’t want a safe job now. I can do better. There’s other work before me. . . . Don’t you worry. I can take hold of things surely enough after this rest. . . . How are the boys?”
“I’m a little anxious about Frankie.”
Mr. Barnstaple had picked up the Times. An odd advertisement in the Agony column had caught his eye. It ran: “Cecil. Your absence exciting remark. Would like to know what you wish us to tell people. Write fully66 Scotch173 address. Di. ill with worry. All instructions will be followed.”
“I beg your pardon, my dear?” he said putting the paper aside.
“I was saying that he doesn’t seem to be settling down to business. He doesn’t like it. I wish you could have a good talk to him. He’s fretting174 because he doesn’t know enough. He says he wants to be a science student at the Polytechnic175 and go on learning things.”
“Well, he can. Sensible boy! I didn’t think he had it in him. I meant to have a talk to him. But this meets me half-way. Certainly he shall study science.”
“But the boy has to earn a living.”
“That will come. If he wants to study science he shall.”
Mr. Barnstaple spoke176 in a tone that was altogether new to Mrs. Barnstaple, a tone of immediate124, quiet, and assured determination. It surprised her still more that he should use this tone without seeming to be aware that he had used it.
He bit his slice of bread-and-butter, and she could see that something in the taste surprised and displeased177 him. He glanced doubtfully at the remnant of the slice in his hand. “Of course,” he said. “London butter. Three days’ wear. Left about. Funny how quickly one’s taste alters.”
He picked up the Times again and ran his eye over its columns.
“This world is really very childish,” he said. “Very. I had forgotten. Imaginary Bolshevik plots. Sinn Fein proclamations. The Prince. Poland. Obvious lies about the Chinese. Obvious lies about Egypt. People pulling Wickham Steed’s leg. Sham-pious article about Trinity–Sunday. The Hitchin murder. . . . H’m! — rather a nasty one. . . . The Pomfort Rembrandt. . . . Insurance. . . . Letter from indignant peer about Death Duties. . . . Dreary Sport. Boating, Tennis, Schoolboy cricket. Collapse178 of Harrow! As though such things were of the slightest importance! . . . How silly it is — all of it! It’s like coming back to the quarrels of servants and the chatter179 of children.”
He found Mrs. Barnstaple regarding him intently. “I haven’t seen a paper from the day I started until this morning,” he explained.
He put down the paper and stood up. For some minutes Mrs. Barnstaple had been doubting whether she was not the victim of an absurd hallucination. Now she realized that she was in the presence of the most amazing fact she had ever observed.
“Yes,” she said. “It is so. Don’t move! Keep like that. I know it sounds ridiculous, Alfred, but you have grown taller. It’s not simply that your stoop has gone. You have grown oh! — two or three inches.”
Mr. Barnstaple stared at her, and then held out his arm. Certainly he was showing an unusual length of wrist. He tried to judge whether his trousers had also the same grown-out-of look.
Mrs. Barnstaple came up to him almost respectfully. She stood beside him and put her shoulder against his arm. “Your shoulder used to be exactly level with mine,” she said. “See where we are now!”
She looked up into his eyes. As though she was very glad indeed to have him back with her.
But Mr. Barnstaple remained lost in thought. “It must be the extreme freshness of the air. I have been in some wonderful air. . . . Wonderful! . . . But at my age! To have grown! And I feel as though I’d grown, inside and out, mind and body.” . . .
Mrs. Barnstaple presently began to put the tea-things together for removal.
“You seem to have avoided the big towns.”
“I did.”
“And kept to the country roads and lanes.”
“Practically. . . . It was all new country to me. . . . Beautiful. . . . Wonderful. . . . ”
His wife still watched him.
“You must take me there some day,” she said. “I can see that it has done you a world of good.”
The End
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
trumpets
|
|
| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
drooped
|
|
| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
moths
|
|
| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
gossamer
|
|
| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
tar
|
|
| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
crest
|
|
| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
gaily
|
|
| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
impudent
|
|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
impudently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
caress
|
|
| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
evaded
|
|
| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
ascending
|
|
| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
dispersed
|
|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
lark
|
|
| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
speck
|
|
| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
tormented
|
|
| 饱受折磨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
yelping
|
|
| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
bray
|
|
| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
braying
|
|
| v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的现在分词 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
bellowing
|
|
| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
squealing
|
|
| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
distressful
|
|
| adj.苦难重重的，不幸的，使苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
hooting
|
|
| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
clattering
|
|
| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
automobiles
|
|
| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
mechanisms
|
|
| n.机械( mechanism的名词复数 )；机械装置；[生物学] 机制；机械作用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
tiresome
|
|
| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
vestiges
|
|
| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
colonnades
|
|
| n.石柱廊( colonnade的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
31
groves
|
|
| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
cascades
|
|
| 倾泻( cascade的名词复数 )； 小瀑布（尤指一连串瀑布中的一支）； 瀑布状物； 倾泻（或涌出）的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
asses
|
|
| n. 驴，愚蠢的人，臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
humiliation
|
|
| n.羞辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
futility
|
|
| n.无用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
excrement
|
|
| n.排泄物，粪便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
sagely
|
|
| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
stank
|
|
| n. (英)坝，堰，池塘 动词stink的过去式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
stink
|
|
| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
stinks
|
|
| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
squeak
|
|
| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
consultation
|
|
| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
windings
|
|
| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
scrutinized
|
|
| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
pebble
|
|
| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
footpath
|
|
| n.小路，人行道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
wayfarer
|
|
| n.旅人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
refreshment
|
|
| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
mused
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
disorders
|
|
| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
indignities
|
|
| n.侮辱，轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
shams
|
|
| 假象( sham的名词复数 )； 假货； 虚假的行为（或感情、言语等）； 假装…的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
delusion
|
|
| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
delusions
|
|
| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
countless
|
|
| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
sleeper
|
|
| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
thwarted
|
|
| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
preludes
|
|
| n.开端( prelude的名词复数 )；序幕；序曲；短篇作品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
entanglements
|
|
| n.瓜葛( entanglement的名词复数 )；牵连；纠缠；缠住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
monarchy
|
|
| n.君主，最高统治者；君主政体，君主国 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
pretences
|
|
| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
steadfast
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
socialist
|
|
| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
hood
|
|
| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
constructive
|
|
| adj.建设的，建设性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
militant
|
|
| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
overthrow
|
|
| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
presumption
|
|
| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
bankruptcy
|
|
| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
corruptions
|
|
| n.堕落( corruption的名词复数 )；腐化；腐败；贿赂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
phoenix
|
|
| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
noose
|
|
| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
incessantly
|
|
| ad.不停地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
antagonistic
|
|
| adj.敌对的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
condemnation
|
|
| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
estranged
|
|
| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
begotten
|
|
| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
negligent
|
|
| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
unity
|
|
| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
exhaustion
|
|
| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
steadfastly
|
|
| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
attainment
|
|
| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
sanity
|
|
| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
absurdities
|
|
| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
miseries
|
|
| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
oust
|
|
| vt.剥夺，取代，驱逐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
interspersed
|
|
| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
dedicated
|
|
| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
cultivation
|
|
| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
amenity
|
|
| n.pl.生活福利设施，文娱康乐场所；（不可数）愉快，适意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
deprivation
|
|
| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
inaccessible
|
|
| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
leopard
|
|
| n.豹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
steer
|
|
| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
throb
|
|
| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
steering
|
|
| n.操舵装置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
tilted
|
|
| v. 倾斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
petal
|
|
| n.花瓣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
luminous
|
|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
parched
|
|
| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
honking
|
|
| v.（使）发出雁叫似的声音，鸣（喇叭），按（喇叭）( honk的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
uproar
|
|
| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
irritation
|
|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
scraps
|
|
| 油渣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
eddy
|
|
| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
swirled
|
|
| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
regain
|
|
| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
gust
|
|
| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
eastward
|
|
| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
haphazard
|
|
| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
gloss
|
|
| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
mundane
|
|
| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
brew
|
|
| v.酿造，调制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
stuffy
|
|
| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
writhe
|
|
| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
mawkish
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的的；无味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
meditated
|
|
| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
steered
|
|
| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
dexterity
|
|
| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
cane
|
|
| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
blotches
|
|
| n.（皮肤上的）红斑，疹块( blotch的名词复数 )；大滴 [大片]（墨水或颜色的）污渍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
rustles
|
|
| n.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的名词复数 )v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
fretting
|
|
| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
polytechnic
|
|
| adj.各种工艺的，综合技术的；n.工艺(专科)学校；理工(专科)学校 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
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： |
|
|
|
|
177
displeased
|
|
| a.不快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
collapse
|
|
| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |