章节正文
The doctor whistled a little tune and flicked the mare again.
"Well, I hope the young shaver won't give his mother too much trouble," he
said. "Here we are."
A skinny little boy, who had been sliding up and down the back seat of the
gig, sprang out and held the horse's head. Andreas went straight into the
dining-room and left the servant girl to take the doctor upstairs. He sat
down, poured out some coffee, and bit through half a roll before helping
himself to fish. Then he noticed there was no hot plate for the fish--the
whole house was at sixes and sevens. He rang the bell, but the servant
girl came in with a tray holding a bowl of soup and a hot plate.
"I've been keeping them on the stove," she simpered.
"Ah, thanks, that's very kind of you." As he swallowed the soup his heart
warmed to this fool of a girl.
"Oh, it's a good thing Doctor Erb has come," volunteered the servant girl,
who was bursting for want of sympathy.
"H'm, h'm," said Andreas.
She waited a moment, expectantly, rolling her eyes, then in full loathing
of menkind went back to the kitchen and vowed herself to sterility.
Andreas cleared the soup bowl, and cleared the fish. As he ate, the room
slowly darkened. A faint wind sprang up and beat the tree branches against
the window. The dining-room looked over the breakwater of the harbour, and
the sea swung heavily in rolling waves. Wind crept round the house,
moaning drearily.
"We're in for a storm. That means I'm boxed up here all day. Well,
there's one blessing; it'll clear the air." He heard the servant girl
rushing importantly round the house, slamming windows. Then he caught a
glimpse of her in the garden, unpegging tea towels from the line across the
lawn. She was a worker, there was no doubt about that. He took up a book,
and wheeled his arm-chair over to the window. But it was useless. Too
dark to read; he didn't believe in straining his eyes, and gas at ten
o'clock in the morning seemed absurd. So he slipped down in the chair,
leaned his elbows on the padded arms and gave himself up, for once, to idle
dreaming. "A boy? Yes, it was bound to be a boy this time..." "What's
your family, Binzer?" "Oh, I've two girls and a boy!" A very nice little
number. Of course he was the last man to have a favourite child, but a man
needed a son. "I'm working up the business for my son! Binzer & Son! It
would mean living very tight for the next ten years, cutting expenses as
fine as possible; and then--"
A tremendous gust of wind sprang upon the house, seized it, shook it,
dropped, only to grip the more tightly. The waves swelled up along the
breakwater and were whipped with broken foam. Over the white sky flew
tattered streamers of grey cloud.
Andreas felt quite relieved to hear Doctor Erb coming down the stairs; he
got up and lit the gas.
"Mind if I smoke in here?" asked Doctor Erb, lighting a cigarette before
Andreas had time to answer. "You don't smoke, do you? No time to indulge
in pernicious little habits!"
"How is she now?" asked Andreas, loathing the man.
"Oh, well as can be expected, poor little soul. She begged me to come down
and have a look at you. Said she knew you were worrying." With laughing
eyes the doctor looked at the breakfast-table. "Managed to peck a bit, I
see, eh?"
"Hoo-wih!" shouted the wind, shaking the window-sashes.
"Pity--this weather," said Doctor Erb.
"Yes, it gets on Anna's nerves, and it's just nerve she wants."
"Eh, what's that?" retorted the doctor. "Nerve! Man alive! She's got
twice the nerve of you and me rolled into one. Nerve! she's nothing but
nerve. A woman who works as she does about the house and has three
children in four years thrown in with the dusting, so to speak!"
He pitched his half-smoked cigarette into the fireplace and frowned at the
window.
"Now HE'S accusing me," thought Andreas. "That's the second time this
morning--first mother and now this man takingadvantage of my
sensitiveness." He could not trust himself to speak, and rang the bell for
the servant girl.
"Clear away the breakfast things," he ordered. "I can't have them messing
about on the table till dinner!"
"Don't be hard on the girl," coaxed Doctor Erb. "She's got twice the work
to do to-day."
At that Binzer's anger blazed out.
"I'll trouble you, Doctor, not to interfere between me and my servants!"
And he felt a fool at the same moment for not saying "servant."
Doctor Erb was not perturbed. He shook his head, thrust his hands into his
pockets, and began balancing himself on toe and heel.
"You're jagged by the weather," he said wryly, "nothing else. A great
pity--this storm. You know climate has an immense effect upon birth. A
fine day perks a woman--gives her heart for her business. Good weather is
as necessary to a confinement as it is to a washing day. Not bad--that
last remark of mine--for a professionalfossil, eh?"
Andreas made no reply.
"Well, I'll be getting back to my patient. Why don't you take a walk, and
clear your head? That's the idea for you."
"No," he answered, "I won't do that; it's too rough."
He went back to his chair by the window. While the servant girl cleared
away he pretended to read...then his dreams! It seemed years since he had
had the time to himself to dream like that--he never had a breathing space.
Saddled with work all day, and couldn't shake it off in the evening like
other men. Besides, Anna was interested--they talked of practically
nothing else together. Excellent mother she'd make for a boy; she had a
grip of things.
Church bells started ringing through the windy air, now sounding as though
from very far away, then again as though all the churches in the town had
been suddenly transplanted into their street. They stirred something in
him, those bells, something vague and tender. Just about that time Anna
would call him from the hall. "Andreas, come and have your coat brushed.
I'm ready." Then off they would go, she hanging on his arm, and looking up
at him. She certainly was a little thing. He remembered once saying when
they were engaged, "Just as high as my heart," and she had jumped on to a
stool and pulled his head down, laughing. A kid in those days, younger
than her children in nature, brighter, more "go" and "spirit" in her. The
way she'd run down the road to meet him after business! And the way she
laughed when they were looking for a house. By Jove! that laugh of hers!
At the memory he grinned, then grew suddenly grave. Marriage certainly
changed a woman far more than it did a man. Talk about sobering down. She
had lost all her go in two months! Well, once this boy business was over
she'd get stronger. He began to plan a little trip for them. He'd take
her away and they'd loaf about together somewhere. After all, dash it,
they were young still. She'd got into a groove; he'd have to force her out
of it, that's all.
He got up and went into the drawing-room, carefully shut the door and took
Anna's photograph from the top of the piano. She wore a white dress with a
big bow of some soft stuff under the chin, and stood, a little stiffly,
holding a sheaf of artificial poppies and corn in her hands. Delicate she
looked even then; her masses of hair gave her that look. She seemed to
droop under the heavy braids of it, and yet she was smiling. Andreas
caught his breathsharply. She was his wife--that girl. Posh! it had only
been taken four years ago. He held it close to him, bent forward and
kissed it. Then rubbed the glass with the back of his hand. At that
moment, fainter than he had heard in the passage, more terrifying, Andreas
heard again that wailing cry. The wind caught it up in mocking echo, blew
it over the house-tops, down the street, far away from him. He flung out
his arms, "I'm so damnably helpless," he said, and then, to the picture,
"Perhaps it's not as bad as it sounds; perhaps it is just my
sensitiveness." In the half light of the drawing-room the smile seemed to
deepen in Anna's portrait, and to become secret, even cruel. "No," he
reflected, "that smile is not at all her happiest expression--it was a
mistake to let her have it taken smiling like that. She doesn't look like
my wife--like the mother of my son." Yes, that was it, she did not look
like the mother of a son who was going to be a partner in the firm. The
picture got on his nerves; he held it in different lights, looked at it
from a distance, sideways, spent, it seemed to Andreas afterwards, a whole
lifetime trying to fit it in. The more he played with it the deeper grew
his dislike of it. Thrice he carried it over to the fireplace and decided
to chuck it behind the Japanese umbrella in the grate; then he thought it
absurd to waste an expensive frame. There was no good in beating about the
bush. Anna looked like a stranger--abnormal, a freak--it might be a
picture taken just before or after death.
Suddenly he realised that the wind had dropped, that the whole house was
still, terribly still. Cold and pale, with a disgusting feeling that
spiders were creeping up his spine and across his face, he stood in the
centre of the drawing-room, hearing Doctor Erb's footsteps descending the
stairs.
He saw Doctor Erb come into the room; the room seemed to change into a
great glass bowl that spun round, and Doctor Erb seemed to swim through
this glass bowl towards him, like a goldfish in a pearl-coloured waistcoat.
"My beloved wife has passed away!" He wanted to shout it out before the
doctor spoke.
"Well, she's hooked a boy this time!" said Doctor Erb. Andreas staggered
forward.
"Look out. Keep on your pins," said Doctor Erb, catching Dinzer's arm, and
murmuring, as he felt it, "Flabby as butter."
A glow spread all over Andreas. He was exultant.
"Well, by God! Nobody can accuse ME of not knowing what suffering is," he
said.
10. THE CHILD-WHO-WAS-TIRED.
She was just beginning to walk along a little white road with tall black
trees on either side, a little road that led to nowhere, and where nobody
walked at all, when a hand gripped her shoulder, shook her, slapped her
ear.
"Oh, oh, don't stop me," cried the Child-Who-Was-Tired. "Let me go."
"Get up, you good-for-nothing brat," said a voice; "get up and light the
oven or I'll shake every bone out of your body."
With an immense effort she opened her eyes, and saw the Frau standing by,
the baby bundled under one arm. The three other children who shared the
same bed with the Child-Who-Was-Tired, accustomed to brawls, slept on
peacefully. In a corner of the room the Man was fastening his braces.
"What do you mean by sleeping like this the whole night through--like a
sack of potatoes? You've let the baby wet his bed twice."
She did not answer, but tied her petticoat string, and buttoned on her
plaid frock with cold, shaking fingers.
"There, that's enough. Take the baby into the kitchen with you, and heat
that cold coffee on the spirit lamp for the master, and give him the loaf
of black bread out of the table drawer. Don't guzzle it yourself or I'll
know."
The Frau staggered across the room, flung herself on to her bed, drawing
the pink bolster round her shoulders.
It was almost dark in the kitchen. She laid the baby on the wooden settle,
covering him with a shawl, then poured the coffee from the earthenware jug
into the saucepan, and set it on the spirit lamp to boil.
"I'm sleepy," nodded the Child-Who-Was-Tired, kneeling on the floor and
splitting the damp pine logs into little chips. "That's why I'm not
awake."
The oven took a long time to light. Perhaps it was cold, like herself, and
sleepy...Perhaps it had been dreaming of a little white road with black
trees on either side, a little road that led to nowhere.
Then the door was pulled violently open and the Man strode in.
"Here, what are you doing, sitting on the floor?" he shouted. "Give me my
coffee. I've got to be off. Ugh! You haven't even washed over the
table."
She sprang to her feet, poured his coffee into an enamel cup, and gave him
bread and a knife, then, taking a wash rag from the sink, smeared over the
black linoleumed table.
"Swine of a day--swine's life," mumbled the Man, sitting by the table and
staring out of the window at the bruised sky, which seemed to bulge heavily
over the dull land. He stuffed his mouth with bread and then swilled it
down with the coffee.
The Child drew a pail of water, turned up her sleeves, frowning the while
at her arms, as if to scold them for being so thin, so much like little
stunted twigs, and began to mop over the floor.
"Stop sousing about the water while I'm here," grumbled the Man. "Stop the
baby snivelling; it's been going on like that all night."
"Well, I hope the young shaver won't give his mother too much trouble," he
said. "Here we are."
A skinny little boy, who had been sliding up and down the back seat of the
gig, sprang out and held the horse's head. Andreas went straight into the
dining-room and left the servant girl to take the doctor upstairs. He sat
down, poured out some coffee, and bit through half a roll before helping
himself to fish. Then he noticed there was no hot plate for the fish--the
whole house was at sixes and sevens. He rang the bell, but the servant
girl came in with a tray holding a bowl of soup and a hot plate.
"I've been keeping them on the stove," she simpered.
"Ah, thanks, that's very kind of you." As he swallowed the soup his heart
warmed to this fool of a girl.
"Oh, it's a good thing Doctor Erb has come," volunteered the servant girl,
who was bursting for want of sympathy.
"H'm, h'm," said Andreas.
She waited a moment, expectantly, rolling her eyes, then in full loathing
of menkind went back to the kitchen and vowed herself to sterility.
Andreas cleared the soup bowl, and cleared the fish. As he ate, the room
slowly darkened. A faint wind sprang up and beat the tree branches against
the window. The dining-room looked over the breakwater of the harbour, and
the sea swung heavily in rolling waves. Wind crept round the house,
moaning drearily.
"We're in for a storm. That means I'm boxed up here all day. Well,
there's one blessing; it'll clear the air." He heard the servant girl
rushing importantly round the house, slamming windows. Then he caught a
glimpse of her in the garden, unpegging tea towels from the line across the
lawn. She was a worker, there was no doubt about that. He took up a book,
and wheeled his arm-chair over to the window. But it was useless. Too
dark to read; he didn't believe in straining his eyes, and gas at ten
o'clock in the morning seemed absurd. So he slipped down in the chair,
leaned his elbows on the padded arms and gave himself up, for once, to idle
dreaming. "A boy? Yes, it was bound to be a boy this time..." "What's
your family, Binzer?" "Oh, I've two girls and a boy!" A very nice little
number. Of course he was the last man to have a favourite child, but a man
needed a son. "I'm working up the business for my son! Binzer & Son! It
would mean living very tight for the next ten years, cutting expenses as
fine as possible; and then--"
A tremendous gust of wind sprang upon the house, seized it, shook it,
dropped, only to grip the more tightly. The waves swelled up along the
breakwater and were whipped with broken foam. Over the white sky flew
tattered streamers of grey cloud.
Andreas felt quite relieved to hear Doctor Erb coming down the stairs; he
got up and lit the gas.
"Mind if I smoke in here?" asked Doctor Erb, lighting a cigarette before
Andreas had time to answer. "You don't smoke, do you? No time to indulge
in pernicious little habits!"
"How is she now?" asked Andreas, loathing the man.
"Oh, well as can be expected, poor little soul. She begged me to come down
and have a look at you. Said she knew you were worrying." With laughing
eyes the doctor looked at the breakfast-table. "Managed to peck a bit, I
see, eh?"
"Hoo-wih!" shouted the wind, shaking the window-sashes.
"Pity--this weather," said Doctor Erb.
"Yes, it gets on Anna's nerves, and it's just nerve she wants."
"Eh, what's that?" retorted the doctor. "Nerve! Man alive! She's got
twice the nerve of you and me rolled into one. Nerve! she's nothing but
nerve. A woman who works as she does about the house and has three
children in four years thrown in with the dusting, so to speak!"
He pitched his half-smoked cigarette into the fireplace and frowned at the
window.
"Now HE'S accusing me," thought Andreas. "That's the second time this
morning--first mother and now this man takingadvantage of my
sensitiveness." He could not trust himself to speak, and rang the bell for
the servant girl.
"Clear away the breakfast things," he ordered. "I can't have them messing
about on the table till dinner!"
"Don't be hard on the girl," coaxed Doctor Erb. "She's got twice the work
to do to-day."
At that Binzer's anger blazed out.
"I'll trouble you, Doctor, not to interfere between me and my servants!"
And he felt a fool at the same moment for not saying "servant."
Doctor Erb was not perturbed. He shook his head, thrust his hands into his
pockets, and began balancing himself on toe and heel.
"You're jagged by the weather," he said wryly, "nothing else. A great
pity--this storm. You know climate has an immense effect upon birth. A
fine day perks a woman--gives her heart for her business. Good weather is
as necessary to a confinement as it is to a washing day. Not bad--that
last remark of mine--for a professionalfossil, eh?"
Andreas made no reply.
"Well, I'll be getting back to my patient. Why don't you take a walk, and
clear your head? That's the idea for you."
"No," he answered, "I won't do that; it's too rough."
He went back to his chair by the window. While the servant girl cleared
away he pretended to read...then his dreams! It seemed years since he had
had the time to himself to dream like that--he never had a breathing space.
Saddled with work all day, and couldn't shake it off in the evening like
other men. Besides, Anna was interested--they talked of practically
nothing else together. Excellent mother she'd make for a boy; she had a
grip of things.
Church bells started ringing through the windy air, now sounding as though
from very far away, then again as though all the churches in the town had
been suddenly transplanted into their street. They stirred something in
him, those bells, something vague and tender. Just about that time Anna
would call him from the hall. "Andreas, come and have your coat brushed.
I'm ready." Then off they would go, she hanging on his arm, and looking up
at him. She certainly was a little thing. He remembered once saying when
they were engaged, "Just as high as my heart," and she had jumped on to a
stool and pulled his head down, laughing. A kid in those days, younger
than her children in nature, brighter, more "go" and "spirit" in her. The
way she'd run down the road to meet him after business! And the way she
laughed when they were looking for a house. By Jove! that laugh of hers!
At the memory he grinned, then grew suddenly grave. Marriage certainly
changed a woman far more than it did a man. Talk about sobering down. She
had lost all her go in two months! Well, once this boy business was over
she'd get stronger. He began to plan a little trip for them. He'd take
her away and they'd loaf about together somewhere. After all, dash it,
they were young still. She'd got into a groove; he'd have to force her out
of it, that's all.
He got up and went into the drawing-room, carefully shut the door and took
Anna's photograph from the top of the piano. She wore a white dress with a
big bow of some soft stuff under the chin, and stood, a little stiffly,
holding a sheaf of artificial poppies and corn in her hands. Delicate she
looked even then; her masses of hair gave her that look. She seemed to
droop under the heavy braids of it, and yet she was smiling. Andreas
caught his breathsharply. She was his wife--that girl. Posh! it had only
been taken four years ago. He held it close to him, bent forward and
kissed it. Then rubbed the glass with the back of his hand. At that
moment, fainter than he had heard in the passage, more terrifying, Andreas
heard again that wailing cry. The wind caught it up in mocking echo, blew
it over the house-tops, down the street, far away from him. He flung out
his arms, "I'm so damnably helpless," he said, and then, to the picture,
"Perhaps it's not as bad as it sounds; perhaps it is just my
sensitiveness." In the half light of the drawing-room the smile seemed to
deepen in Anna's portrait, and to become secret, even cruel. "No," he
reflected, "that smile is not at all her happiest expression--it was a
mistake to let her have it taken smiling like that. She doesn't look like
my wife--like the mother of my son." Yes, that was it, she did not look
like the mother of a son who was going to be a partner in the firm. The
picture got on his nerves; he held it in different lights, looked at it
from a distance, sideways, spent, it seemed to Andreas afterwards, a whole
lifetime trying to fit it in. The more he played with it the deeper grew
his dislike of it. Thrice he carried it over to the fireplace and decided
to chuck it behind the Japanese umbrella in the grate; then he thought it
absurd to waste an expensive frame. There was no good in beating about the
bush. Anna looked like a stranger--abnormal, a freak--it might be a
picture taken just before or after death.
Suddenly he realised that the wind had dropped, that the whole house was
still, terribly still. Cold and pale, with a disgusting feeling that
spiders were creeping up his spine and across his face, he stood in the
centre of the drawing-room, hearing Doctor Erb's footsteps descending the
stairs.
He saw Doctor Erb come into the room; the room seemed to change into a
great glass bowl that spun round, and Doctor Erb seemed to swim through
this glass bowl towards him, like a goldfish in a pearl-coloured waistcoat.
"My beloved wife has passed away!" He wanted to shout it out before the
doctor spoke.
"Well, she's hooked a boy this time!" said Doctor Erb. Andreas staggered
forward.
"Look out. Keep on your pins," said Doctor Erb, catching Dinzer's arm, and
murmuring, as he felt it, "Flabby as butter."
A glow spread all over Andreas. He was exultant.
"Well, by God! Nobody can accuse ME of not knowing what suffering is," he
said.
10. THE CHILD-WHO-WAS-TIRED.
She was just beginning to walk along a little white road with tall black
trees on either side, a little road that led to nowhere, and where nobody
walked at all, when a hand gripped her shoulder, shook her, slapped her
ear.
"Oh, oh, don't stop me," cried the Child-Who-Was-Tired. "Let me go."
"Get up, you good-for-nothing brat," said a voice; "get up and light the
oven or I'll shake every bone out of your body."
With an immense effort she opened her eyes, and saw the Frau standing by,
the baby bundled under one arm. The three other children who shared the
same bed with the Child-Who-Was-Tired, accustomed to brawls, slept on
peacefully. In a corner of the room the Man was fastening his braces.
"What do you mean by sleeping like this the whole night through--like a
sack of potatoes? You've let the baby wet his bed twice."
She did not answer, but tied her petticoat string, and buttoned on her
plaid frock with cold, shaking fingers.
"There, that's enough. Take the baby into the kitchen with you, and heat
that cold coffee on the spirit lamp for the master, and give him the loaf
of black bread out of the table drawer. Don't guzzle it yourself or I'll
know."
The Frau staggered across the room, flung herself on to her bed, drawing
the pink bolster round her shoulders.
It was almost dark in the kitchen. She laid the baby on the wooden settle,
covering him with a shawl, then poured the coffee from the earthenware jug
into the saucepan, and set it on the spirit lamp to boil.
"I'm sleepy," nodded the Child-Who-Was-Tired, kneeling on the floor and
splitting the damp pine logs into little chips. "That's why I'm not
awake."
The oven took a long time to light. Perhaps it was cold, like herself, and
sleepy...Perhaps it had been dreaming of a little white road with black
trees on either side, a little road that led to nowhere.
Then the door was pulled violently open and the Man strode in.
"Here, what are you doing, sitting on the floor?" he shouted. "Give me my
coffee. I've got to be off. Ugh! You haven't even washed over the
table."
She sprang to her feet, poured his coffee into an enamel cup, and gave him
bread and a knife, then, taking a wash rag from the sink, smeared over the
black linoleumed table.
"Swine of a day--swine's life," mumbled the Man, sitting by the table and
staring out of the window at the bruised sky, which seemed to bulge heavily
over the dull land. He stuffed his mouth with bread and then swilled it
down with the coffee.
The Child drew a pail of water, turned up her sleeves, frowning the while
at her arms, as if to scold them for being so thin, so much like little
stunted twigs, and began to mop over the floor.
"Stop sousing about the water while I'm here," grumbled the Man. "Stop the
baby snivelling; it's been going on like that all night."
- sprang [spræŋ]
spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词) - blessing [´blesiŋ] n.祝福 (初中英语单词)
- worker [´wə:kə] n.工人；劳动者；工作者 (初中英语单词)
- useless [´ju:sləs] a.无用的，无价值的 (初中英语单词)
- absurd [əb´sə:d] a.荒谬的，可笑的 (初中英语单词)
- working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- tremendous [tri´mendəs] a.可怕的；巨大的 (初中英语单词)
- advantage [əd´vɑ:ntidʒ] n.优势；利益 (初中英语单词)
- interfere [,intə´fiə] vi.干涉；妨碍；打扰 (初中英语单词)
- thrust [θrʌst] v.&n.猛推；冲；刺；挤进 (初中英语单词)
- climate [´klaimit] n.气候；特殊气候地带 (初中英语单词)
- immense [i´mens] a.广大的，无限的 (初中英语单词)
- professional [prə´feʃənəl] a.职业的 n.自由职业 (初中英语单词)
- artificial [,ɑ:ti´fiʃəl] a.人工的；模拟的 (初中英语单词)
- delicate [´delikət] a.精美的；微妙的 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- partner [´pɑ:tnə] n.伙伴 v.同....合作 (初中英语单词)
- dislike [dis´laik] vt.&n.不喜爱，厌恶 (初中英语单词)
- expensive [ik´spensiv] a.费钱的，昂贵的 (初中英语单词)
- terribly [´terəbli] ad.可怕地 (初中英语单词)
- beloved [bi´lʌvd] a.为....所爱的 n.爱人 (初中英语单词)
- hooked [hukt] a.钩状的；上瘾的 (初中英语单词)
- accuse [ə´kju:z] vt.谴责；控告，告发 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- fastening [´fɑ:səniŋ] n.(门等)扣绊，拴扣物 (初中英语单词)
- sleeping [´sli:piŋ] n.&a.睡着(的) (初中英语单词)
- drawer [drɔ:ə] n.抽屉 (初中英语单词)
- wooden [´wudn] a.木制的；呆板的 (初中英语单词)
- tightly [´taitli] ad.紧，紧密地 (高中英语单词)
- fireplace [´faiəpleis] n.壁炉，炉灶 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- portrait [´pɔ:trit] n.肖像；相片；雕像 (高中英语单词)
- umbrella [ʌm´brelə] n.伞 (高中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- nowhere [´nəuweə] n.无处；不知道 (高中英语单词)
- violently [´vaiələntli] ad.强暴地；猛烈地 (高中英语单词)
- strode [strəud] stride的过去式 (高中英语单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- lighting [´laitiŋ] n.照明，发光 (英语四级单词)
- fossil [´fɔsəl] n.老顽固 a.化石的 (英语四级单词)
- groove [gru:v] n.槽 vt.在...作槽 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- thrice [θrais] ad.三倍地；三次 (英语四级单词)
- petticoat [´petikəut] n.裙子 a.女性的 (英语四级单词)
- saucepan [´sɔ:spən] n.长柄有盖的深平底锅 (英语四级单词)
- enamel [i´næm(ə)l] n.搪瓷；珐琅 (英语四级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- pernicious [pə´niʃəs] a.有害的；有毒的；致命的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- confinement [kən´fainmənt] n.限制；监禁；分娩 (英语六级单词)
- beating [´bi:tiŋ] n.敲；搅打；失败 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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