章节正文
Davy peered curiously at her.
"You don't seem a bit shocked, Anne. Mrs. Lynde was awful
shocked when I said it to her."
"No, I'm not shocked, Davy. I think it's quite natural that a
nine-year-old boy would sooner read an adventure story than the
Bible. But when you are older I hope and think that you will
realize what a wonderful book the Bible is."
"Oh, I think some parts of it are fine," conceded Davy. "That
story about Joseph now -- it's bully. But if I'd been Joseph _I_
wouldn't have forgive the brothers. No, siree, Anne. I'd have
cut all their heads off. Mrs. Lynde was awful mad when I said that
and shut the Bible up and said she'd never read me any more of it if
I talked like that. So I don't talk now when she reads it Sunday
afternoons; I just think things and say them to Milty Boulter next
day in school. I told Milty the story about Elisha and the bears
and it scared him so he's never made fun of Mr. Harrison's bald
head once. Are there any bears on P.E. Island, Anne? I want to know."
"Not nowadays," said Anne, absently, as the wind blew a scud of
snow against the window. "Oh, dear, will it ever stop storming."
"God knows," said Davy airily, preparing to resume his reading.
Anne WAS shocked this time.
"Davy!" she exclaimed reproachfully.
"Mrs. Lynde says that," protested Davy. "One night last week
Marilla said `Will Ludovic Speed and Theodora Dix EVER get
married" and Mrs. Lynde said, `God knows' -- just like that."
"Well, it wasn't right for her to say it," said Anne, promptly
deciding upon which horn of this dilemma to empale herself.
"It isn't right for anybody to take that name in vain or
speak it lightly, Davy. Don't ever do it again."
"Not if I say it slow and solemn, like the minister?" queried
Davy gravely.
"No, not even then."
"Well, I won't. Ludovic Speed and Theodora Dix live in Middle
Grafton and Mrs. Rachel says he has been courting her for a
hundred years. Won't they soon be too old to get married, Anne?
I hope Gilbert won't court YOU that long. When are you going to
be married, Anne? Mrs. Lynde says it's a sure thing."
"Mrs. Lynde is a --" began Anne hotly; then stopped. "Awful old
gossip," completed Davy calmly. "That's what every one calls her.
But is it a sure thing, Anne? I want to know."
"You're a very silly little boy, Davy," said Anne, stalking
haughtily out of the room. The kitchen was deserted and she sat
down by the window in the fast falling wintrytwilight. The sun
had set and the wind had died down. A pale chilly moon looked
out behind a bank of purple clouds in the west. The sky faded
out, but the strip of yellow along the westernhorizon grew
brighter and fiercer, as if all the stray gleams of light were
concentrating in one spot; the distant hills, rimmed with
priest-like firs, stood out in dark distinctness against it.
Anne looked across the still, white fields, cold and lifeless
in the harsh light of that grim sunset, and sighed. She was
very lonely; and she was sad at heart; for she was wondering
if she would be able to return to Redmond next year. It did not
seem likely. The only scholarship possible in the Sophomore year
was a very small affair. She would not take Marilla's money;
and there seemed little prospect of being able to earn enough
in the summer vacation.
"I suppose I'll just have to drop out next year," she thought
drearily, "and teach a district school again until I earn enough
to finish my course. And by that time all my old class will have
graduated and Patty's Place will be out of the question. But there!
I'm not going to be a coward. I'm thankful I can earn my way through
if necessary."
"Here's Mr. Harrison wading up the lane," announced Davy, running out.
"I hope he's brought the mail. It's three days since we got it.
I want to see what them pesky Grits are doing. I'm a Conservative, Anne.
And I tell you, you have to keep your eye on them Grits."
Mr. Harrison had brought the mail, and merry letters from Stella
and Priscilla and Phil soon dissipated Anne's blues. Aunt Jamesina,
too, had written, saying that she was keeping the hearth-fire alight,
and that the cats were all well, and the house plants doing fine.
"The weather has been real cold," she wrote, "so I let the cats sleep
in the house -- Rusty and Joseph on the sofa in the living-room, and
the Sarah-cat on the foot of my bed. It's real company to hear her
purring when I wake up in the night and think of my poor daughter in
the foreign field. If it was anywhere but in India I wouldn't worry,
but they say the snakes out there are terrible. It takes all the
Sarah-cats's purring to drive away the thought of those snakes.
I have enough faith for everything but the snakes. I can't think
why Providence ever made them. Sometimes I don't think He did.
I'm inclined to believe the Old Harry had a hand in making THEM."
Anne had left a thin, typewritten communication till the last,
thinking it unimportant. When she had read it she sat very
still, with tears in her eyes.
"What is the matter, Anne?" asked Marilla.
"Miss Josephine Barry is dead," said Anne, in a low tone.
"So she has gone at last," said Marilla. "Well, she has been
sick for over a year, and the Barrys have been expecting to hear
of her death any time. It is well she is at rest for she has
suffered dreadfully, Anne. She was always kind to you."
"She has been kind to the last, Marilla. This letter is from her lawyer.
She has left me a thousand dollars in her will."
"Gracious, ain't that an awful lot of money," exclaimed Davy.
"She's the woman you and Diana lit on when you jumped into
the spare room bed, ain't she? Diana told me that story.
Is that why she left you so much?"
"Hush, Davy," said Anne gently. She slipped away to the porch
gable with a full heart, leaving Marilla and Mrs. Lynde to talk
over the news to their hearts' content.
"Do you s'pose Anne will ever get married now?" speculated Davy
anxiously. "When Dorcas Sloane got married last summer she said
if she'd had enough money to live on she'd never have been
bothered with a man, but even a widower with eight children was
better'n living with a sister-in-law."
"Davy Keith, do hold your tongue," said Mrs. Rachel severely.
"The way you talk is scandalous for a small boy, that's what."
Chapter XIX
An Interlude
"To think that this is my twentieth birthday, and that I've left
my teens behind me forever," said Anne, who was curled up on the
hearth-rug with Rusty in her lap, to Aunt Jamesina who was reading
in her pet chair. They were alone in the living room. Stella and
Priscilla had gone to a committee meeting and Phil was upstairs
adorning herself for a party.
"I suppose you feel kind of, sorry" said Aunt Jamesina. "The teens are
such a nice part of life. I'm glad I've never gone out of them myself."
Anne laughed.
"You never will, Aunty. You'll be eighteen when you should be a
hundred. Yes, I'm sorry, and a little dissatisfied as well.
Miss Stacy told me long ago that by the time I was twenty my
character would be formed, for good or evil. I don't feel that
it's what it should be. It's full of flaws."
"So's everybody's," said Aunt Jamesina cheerfully. "Mine's cracked
in a hundred places. Your Miss Stacy likely meant that when you are
twenty your character would have got its permanent bent in one direction
or 'tother, and would go on developing in that line. Don't worry over it,
Anne. Do your duty by God and your neighbor and yourself, and have a good
time. That's my philosophy and it's always worked pretty well. Where's
Phil off to tonight?"
"She's going to a dance, and she's got the sweetest dress for it
-- creamy yellow silk and cobwebby lace. It just suits those
brown tints of hers."
"There's magic in the words `silk' and `lace,' isn't there?" said
Aunt Jamesina. "The very sound of them makes me feel like
skipping off to a dance. And YELLOW silk. It makes one think of
a dress of sunshine. I always wanted a yellow silk dress, but
first my mother and then my husband wouldn't hear of it. The
very first thing I'm going to do when I get to heaven is to get a
yellow silk dress."
Amid Anne's peal of laughter Phil came downstairs, trailing clouds
of glory, and surveyed herself in the long oval mirror on the wall.
"A flattering looking glass is a promoter of amiability," she
said. "The one in my room does certainly make me green. Do I
look pretty nice, Anne?"
"Do you really know how pretty you are, Phil?" asked Anne,
in honest admiration.
"Of course I do. What are looking glasses and men for? That wasn't
what I meant. Are all my ends tucked in? Is my skirt straight?
And would this rose look better lower down? I'm afraid it's too high
-- it will make me look lop-sided. But I hate things tickling my ears."
"Everything is just right, and that southwestdimple of yours is lovely."
"Anne, there's one thing in particular I like about you -- you're
so ungrudging. There isn't a particle of envy in you."
"Why should she be envious?" demanded Aunt Jamesina. "She's not quite
as goodlooking as you, maybe, but she's got a far handsomer nose."
"I know it," conceded Phil.
"My nose always has been a great comfort to me," confessed Anne.
"And I love the way your hair grows on your forehead, Anne. And
that one wee curl, always looking as if it were going to drop,
but never dropping, is delicious. But as for noses, mine is a
dreadful worry to me. I know by the time I'm forty it will be
Byrney. What do you think I'll look like when I'm forty, Anne?"
"Like an old, matronly, married woman," teased Anne.
"I won't," said Phil, sitting down comfortably to wait for her escort.
"Joseph, you calico beastie, don't you dare jump on my lap. I won't go
to a dance all over cat hairs. No, Anne, I WON'T look matronly. But no
doubt I'll be married."
"To Alec or Alonzo?" asked Anne.
"To one of them, I suppose," sighed Phil, "if I can ever decide which."
"It shouldn't be hard to decide," scolded Aunt Jamesina.
"I was born a see-saw Aunty, and nothing can ever prevent me from teetering."
"You ought to be more levelheaded, Philippa."
"It's best to be levelheaded, of course," agreed Philippa, "but you miss
lots of fun. As for Alec and Alonzo, if you knew them you'd understand
why it's difficult to choose between them. They're equally nice."
"Then take somebody who is nicer" suggested Aunt Jamesina.
"There's that Senior who is so devoted to you -- Will Leslie.
He has such nice, large, mild eyes."
"They're a little bit too large and too mild -- like a cow's,"
said Phil cruelly.
"What do you say about George Parker?"
"There's nothing to say about him except that he always looks as
if he had just been starched and ironed."
"Marr Holworthy then. You can't find a fault with him."
"No, he would do if he wasn't poor. I must marry a rich man,
Aunt Jamesina. That -- and good looks -- is an indispensable
qualification. I'd marry Gilbert Blythe if he were rich."
"Oh, would you?" said Anne, rather viciously.
"We don't like that idea a little bit, although we don't want
Gilbert ourselves, oh, no," mocked Phil. "But don't let's talk
of disagreeable subjects. I'll have to marry sometime, I suppose,
but I shall put off the evil day as long as I can."
"You mustn't marry anybody you don't love, Phil, when all's said
and done," said Aunt Jamesina.
"`Oh, hearts that loved in the good old way
Have been out o' the fashion this many a day.'"
trilled Phil mockingly. "There's the carriage. I fly -- Bi-bi,
you two old-fashioned darlings."
When Phil had gone Aunt Jamesina looked solemnly at Anne.
"That girl is pretty and sweet and goodhearted, but do you think
she is quite right in her mind, by spells, Anne?"
"You don't seem a bit shocked, Anne. Mrs. Lynde was awful
shocked when I said it to her."
"No, I'm not shocked, Davy. I think it's quite natural that a
nine-year-old boy would sooner read an adventure story than the
Bible. But when you are older I hope and think that you will
realize what a wonderful book the Bible is."
"Oh, I think some parts of it are fine," conceded Davy. "That
story about Joseph now -- it's bully. But if I'd been Joseph _I_
wouldn't have forgive the brothers. No, siree, Anne. I'd have
cut all their heads off. Mrs. Lynde was awful mad when I said that
and shut the Bible up and said she'd never read me any more of it if
I talked like that. So I don't talk now when she reads it Sunday
afternoons; I just think things and say them to Milty Boulter next
day in school. I told Milty the story about Elisha and the bears
and it scared him so he's never made fun of Mr. Harrison's bald
head once. Are there any bears on P.E. Island, Anne? I want to know."
"Not nowadays," said Anne, absently, as the wind blew a scud of
snow against the window. "Oh, dear, will it ever stop storming."
"God knows," said Davy airily, preparing to resume his reading.
Anne WAS shocked this time.
"Davy!" she exclaimed reproachfully.
"Mrs. Lynde says that," protested Davy. "One night last week
Marilla said `Will Ludovic Speed and Theodora Dix EVER get
married" and Mrs. Lynde said, `God knows' -- just like that."
"Well, it wasn't right for her to say it," said Anne, promptly
deciding upon which horn of this dilemma to empale herself.
"It isn't right for anybody to take that name in vain or
speak it lightly, Davy. Don't ever do it again."
"Not if I say it slow and solemn, like the minister?" queried
Davy gravely.
"No, not even then."
"Well, I won't. Ludovic Speed and Theodora Dix live in Middle
Grafton and Mrs. Rachel says he has been courting her for a
hundred years. Won't they soon be too old to get married, Anne?
I hope Gilbert won't court YOU that long. When are you going to
be married, Anne? Mrs. Lynde says it's a sure thing."
"Mrs. Lynde is a --" began Anne hotly; then stopped. "Awful old
gossip," completed Davy calmly. "That's what every one calls her.
But is it a sure thing, Anne? I want to know."
"You're a very silly little boy, Davy," said Anne, stalking
haughtily out of the room. The kitchen was deserted and she sat
down by the window in the fast falling wintrytwilight. The sun
had set and the wind had died down. A pale chilly moon looked
out behind a bank of purple clouds in the west. The sky faded
out, but the strip of yellow along the westernhorizon grew
brighter and fiercer, as if all the stray gleams of light were
concentrating in one spot; the distant hills, rimmed with
priest-like firs, stood out in dark distinctness against it.
Anne looked across the still, white fields, cold and lifeless
in the harsh light of that grim sunset, and sighed. She was
very lonely; and she was sad at heart; for she was wondering
if she would be able to return to Redmond next year. It did not
seem likely. The only scholarship possible in the Sophomore year
was a very small affair. She would not take Marilla's money;
and there seemed little prospect of being able to earn enough
in the summer vacation.
"I suppose I'll just have to drop out next year," she thought
drearily, "and teach a district school again until I earn enough
to finish my course. And by that time all my old class will have
graduated and Patty's Place will be out of the question. But there!
I'm not going to be a coward. I'm thankful I can earn my way through
if necessary."
"Here's Mr. Harrison wading up the lane," announced Davy, running out.
"I hope he's brought the mail. It's three days since we got it.
I want to see what them pesky Grits are doing. I'm a Conservative, Anne.
And I tell you, you have to keep your eye on them Grits."
Mr. Harrison had brought the mail, and merry letters from Stella
and Priscilla and Phil soon dissipated Anne's blues. Aunt Jamesina,
too, had written, saying that she was keeping the hearth-fire alight,
and that the cats were all well, and the house plants doing fine.
"The weather has been real cold," she wrote, "so I let the cats sleep
in the house -- Rusty and Joseph on the sofa in the living-room, and
the Sarah-cat on the foot of my bed. It's real company to hear her
purring when I wake up in the night and think of my poor daughter in
the foreign field. If it was anywhere but in India I wouldn't worry,
but they say the snakes out there are terrible. It takes all the
Sarah-cats's purring to drive away the thought of those snakes.
I have enough faith for everything but the snakes. I can't think
why Providence ever made them. Sometimes I don't think He did.
I'm inclined to believe the Old Harry had a hand in making THEM."
Anne had left a thin, typewritten communication till the last,
thinking it unimportant. When she had read it she sat very
still, with tears in her eyes.
"What is the matter, Anne?" asked Marilla.
"Miss Josephine Barry is dead," said Anne, in a low tone.
"So she has gone at last," said Marilla. "Well, she has been
sick for over a year, and the Barrys have been expecting to hear
of her death any time. It is well she is at rest for she has
suffered dreadfully, Anne. She was always kind to you."
"She has been kind to the last, Marilla. This letter is from her lawyer.
She has left me a thousand dollars in her will."
"Gracious, ain't that an awful lot of money," exclaimed Davy.
"She's the woman you and Diana lit on when you jumped into
the spare room bed, ain't she? Diana told me that story.
Is that why she left you so much?"
"Hush, Davy," said Anne gently. She slipped away to the porch
gable with a full heart, leaving Marilla and Mrs. Lynde to talk
over the news to their hearts' content.
"Do you s'pose Anne will ever get married now?" speculated Davy
anxiously. "When Dorcas Sloane got married last summer she said
if she'd had enough money to live on she'd never have been
bothered with a man, but even a widower with eight children was
better'n living with a sister-in-law."
"Davy Keith, do hold your tongue," said Mrs. Rachel severely.
"The way you talk is scandalous for a small boy, that's what."
Chapter XIX
An Interlude
"To think that this is my twentieth birthday, and that I've left
my teens behind me forever," said Anne, who was curled up on the
hearth-rug with Rusty in her lap, to Aunt Jamesina who was reading
in her pet chair. They were alone in the living room. Stella and
Priscilla had gone to a committee meeting and Phil was upstairs
adorning herself for a party.
"I suppose you feel kind of, sorry" said Aunt Jamesina. "The teens are
such a nice part of life. I'm glad I've never gone out of them myself."
Anne laughed.
"You never will, Aunty. You'll be eighteen when you should be a
hundred. Yes, I'm sorry, and a little dissatisfied as well.
Miss Stacy told me long ago that by the time I was twenty my
character would be formed, for good or evil. I don't feel that
it's what it should be. It's full of flaws."
"So's everybody's," said Aunt Jamesina cheerfully. "Mine's cracked
in a hundred places. Your Miss Stacy likely meant that when you are
twenty your character would have got its permanent bent in one direction
or 'tother, and would go on developing in that line. Don't worry over it,
Anne. Do your duty by God and your neighbor and yourself, and have a good
time. That's my philosophy and it's always worked pretty well. Where's
Phil off to tonight?"
"She's going to a dance, and she's got the sweetest dress for it
-- creamy yellow silk and cobwebby lace. It just suits those
brown tints of hers."
"There's magic in the words `silk' and `lace,' isn't there?" said
Aunt Jamesina. "The very sound of them makes me feel like
skipping off to a dance. And YELLOW silk. It makes one think of
a dress of sunshine. I always wanted a yellow silk dress, but
first my mother and then my husband wouldn't hear of it. The
very first thing I'm going to do when I get to heaven is to get a
yellow silk dress."
Amid Anne's peal of laughter Phil came downstairs, trailing clouds
of glory, and surveyed herself in the long oval mirror on the wall.
"A flattering looking glass is a promoter of amiability," she
said. "The one in my room does certainly make me green. Do I
look pretty nice, Anne?"
"Do you really know how pretty you are, Phil?" asked Anne,
in honest admiration.
"Of course I do. What are looking glasses and men for? That wasn't
what I meant. Are all my ends tucked in? Is my skirt straight?
And would this rose look better lower down? I'm afraid it's too high
-- it will make me look lop-sided. But I hate things tickling my ears."
"Everything is just right, and that southwestdimple of yours is lovely."
"Anne, there's one thing in particular I like about you -- you're
so ungrudging. There isn't a particle of envy in you."
"Why should she be envious?" demanded Aunt Jamesina. "She's not quite
as goodlooking as you, maybe, but she's got a far handsomer nose."
"I know it," conceded Phil.
"My nose always has been a great comfort to me," confessed Anne.
"And I love the way your hair grows on your forehead, Anne. And
that one wee curl, always looking as if it were going to drop,
but never dropping, is delicious. But as for noses, mine is a
dreadful worry to me. I know by the time I'm forty it will be
Byrney. What do you think I'll look like when I'm forty, Anne?"
"Like an old, matronly, married woman," teased Anne.
"I won't," said Phil, sitting down comfortably to wait for her escort.
"Joseph, you calico beastie, don't you dare jump on my lap. I won't go
to a dance all over cat hairs. No, Anne, I WON'T look matronly. But no
doubt I'll be married."
"To Alec or Alonzo?" asked Anne.
"To one of them, I suppose," sighed Phil, "if I can ever decide which."
"It shouldn't be hard to decide," scolded Aunt Jamesina.
"I was born a see-saw Aunty, and nothing can ever prevent me from teetering."
"You ought to be more levelheaded, Philippa."
"It's best to be levelheaded, of course," agreed Philippa, "but you miss
lots of fun. As for Alec and Alonzo, if you knew them you'd understand
why it's difficult to choose between them. They're equally nice."
"Then take somebody who is nicer" suggested Aunt Jamesina.
"There's that Senior who is so devoted to you -- Will Leslie.
He has such nice, large, mild eyes."
"They're a little bit too large and too mild -- like a cow's,"
said Phil cruelly.
"What do you say about George Parker?"
"There's nothing to say about him except that he always looks as
if he had just been starched and ironed."
"Marr Holworthy then. You can't find a fault with him."
"No, he would do if he wasn't poor. I must marry a rich man,
Aunt Jamesina. That -- and good looks -- is an indispensable
qualification. I'd marry Gilbert Blythe if he were rich."
"Oh, would you?" said Anne, rather viciously.
"We don't like that idea a little bit, although we don't want
Gilbert ourselves, oh, no," mocked Phil. "But don't let's talk
of disagreeable subjects. I'll have to marry sometime, I suppose,
but I shall put off the evil day as long as I can."
"You mustn't marry anybody you don't love, Phil, when all's said
and done," said Aunt Jamesina.
"`Oh, hearts that loved in the good old way
Have been out o' the fashion this many a day.'"
trilled Phil mockingly. "There's the carriage. I fly -- Bi-bi,
you two old-fashioned darlings."
When Phil had gone Aunt Jamesina looked solemnly at Anne.
"That girl is pretty and sweet and goodhearted, but do you think
she is quite right in her mind, by spells, Anne?"
- curiously [´kjuəriəsli]
ad.好奇地；稀奇古怪地 (初中英语单词) - forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- lightly [´laitli] ad.轻微地，稍微 (初中英语单词)
- solemn [´sɔləm] a.严肃的；隆重的 (初中英语单词)
- calmly [´kɑ:mli] ad.平静地；无风浪地 (初中英语单词)
- twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- chilly [´tʃili] a.凉飕飕的 (初中英语单词)
- purple [´pə:pl] n.紫色 a.紫(红)的 (初中英语单词)
- western [´westən] a.西的；西方的 (初中英语单词)
- horizon [hə´raizən] n.地平线；范围；视野 (初中英语单词)
- sunset [´sʌnset] n.日落；晚霞 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- prospect [´prɔspekt, prəs´pekt] n.景色；境界 v.勘察 (初中英语单词)
- coward [´kauəd] n.胆怯者 a.胆小的 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- communication [kə,mju:ni´keiʃən] n.通信；通讯联系 (初中英语单词)
- dreadfully [dredfuli] ad.可怕地；糟透地 (初中英语单词)
- gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- permanent [´pə:mənənt] a.永久的；不变的 (初中英语单词)
- philosophy [fi´lɔsəfi] n.哲学；人生观 (初中英语单词)
- sunshine [´sʌnʃain] n.日光，阳光 (初中英语单词)
- laughter [´lɑ:ftə] n.笑，笑声 (初中英语单词)
- downstairs [,daun´steəz] ad.在楼下 a.楼下的 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- delicious [di´liʃəs] a.美味的，可口的 (初中英语单词)
- equally [´i:kwəli] ad.相等地；平等地 (初中英语单词)
- sometime [´sʌmtaim] ad.曾经 a.从前的 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- old-fashioned [´əuld´feʃənd] a.老式的；过时的 (初中英语单词)
- thankful [´θæŋkfəl] a.感激的；欣慰的 (高中英语单词)
- conservative [kən´sə:vətiv] a.保守的 n.保守者 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- flattering [´flætəriŋ] a.谄媚的；奉承的 (高中英语单词)
- southwest [,sauθ´west] n.&a.西南(方)(的) (高中英语单词)
- particle [´pɑ:tikl] n.微粒；极小量 (高中英语单词)
- comfortably [´kʌmfətəbli] ad.舒适地 (高中英语单词)
- senior [´si:niə] a.年长的 n.前辈 (高中英语单词)
- disagreeable [,disə´gri:əbl] a.令人不悦的 (高中英语单词)
- solemnly [´sɔləmli] ad.严肃地，庄严地 (高中英语单词)
- scholarship [´skɔləʃip, ´skɑlər-] n.学术成就；学问 (英语四级单词)
- providence [´prɔvidəns] n.天意，天命，上帝 (英语四级单词)
- unimportant [ʌnim´pɔ:tənt] a.不重要的，平凡的 (英语四级单词)
- calico [´kælikəu] n.白棉布；印花布 (英语四级单词)
- devoted [di´vəutid] a.献身...的，忠实的 (英语四级单词)
- absently [´æbsəntli] ad.心不在焉地 (英语六级单词)
- wintry [´wintri] a.冬天的；荒凉的 (英语六级单词)
- dissatisfied [´dis,sætis´fækʃən] a.不满的；显出不满的 (英语六级单词)
- creamy [´kri:mi] a.含奶油的；米色的 (英语六级单词)
- promoter [prə´məutə] n.促进者；创办人 (英语六级单词)
- dimple [´dimpəl] n.酒窝 v.(使)现酒窝 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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