章节正文
sit on the cushion and discuss china dogs until the time of departure.
Dorothy lingered behind a moment to squeeze Anne's hand and
whisper impulsively.
"I KNOW you and I are going to be chums. Oh, Roy has told me all
about you. I'm the only one of the family he tells things to,
poor boy -- nobody COULD confide in mamma and Aline, you know.
What glorious times you girls must have here! Won't you let me
come often and have a share in them?"
"Come as often as you like," Anne responded heartily, thankful
that one of Roy's sisters was likable. She would never like
Aline, so much was certain; and Aline would never like her,
though Mrs. Gardner might be won. Altogether, Anne sighed with
relief when the ordeal was over.
"`Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are it might have been,'"
quoted Priscilla tragically, lifting the cushion. "This cake is
now what you might call a flat failure. And the cushion is
likewise ruined. Never tell me that Friday isn't unlucky."
"People who send word they are coming on Saturday shouldn't come
on Friday," said Aunt Jamesina.
"I fancy it was Roy's mistake," said Phil. "That boy isn't really
responsible for what he says when he talks to Anne. Where IS Anne?"
Anne had gone upstairs. She felt oddly like crying. But she
made herself laugh instead. Rusty and Joseph had been TOO awful!
And Dorothy WAS a dear.
Chapter XXXVII
Full-fledged B.A.'s
"I wish I were dead, or that it were tomorrow night," groaned Phil.
"If you live long enough both wishes will come true," said Anne calmly.
"It's easy for you to be serene. You're at home in Philosophy.
I'm not -- and when I think of that horrible paper tomorrow I quail.
If I should fail in it what would Jo say?"
"You won't fail. How did you get on in Greek today?"
"I don't know. Perhaps it was a good paper and perhaps it was
bad enough to make Homer turn over in his grave. I've studied
and mulled over notebooks until I'm incapable of forming an
opinion of anything. How thankful little Phil will be when all
this examinating is over."
"Examinating? I never heard such a word."
"Well, haven't I as good a right to make a word as any one else?"
demanded Phil.
"Words aren't made -- they grow," said Anne.
"Never mind -- I begin faintly to discern clear water ahead where
no examination breakers loom. Girls, do you -- can you realize
that our Redmond Life is almost over?"
"I can't," said Anne, sorrowfully. "It seems just yesterday
that Pris and I were alone in that crowd of Freshmen at Redmond.
And now we are Seniors in our final examinations."
"`Potent, wise, and reverend Seniors,'" quoted Phil. "Do you
suppose we really are any wiser than when we came to Redmond?"
"You don't act as if you were by times," said Aunt Jamesina severely.
"Oh, Aunt Jimsie, haven't we been pretty good girls, take us by
and large, these three winters you've mothered us?" pleaded Phil.
"You've been four of the dearest, sweetest, goodest girls that
ever went together through college," averred Aunt Jamesina, who
never spoiled a compliment by misplaced economy.
"But I mistrust you haven't any too much sense yet. It's not to
be expected, of course. Experience teaches sense. You can't
learn it in a college course. You've been to college four years
and I never was, but I know heaps more than you do, young ladies."
"`There are lots of things that never go by rule,
There's a powerful pile o' knowledge
That you never get at college,
There are heaps of things you never learn at school,'"
quoted Stella.
"Have you learned anything at Redmond except dead languages and
geometry and such trash?" queried Aunt Jamesina.
"Oh, yes. I think we have, Aunty," protested Anne.
"We've learned the truth of what Professor Woodleigh told us
last Philomathic," said Phil. "He said, `Humor is the spiciest
condiment in the feast of existence. Laugh at your mistakes
but learn from them, joke over your troubles but gather strength
from them, make a jest of your difficulties but overcome them.'
Isn't that worth learning, Aunt Jimsie?"
"Yes, it is, dearie. When you've learned to laugh at the things
that should be laughed at, and not to laugh at those that shouldn't,
you've got wisdom and understanding."
"What have you got out of your Redmond course, Anne?" murmured
Priscilla aside.
"I think," said Anne slowly, "that I really have learned to look
upon each little hindrance as a jest and each great one as the
foreshadowing of victory. Summing up, I think that is what
Redmond has given me."
"I shall have to fall back on another Professor Woodleigh
quotation to express what it has done for me," said Priscilla.
"You remember that he said in his address, `There is so much
in the world for us all if we only have the eyes to see it, and
the heart to love it, and the hand to gather it to ourselves --
so much in men and women, so much in art and literature, so much
everywhere in which to delight, and for which to be thankful.'
I think Redmond has taught me that in some measure, Anne."
"Judging from what you all, say" remarked Aunt Jamesina,
"the sum and substance is that you can learn -- if you've got
natural gumption enough -- in four years at college what it
would take about twenty years of living to teach you. Well,
that justifies higher education in my opinion. It's a matter
I was always dubious about before."
"But what about people who haven't natural gumption, Aunt Jimsie?"
"People who haven't natural gumption never learn," retorted
Aunt Jamesina, "neither in college nor life. If they live to
be a hundred they really don't know anything more than when they
were born. It's their misfortune not their fault, poor souls.
But those of us who have some gumption should duly thank the
Lord for it."
"Will you please define what gumption is, Aunt Jimsie?" asked Phil.
"No, I won't, young woman. Any one who has gumption knows what
it is, and any one who hasn't can never know what it is. So there
is no need of defining it."
The busy days flew by and examinations were over. Anne took
High Honors in English. Priscilla took Honors in Classics, and
Phil in Mathematics. Stella obtained a good all-round showing.
Then came Convocation.
"This is what I would once have called an epoch in my life,"
said Anne, as she took Roy's violets out of their box and gazed
at them thoughtfully. She meant to carry them, of course, but
her eyes wandered to another box on her table. It was filled
with lilies-of-the-valley, as fresh and fragrant as those which
bloomed in the Green Gables yard when June came to Avonlea.
Gilbert Blythe's card lay beside it.
Anne wondered why Gilbert should have sent her flowers for Convocation.
She had seen very little of him during the past winter. He had come to
Patty's Place only one Friday evening since the Christmas holidays,
and they rarely met elsewhere. She knew he was studying very hard,
aiming at High Honors and the Cooper Prize, and he took little part
in the social doings of Redmond. Anne's own winter had been quite
gay socially. She had seen a good deal of the Gardners; she and
Dorothy were very intimate; college circles expected the announcement
of her engagement to Roy any day. Anne expected it herself. Yet
just before she left Patty's Place for Convocation she flung Roy's
violets aside and put Gilbert's lilies-of-the-valley in their place.
She could not have told why she did it. Somehow, old Avonlea days
and dreams and friendships seemed very close to her in this attainment
of her long-cherished ambitions. She and Gilbert had once picturedout
merrily the day on which they should be capped and gowned graduates in
Arts. The wonderful day had come and Roy's violets had no place in it.
Only her old friend's flowers seemed to belong to this fruition of
old-blossoming hopes which he had once shared.
For years this day had beckoned and allured to her; but when it
came the one single, keen, abiding memory it left with her was
not that of the breathless moment when the stately president of
Redmond gave her cap and diploma and hailed her B.A.; it was not
of the flash in Gilbert's eyes when he saw her lilies, nor the
puzzled pained glance Roy gave her as he passed her on the platform.
It was not of Aline Gardner's condescending congratulations, or
Dorothy's ardent, impulsive good wishes. It was of one strange,
unaccountable pang that spoiled this long-expected day for her
and left in it a certain faint but enduringflavor of bitterness.
The Arts graduates gave a graduation dance that night. When Anne
dressed for it she tossed aside the pearl beads she usually wore
and took from her trunk the small box that had come to Green Gables
on Christmas day. In it was a thread-like gold chain with a tiny
pink enamel heart as a pendant. On the accompanying card was written,
"With all good wishes from your old chum, Gilbert." Anne, laughing
over the memory the enamel heart conjured up the fatal day when
Gilbert had called her "Carrots" and vainly tried to make his peace
with a pink candy heart, had written him a nice little note of thanks.
But she had never worn the trinket. Tonight she fastened it about her
white throat with a dreamy smile.
She and Phil walked to Redmond together. Anne walked in silence;
Phil chattered of many things. Suddenly she said,
"I heard today that Gilbert Blythe's engagement to Christine
Stuart was to be announced as soon as Convocation was over.
Did you hear anything of it?"
"No," said Anne.
"I think it's true," said Phil lightly.
Anne did not speak. In the darkness she felt her face burning.
She slipped her hand inside her collar and caught at the gold
chain. One energetic twist and it gave way. Anne thrust the
broken trinket into her pocket. Her hands were trembling and
her eyes were smarting.
But she was the gayest of all the gay revellers that night, and
told Gilbert unregretfully that her card was full when he came to
ask her for a dance. Afterwards, when she sat with the girls
before the dying embers at Patty's Place, removing the spring
chilliness from their satin skins, none chatted more blithely
than she of the day's events.
"Moody Spurgeon MacPherson called here tonight after you left,"
said Aunt Jamesina, who had sat up to keep the fire on. "He didn't
know about the graduation dance. That boy ought to sleep with a
rubber band around his head to train his ears not to stick out.
I had a beau once who did that and it improved him immensely.
It was I who suggested it to him and he took my advice, but he
never forgave me for it."
"Moody Spurgeon is a very serious young man," yawned Priscilla.
"He is concerned with graver matters than his ears. He is going
to be a minister, you know."
"Well, I suppose the Lord doesn't regard the ears of a man,"
said Aunt Jamesina gravely, dropping all further criticism of
Moody Spurgeon. Aunt Jamesina had a proper respect for the
cloth even in the case of an unfledged parson.
Chapter XXXVIII
False Dawn
"Just imagine -- this night week I'll be in Avonlea -- delightful thought!"
said Anne, bending over the box in which she was packing Mrs. Rachel Lynde's
quilts. "But just imagine -- this night week I'll be gone forever from
Patty's Place -- horrible thought!"
"I wonder if the ghost of all our laughter will echo through the maiden
dreams of Miss Patty and Miss Maria," speculated Phil.
Miss Patty and Miss Maria were coming home, after having trotted over
most of the habitable globe.
"We'll be back the second week in May" wrote Miss Patty. "I expect
Dorothy lingered behind a moment to squeeze Anne's hand and
whisper impulsively.
"I KNOW you and I are going to be chums. Oh, Roy has told me all
about you. I'm the only one of the family he tells things to,
poor boy -- nobody COULD confide in mamma and Aline, you know.
What glorious times you girls must have here! Won't you let me
come often and have a share in them?"
"Come as often as you like," Anne responded heartily, thankful
that one of Roy's sisters was likable. She would never like
Aline, so much was certain; and Aline would never like her,
though Mrs. Gardner might be won. Altogether, Anne sighed with
relief when the ordeal was over.
"`Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are it might have been,'"
quoted Priscilla tragically, lifting the cushion. "This cake is
now what you might call a flat failure. And the cushion is
likewise ruined. Never tell me that Friday isn't unlucky."
"People who send word they are coming on Saturday shouldn't come
on Friday," said Aunt Jamesina.
"I fancy it was Roy's mistake," said Phil. "That boy isn't really
responsible for what he says when he talks to Anne. Where IS Anne?"
Anne had gone upstairs. She felt oddly like crying. But she
made herself laugh instead. Rusty and Joseph had been TOO awful!
And Dorothy WAS a dear.
Chapter XXXVII
Full-fledged B.A.'s
"I wish I were dead, or that it were tomorrow night," groaned Phil.
"If you live long enough both wishes will come true," said Anne calmly.
"It's easy for you to be serene. You're at home in Philosophy.
I'm not -- and when I think of that horrible paper tomorrow I quail.
If I should fail in it what would Jo say?"
"You won't fail. How did you get on in Greek today?"
"I don't know. Perhaps it was a good paper and perhaps it was
bad enough to make Homer turn over in his grave. I've studied
and mulled over notebooks until I'm incapable of forming an
opinion of anything. How thankful little Phil will be when all
this examinating is over."
"Examinating? I never heard such a word."
"Well, haven't I as good a right to make a word as any one else?"
demanded Phil.
"Words aren't made -- they grow," said Anne.
"Never mind -- I begin faintly to discern clear water ahead where
no examination breakers loom. Girls, do you -- can you realize
that our Redmond Life is almost over?"
"I can't," said Anne, sorrowfully. "It seems just yesterday
that Pris and I were alone in that crowd of Freshmen at Redmond.
And now we are Seniors in our final examinations."
"`Potent, wise, and reverend Seniors,'" quoted Phil. "Do you
suppose we really are any wiser than when we came to Redmond?"
"You don't act as if you were by times," said Aunt Jamesina severely.
"Oh, Aunt Jimsie, haven't we been pretty good girls, take us by
and large, these three winters you've mothered us?" pleaded Phil.
"You've been four of the dearest, sweetest, goodest girls that
ever went together through college," averred Aunt Jamesina, who
never spoiled a compliment by misplaced economy.
"But I mistrust you haven't any too much sense yet. It's not to
be expected, of course. Experience teaches sense. You can't
learn it in a college course. You've been to college four years
and I never was, but I know heaps more than you do, young ladies."
"`There are lots of things that never go by rule,
There's a powerful pile o' knowledge
That you never get at college,
There are heaps of things you never learn at school,'"
quoted Stella.
"Have you learned anything at Redmond except dead languages and
geometry and such trash?" queried Aunt Jamesina.
"Oh, yes. I think we have, Aunty," protested Anne.
"We've learned the truth of what Professor Woodleigh told us
last Philomathic," said Phil. "He said, `Humor is the spiciest
condiment in the feast of existence. Laugh at your mistakes
but learn from them, joke over your troubles but gather strength
from them, make a jest of your difficulties but overcome them.'
Isn't that worth learning, Aunt Jimsie?"
"Yes, it is, dearie. When you've learned to laugh at the things
that should be laughed at, and not to laugh at those that shouldn't,
you've got wisdom and understanding."
"What have you got out of your Redmond course, Anne?" murmured
Priscilla aside.
"I think," said Anne slowly, "that I really have learned to look
upon each little hindrance as a jest and each great one as the
foreshadowing of victory. Summing up, I think that is what
Redmond has given me."
"I shall have to fall back on another Professor Woodleigh
quotation to express what it has done for me," said Priscilla.
"You remember that he said in his address, `There is so much
in the world for us all if we only have the eyes to see it, and
the heart to love it, and the hand to gather it to ourselves --
so much in men and women, so much in art and literature, so much
everywhere in which to delight, and for which to be thankful.'
I think Redmond has taught me that in some measure, Anne."
"Judging from what you all, say" remarked Aunt Jamesina,
"the sum and substance is that you can learn -- if you've got
natural gumption enough -- in four years at college what it
would take about twenty years of living to teach you. Well,
that justifies higher education in my opinion. It's a matter
I was always dubious about before."
"But what about people who haven't natural gumption, Aunt Jimsie?"
"People who haven't natural gumption never learn," retorted
Aunt Jamesina, "neither in college nor life. If they live to
be a hundred they really don't know anything more than when they
were born. It's their misfortune not their fault, poor souls.
But those of us who have some gumption should duly thank the
Lord for it."
"Will you please define what gumption is, Aunt Jimsie?" asked Phil.
"No, I won't, young woman. Any one who has gumption knows what
it is, and any one who hasn't can never know what it is. So there
is no need of defining it."
The busy days flew by and examinations were over. Anne took
High Honors in English. Priscilla took Honors in Classics, and
Phil in Mathematics. Stella obtained a good all-round showing.
Then came Convocation.
"This is what I would once have called an epoch in my life,"
said Anne, as she took Roy's violets out of their box and gazed
at them thoughtfully. She meant to carry them, of course, but
her eyes wandered to another box on her table. It was filled
with lilies-of-the-valley, as fresh and fragrant as those which
bloomed in the Green Gables yard when June came to Avonlea.
Gilbert Blythe's card lay beside it.
Anne wondered why Gilbert should have sent her flowers for Convocation.
She had seen very little of him during the past winter. He had come to
Patty's Place only one Friday evening since the Christmas holidays,
and they rarely met elsewhere. She knew he was studying very hard,
aiming at High Honors and the Cooper Prize, and he took little part
in the social doings of Redmond. Anne's own winter had been quite
gay socially. She had seen a good deal of the Gardners; she and
Dorothy were very intimate; college circles expected the announcement
of her engagement to Roy any day. Anne expected it herself. Yet
just before she left Patty's Place for Convocation she flung Roy's
violets aside and put Gilbert's lilies-of-the-valley in their place.
She could not have told why she did it. Somehow, old Avonlea days
and dreams and friendships seemed very close to her in this attainment
of her long-cherished ambitions. She and Gilbert had once picturedout
merrily the day on which they should be capped and gowned graduates in
Arts. The wonderful day had come and Roy's violets had no place in it.
Only her old friend's flowers seemed to belong to this fruition of
old-blossoming hopes which he had once shared.
For years this day had beckoned and allured to her; but when it
came the one single, keen, abiding memory it left with her was
not that of the breathless moment when the stately president of
Redmond gave her cap and diploma and hailed her B.A.; it was not
of the flash in Gilbert's eyes when he saw her lilies, nor the
puzzled pained glance Roy gave her as he passed her on the platform.
It was not of Aline Gardner's condescending congratulations, or
Dorothy's ardent, impulsive good wishes. It was of one strange,
unaccountable pang that spoiled this long-expected day for her
and left in it a certain faint but enduringflavor of bitterness.
The Arts graduates gave a graduation dance that night. When Anne
dressed for it she tossed aside the pearl beads she usually wore
and took from her trunk the small box that had come to Green Gables
on Christmas day. In it was a thread-like gold chain with a tiny
pink enamel heart as a pendant. On the accompanying card was written,
"With all good wishes from your old chum, Gilbert." Anne, laughing
over the memory the enamel heart conjured up the fatal day when
Gilbert had called her "Carrots" and vainly tried to make his peace
with a pink candy heart, had written him a nice little note of thanks.
But she had never worn the trinket. Tonight she fastened it about her
white throat with a dreamy smile.
She and Phil walked to Redmond together. Anne walked in silence;
Phil chattered of many things. Suddenly she said,
"I heard today that Gilbert Blythe's engagement to Christine
Stuart was to be announced as soon as Convocation was over.
Did you hear anything of it?"
"No," said Anne.
"I think it's true," said Phil lightly.
Anne did not speak. In the darkness she felt her face burning.
She slipped her hand inside her collar and caught at the gold
chain. One energetic twist and it gave way. Anne thrust the
broken trinket into her pocket. Her hands were trembling and
her eyes were smarting.
But she was the gayest of all the gay revellers that night, and
told Gilbert unregretfully that her card was full when he came to
ask her for a dance. Afterwards, when she sat with the girls
before the dying embers at Patty's Place, removing the spring
chilliness from their satin skins, none chatted more blithely
than she of the day's events.
"Moody Spurgeon MacPherson called here tonight after you left,"
said Aunt Jamesina, who had sat up to keep the fire on. "He didn't
know about the graduation dance. That boy ought to sleep with a
rubber band around his head to train his ears not to stick out.
I had a beau once who did that and it improved him immensely.
It was I who suggested it to him and he took my advice, but he
never forgave me for it."
"Moody Spurgeon is a very serious young man," yawned Priscilla.
"He is concerned with graver matters than his ears. He is going
to be a minister, you know."
"Well, I suppose the Lord doesn't regard the ears of a man,"
said Aunt Jamesina gravely, dropping all further criticism of
Moody Spurgeon. Aunt Jamesina had a proper respect for the
cloth even in the case of an unfledged parson.
Chapter XXXVIII
False Dawn
"Just imagine -- this night week I'll be in Avonlea -- delightful thought!"
said Anne, bending over the box in which she was packing Mrs. Rachel Lynde's
quilts. "But just imagine -- this night week I'll be gone forever from
Patty's Place -- horrible thought!"
"I wonder if the ghost of all our laughter will echo through the maiden
dreams of Miss Patty and Miss Maria," speculated Phil.
Miss Patty and Miss Maria were coming home, after having trotted over
most of the habitable globe.
"We'll be back the second week in May" wrote Miss Patty. "I expect
- cushion [´kuʃən]
n.垫子，坐褥 (初中英语单词) - glorious [´glɔ:riəs] a.光荣的；辉煌的 (初中英语单词)
- altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
- failure [´feiljə] n.失败；衰竭；破产 (初中英语单词)
- horrible [´hɔrəbəl] a.可怕的；恐怖的 (初中英语单词)
- examination [ig,zæmi´neiʃən] n.检查；考试；检验 (初中英语单词)
- existence [ig´zistəns] n.存在；生存；生活 (初中英语单词)
- overcome [,əuvə´kʌm] vt.战胜，克服 (初中英语单词)
- learning [´lə:niŋ] n.学习；学问；知识 (初中英语单词)
- wisdom [´wizdəm] n.智慧，聪明，才智 (初中英语单词)
- victory [´viktəri] n.胜利，战胜 (初中英语单词)
- literature [´litərətʃə] n.文学；文献；著作 (初中英语单词)
- measure [´meʒə] n.量度；范围 vt.测量 (初中英语单词)
- rarely [´reəli] ad.难得；非凡地 (初中英语单词)
- elsewhere [,elsweə] ad.在别处；向别处 (初中英语单词)
- doings [´du:iŋz] n.行动；所作的事 (初中英语单词)
- intimate [´intimit] a.亲密的 n.知己 (初中英语单词)
- engagement [in´geidʒmənt] n.婚约；雇用；受聘 (初中英语单词)
- flavor [´fleivə] n.滋味 vt.给....调味 (初中英语单词)
- throat [θrəut] n.咽喉；嗓子；出入口 (初中英语单词)
- collar [´kɔlə] n.衣领；(狗等的)项圈 (初中英语单词)
- thrust [θrʌst] v.&n.猛推；冲；刺；挤进 (初中英语单词)
- minister [´ministə] n.部长；大臣 v.伺候 (初中英语单词)
- gravely [´greivli] ad.庄重地，严肃地 (初中英语单词)
- criticism [´kritisizəm] n.批评；评论(文) (初中英语单词)
- delightful [di´laitful] a.讨人喜欢的 (初中英语单词)
- laughter [´lɑ:ftə] n.笑，笑声 (初中英语单词)
- squeeze [skwi:z] v.&n.压榨，榨取 (高中英语单词)
- confide [kən´faid] v.委托；吐露；信任 (高中英语单词)
- heartily [´hɑ:tili] ad.衷心地；亲切地 (高中英语单词)
- serene [si´ri:n] n.&a.清澈的；宁静的 (高中英语单词)
- thankful [´θæŋkfəl] a.感激的；欣慰的 (高中英语单词)
- faintly [´feintli] ad.微弱地，软弱无力的 (高中英语单词)
- discern [di´sə:n] v.辩认出 (高中英语单词)
- reverend [´revərənd] a.可尊敬的 (高中英语单词)
- compliment [´kɔmplimənt] n.敬意 vt.赞美；祝贺 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- misfortune [mis´fɔ:tʃən] n.不幸；灾祸 (高中英语单词)
- define [di´fain] vt.解释；说明；限定 (高中英语单词)
- thoughtfully [´θɔ:tfuli] ad.深思地；体贴地 (高中英语单词)
- fragrant [´freigrənt] a.芳香的，芬芳的 (高中英语单词)
- breathless [´breθlis] a.屏息的 (高中英语单词)
- stately [´steitli] a.庄严的，雄伟的 (高中英语单词)
- vainly [´veinli] ad.虚荣地；自负地 (高中英语单词)
- concerned [kən´sə:nd] a.有关的；担心的 (高中英语单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- incapable [in´keipəbəl] a.无能力的；不能的 (英语四级单词)
- mathematics [,mæθə´mætiks] n.数学 (英语四级单词)
- ardent [´ɑ:dənt] a.热心的；热情洋溢的 (英语四级单词)
- enamel [i´næm(ə)l] n.搪瓷；珐琅 (英语四级单词)
- energetic [,enə´dʒetik] a.精力旺盛的；有力的 (英语四级单词)
- ordeal [ɔ:´di:l] n.严峻考验；折磨 (英语六级单词)
- mistrust [mis´trʌst] v.&n.不信任；怀疑 (英语六级单词)
- hindrance [´hindrəns] n.障碍，妨碍 (英语六级单词)
- dubious [´dju:biəs] a.怀疑的；可疑的 (英语六级单词)
- cooper [´ku:pə] v.&n.制桶工人；修桶工人 (英语六级单词)
- socially [´səuʃəli] ad.社交上；社会上 (英语六级单词)
- diploma [di´pləumə] n.文凭，证书 (英语六级单词)
- impulsive [im´pʌlsiv] a.易冲动的 (英语六级单词)
- enduring [in´djuəriŋ] a.持久的 (英语六级单词)
- graduation [,grædʒu´eiʃən] n.毕业(典礼)；刻度 (英语六级单词)
- dreamy [´dri:mi] a.心不在焉的；朦胧的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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