章节正文
without a sense of loss. And oh, I never came home to Green Gables
before that Diana wasn't here to welcome me."
"Diana has something else to think of just now," said Mrs. Lynde
significantly.
"Well, tell me all the Avonlea news," said Anne, sitting down on
the porch steps, where the evening sunshine fell over her hair
in a fine golden rain.
"There isn't much news except what we've wrote you," said Mrs. Lynde.
"I suppose you haven't heard that Simon Fletcher broke his leg last week.
It's a great thing for his family. They're getting a hundred things done
that they've always wanted to do but couldn't as long as he was about,
the old crank."
"He came of an aggravating family," remarked Marilla.
"Aggravating? Well, rather! His mother used to get up in
prayer-meeting and tell all her children's shortcomings and ask
prayers for them. `Course it made them mad, and worse than ever."
"You haven't told Anne the news about Jane," suggested Marilla.
"Oh, Jane," sniffed Mrs. Lynde. "Well," she conceded grudgingly,
"Jane Andrews is home from the West -- came last week -- and she's
going to be married to a Winnipeg millionaire. You may be sure
Mrs. Harmon lost no time in telling it far and wide."
"Dear old Jane -- I'm so glad," said Anne heartily. "She deserves
the good things of life."
"Oh, I ain't saying anything against Jane. She's a nice enough girl.
But she isn't in the millionaire class, and you'll find there's not
much to recommend that man but his money, that's what. Mrs. Harmon
says he's an Englishman who has made money in mines but _I_ believe
he'll turn out to be a Yankee. He certainly must have money, for
he has just showered Jane with jewelry. Her engagement ring is a
diamond cluster so big that it looks like a plaster on Jane's fat paw."
Mrs. Lynde could not keep some bitterness out of her tone.
Here was Jane Andrews, that plain little plodder, engaged
to a millionaire, while Anne, it seemed, was not yet bespoken
by any one, rich or poor. And Mrs. Harmon Andrews did brag
insufferably.
"What has Gilbert Blythe been doing to at college?" asked Marilla.
"I saw him when he came home last week, and he is so pale and thin
I hardly knew him."
"He studied very hard last winter," said Anne. "You know he
took High Honors in Classics and the Cooper Prize. It hasn't
been taken for five years! So I think he's rather run down.
We're all a little tired."
"Anyhow, you're a B.A. and Jane Andrews isn't and never will be,"
said Mrs. Lynde, with gloomy satisfaction.
A few evenings later Anne went down to see Jane, but the latter
was away in Charlottetown -- "getting sewing done," Mrs. Harmon
informed Anne proudly. "Of course an Avonlea dressmaker wouldn't
do for Jane under the circumstances."
"I've heard something very nice about Jane," said Anne.
"Yes, Jane has done pretty well, even if she isn't a B.A.," said
Mrs. Harmon, with a slight toss of her head. "Mr. Inglis is worth
millions, and they're going to Europe on their wedding tour.
When they come back they'll live in a perfect mansion of marble
in Winnipeg. Jane has only one trouble -- she can cook so well
and her husband won't let her cook. He is so rich he hires
his cooking done. They're going to keep a cook and two other
maids and a coachman and a man-of-all-work. But what about YOU,
Anne? I don't hear anything of your being married, after all
your college-going."
"Oh," laughed Anne, "I am going to be an old maid. I really
can't find any one to suit me." It was rather wicked of her.
She deliberately meant to remind Mrs. Andrews that if she became
an old maid it was not because she had not had at least one
chance of marriage. But Mrs. Harmon took swift revenge.
"Well, the over-particular girls generally get left, I notice.
And what's this I hear about Gilbert Blythe being engaged to a
Miss Stuart? Charlie Sloane tells me she is perfectly beautiful.
Is it true?"
"I don't know if it is true that he is engaged to Miss Stuart,"
replied Anne, with Spartan composure, "but it is certainly true
that she is very lovely."
"I once thought you and Gilbert would have made a match of it,"
said Mrs. Harmon. "If you don't take care, Anne, all of your
beaux will slip through your fingers."
Anne decided not to continue her duel with Mrs. Harmon.
You could not fence with an antagonist who met rapier thrust
with blow of battle axe.
"Since Jane is away," she said, rising haughtily, "I don't think
I can stay longer this morning. I'll come down when she comes home."
"Do," said Mrs. Harmon effusively. "Jane isn't a bit proud.
She just means to associate with her old friends the same as ever.
She'll be real glad to see you."
Jane's millionaire arrived the last of May and carried her off in
a blaze of splendor. Mrs. Lynde was spitefully gratified to
find that Mr. Inglis was every day of forty, and short and thin
and grayish. Mrs. Lynde did not spare him in her enumeration of
his shortcomings, you may be sure.
"It will take all his gold to gild a pill like him, that's what,"
said Mrs. Rachel solemnly.
"He looks kind and good-hearted," said Anne loyally, "and I'm
sure he thinks the world of Jane."
"Humph!" said Mrs. Rachel.
Phil Gordon was married the next week and Anne went over to
Bolingbroke to be her bridesmaid. Phil made a dainty fairy of
a bride, and the Rev. Jo was so radiant in his happiness that
nobody thought him plain.
"We're going for a lovers' saunter through the land of Evangeline,"
said Phil, "and then we'll settle down on Patterson Street.
Mother thinks it is terrible -- she thinks Jo might at least
take a church in a decent place. But the wilderness of the
Patterson slums will blossom like the rose for me if Jo is there.
Oh, Anne, I'm so happy my heart aches with it."
Anne was always glad in the happiness of her friends; but it
is sometimes a little lonely to be surrounded everywhere by a
happiness that is not your own. And it was just the same when
she went back to Avonlea. This time it was Diana who was bathed
in the wonderful glory that comes to a woman when her first-born
is laid beside her. Anne looked at the white young mother with a
certain awe that had never entered into her feelings for Diana
before. Could this pale woman with the rapture in her eyes be
the little black-curled, rosy-cheeked Diana she had played with
in vanished schooldays? It gave her a queer desolate feeling
that she herself somehow belonged only in those past years and
had no business in the present at all.
"Isn't he perfectly beautiful?" said Diana proudly.
The little fat fellow was absurdly like Fred -- just as round,
just as red. Anne really could not say conscientiously that she
thought him beautiful, but she vowed sincerely that he was sweet
and kissable and altogether delightful.
"Before he came I wanted a girl, so that I could call her ANNE,"
said Diana. "But now that little Fred is here I wouldn't exchange
him for a million girls. He just COULDN'T have been anything but
his own precious self."
"`Every little baby is the sweetest and the best,' " quoted
Mrs. Allan gaily. "If little Anne HAD come you'd have felt
just the same about her."
Mrs. Allan was visiting in Avonlea, for the first time since
leaving it. She was as gay and sweet and sympathetic as ever.
Her old girl friends had welcomed her back rapturously.
The reigning minister's wife was an estimable lady, but she
was not exactly a kindred spirit.
"I can hardly wait till he gets old enough to talk," sighed Diana.
"I just long to hear him say `mother.' And oh, I'm determined that
his first memory of me shall be a nice one. The first memory I
have of my mother is of her slapping me for something I had done.
I am sure I deserved it, and mother was always a good mother and I
love her dearly. But I do wish my first memory of her was nicer."
"I have just one memory of my mother and it is the sweetest of
all my memories," said Mrs. Allan. "I was five years old, and I
had been allowed to go to school one day with my two older sisters.
When school came out my sisters went home in different groups, each
supposing I was with the other. Instead I had run off with a little
girl I had played with at recess. We went to her home, which was
near the school, and began making mud pies. We were having a
glorious time when my older sister arrived, breathless and angry.
"`You naughty girl" she cried, snatching my reluctant hand and
dragging me along with her. `Come home this minute. Oh, you're
going to catch it! Mother is awful cross. She is going to give
you a good whipping.'
"I had never been whipped. Dread and terror filled my poor
little heart. I have never been so miserable in my life as I was
on that walk home. I had not meant to be naughty. Phemy Cameron
had asked me to go home with her and I had not known it was wrong
to go. And now I was to be whipped for it. When we got home my
sister dragged me into the kitchen where mother was sitting by
the fire in the twilight. My poor wee legs were trembling so
that I could hardly stand. And mother -- mother just took me up
in her arms, without one word of rebuke or harshness, kissed me
and held me close to her heart. `I was so frightened you were
lost, darling,' she said tenderly. I could see the love shining
in her eyes as she looked down on me. She never scolded or
reproached me for what I had done -- only told me I must never go
away again without asking permission. She died very soon
afterwards. That is the only memory I have of her. Isn't it a
beautiful one?"
Anne felt lonelier than ever as she walked home, going by way of
the Birch Path and Willowmere. She had not walked that way for
many moons. It was a darkly-purple bloomy night. The air was
heavy with blossomfragrance -- almost too heavy. The cloyed
senses recoiled from it as from an overfull cup. The birches of
the path had grown from the fairy saplings of old to big trees.
Everything had changed. Anne felt that she would be glad when
the summer was over and she was away at work again. Perhaps life
would not seem so empty then.
"`I've tried the world -- it wears no more
The coloring of romance it wore,'"
sighed Anne -- and was straightway much comforted by the romance
in the idea of the world being denuded of romance!
Chapter XL
A Book of Revelation
The Irvings came back to Echo Lodge for the summer, and Anne spent
a happy three weeks there in July. Miss Lavendar had not changed;
Charlotta the Fourth was a very grown-up young lady now, but still
adored Anne sincerely.
"When all's said and done, Miss Shirley, ma'am, I haven't seen
any one in Boston that's equal to you," she said frankly.
Paul was almost grown up, too. He was sixteen, his chestnut
curls had given place to close-cropped brown locks, and he was
more interested in football than fairies. But the bond between
him and his old teacher still held. Kindred spirits alone do not
change with changing years.
It was a wet, bleak, cruel evening in July when Anne came back to
Green Gables. One of the fierce summer storms which sometimes
sweep over the gulf was ravaging the sea. As Anne came in the
first raindrops dashed against the panes.
"Was that Paul who brought you home?" asked Marilla. "Why didn't
you make him stay all night. It's going to be a wild evening."
"He'll reach Echo Lodge before the rain gets very heavy, I think.
Anyway, he wanted to go back tonight. Well, I've had a splendid
visit, but I'm glad to see you dear folks again. `East, west,
hame's best.' Davy, have you been growing again lately?"
before that Diana wasn't here to welcome me."
"Diana has something else to think of just now," said Mrs. Lynde
significantly.
"Well, tell me all the Avonlea news," said Anne, sitting down on
the porch steps, where the evening sunshine fell over her hair
in a fine golden rain.
"There isn't much news except what we've wrote you," said Mrs. Lynde.
"I suppose you haven't heard that Simon Fletcher broke his leg last week.
It's a great thing for his family. They're getting a hundred things done
that they've always wanted to do but couldn't as long as he was about,
the old crank."
"He came of an aggravating family," remarked Marilla.
"Aggravating? Well, rather! His mother used to get up in
prayer-meeting and tell all her children's shortcomings and ask
prayers for them. `Course it made them mad, and worse than ever."
"You haven't told Anne the news about Jane," suggested Marilla.
"Oh, Jane," sniffed Mrs. Lynde. "Well," she conceded grudgingly,
"Jane Andrews is home from the West -- came last week -- and she's
going to be married to a Winnipeg millionaire. You may be sure
Mrs. Harmon lost no time in telling it far and wide."
"Dear old Jane -- I'm so glad," said Anne heartily. "She deserves
the good things of life."
"Oh, I ain't saying anything against Jane. She's a nice enough girl.
But she isn't in the millionaire class, and you'll find there's not
much to recommend that man but his money, that's what. Mrs. Harmon
says he's an Englishman who has made money in mines but _I_ believe
he'll turn out to be a Yankee. He certainly must have money, for
he has just showered Jane with jewelry. Her engagement ring is a
diamond cluster so big that it looks like a plaster on Jane's fat paw."
Mrs. Lynde could not keep some bitterness out of her tone.
Here was Jane Andrews, that plain little plodder, engaged
to a millionaire, while Anne, it seemed, was not yet bespoken
by any one, rich or poor. And Mrs. Harmon Andrews did brag
insufferably.
"What has Gilbert Blythe been doing to at college?" asked Marilla.
"I saw him when he came home last week, and he is so pale and thin
I hardly knew him."
"He studied very hard last winter," said Anne. "You know he
took High Honors in Classics and the Cooper Prize. It hasn't
been taken for five years! So I think he's rather run down.
We're all a little tired."
"Anyhow, you're a B.A. and Jane Andrews isn't and never will be,"
said Mrs. Lynde, with gloomy satisfaction.
A few evenings later Anne went down to see Jane, but the latter
was away in Charlottetown -- "getting sewing done," Mrs. Harmon
informed Anne proudly. "Of course an Avonlea dressmaker wouldn't
do for Jane under the circumstances."
"I've heard something very nice about Jane," said Anne.
"Yes, Jane has done pretty well, even if she isn't a B.A.," said
Mrs. Harmon, with a slight toss of her head. "Mr. Inglis is worth
millions, and they're going to Europe on their wedding tour.
When they come back they'll live in a perfect mansion of marble
in Winnipeg. Jane has only one trouble -- she can cook so well
and her husband won't let her cook. He is so rich he hires
his cooking done. They're going to keep a cook and two other
maids and a coachman and a man-of-all-work. But what about YOU,
Anne? I don't hear anything of your being married, after all
your college-going."
"Oh," laughed Anne, "I am going to be an old maid. I really
can't find any one to suit me." It was rather wicked of her.
She deliberately meant to remind Mrs. Andrews that if she became
an old maid it was not because she had not had at least one
chance of marriage. But Mrs. Harmon took swift revenge.
"Well, the over-particular girls generally get left, I notice.
And what's this I hear about Gilbert Blythe being engaged to a
Miss Stuart? Charlie Sloane tells me she is perfectly beautiful.
Is it true?"
"I don't know if it is true that he is engaged to Miss Stuart,"
replied Anne, with Spartan composure, "but it is certainly true
that she is very lovely."
"I once thought you and Gilbert would have made a match of it,"
said Mrs. Harmon. "If you don't take care, Anne, all of your
beaux will slip through your fingers."
Anne decided not to continue her duel with Mrs. Harmon.
You could not fence with an antagonist who met rapier thrust
with blow of battle axe.
"Since Jane is away," she said, rising haughtily, "I don't think
I can stay longer this morning. I'll come down when she comes home."
"Do," said Mrs. Harmon effusively. "Jane isn't a bit proud.
She just means to associate with her old friends the same as ever.
She'll be real glad to see you."
Jane's millionaire arrived the last of May and carried her off in
a blaze of splendor. Mrs. Lynde was spitefully gratified to
find that Mr. Inglis was every day of forty, and short and thin
and grayish. Mrs. Lynde did not spare him in her enumeration of
his shortcomings, you may be sure.
"It will take all his gold to gild a pill like him, that's what,"
said Mrs. Rachel solemnly.
"He looks kind and good-hearted," said Anne loyally, "and I'm
sure he thinks the world of Jane."
"Humph!" said Mrs. Rachel.
Phil Gordon was married the next week and Anne went over to
Bolingbroke to be her bridesmaid. Phil made a dainty fairy of
a bride, and the Rev. Jo was so radiant in his happiness that
nobody thought him plain.
"We're going for a lovers' saunter through the land of Evangeline,"
said Phil, "and then we'll settle down on Patterson Street.
Mother thinks it is terrible -- she thinks Jo might at least
take a church in a decent place. But the wilderness of the
Patterson slums will blossom like the rose for me if Jo is there.
Oh, Anne, I'm so happy my heart aches with it."
Anne was always glad in the happiness of her friends; but it
is sometimes a little lonely to be surrounded everywhere by a
happiness that is not your own. And it was just the same when
she went back to Avonlea. This time it was Diana who was bathed
in the wonderful glory that comes to a woman when her first-born
is laid beside her. Anne looked at the white young mother with a
certain awe that had never entered into her feelings for Diana
before. Could this pale woman with the rapture in her eyes be
the little black-curled, rosy-cheeked Diana she had played with
in vanished schooldays? It gave her a queer desolate feeling
that she herself somehow belonged only in those past years and
had no business in the present at all.
"Isn't he perfectly beautiful?" said Diana proudly.
The little fat fellow was absurdly like Fred -- just as round,
just as red. Anne really could not say conscientiously that she
thought him beautiful, but she vowed sincerely that he was sweet
and kissable and altogether delightful.
"Before he came I wanted a girl, so that I could call her ANNE,"
said Diana. "But now that little Fred is here I wouldn't exchange
him for a million girls. He just COULDN'T have been anything but
his own precious self."
"`Every little baby is the sweetest and the best,' " quoted
Mrs. Allan gaily. "If little Anne HAD come you'd have felt
just the same about her."
Mrs. Allan was visiting in Avonlea, for the first time since
leaving it. She was as gay and sweet and sympathetic as ever.
Her old girl friends had welcomed her back rapturously.
The reigning minister's wife was an estimable lady, but she
was not exactly a kindred spirit.
"I can hardly wait till he gets old enough to talk," sighed Diana.
"I just long to hear him say `mother.' And oh, I'm determined that
his first memory of me shall be a nice one. The first memory I
have of my mother is of her slapping me for something I had done.
I am sure I deserved it, and mother was always a good mother and I
love her dearly. But I do wish my first memory of her was nicer."
"I have just one memory of my mother and it is the sweetest of
all my memories," said Mrs. Allan. "I was five years old, and I
had been allowed to go to school one day with my two older sisters.
When school came out my sisters went home in different groups, each
supposing I was with the other. Instead I had run off with a little
girl I had played with at recess. We went to her home, which was
near the school, and began making mud pies. We were having a
glorious time when my older sister arrived, breathless and angry.
"`You naughty girl" she cried, snatching my reluctant hand and
dragging me along with her. `Come home this minute. Oh, you're
going to catch it! Mother is awful cross. She is going to give
you a good whipping.'
"I had never been whipped. Dread and terror filled my poor
little heart. I have never been so miserable in my life as I was
on that walk home. I had not meant to be naughty. Phemy Cameron
had asked me to go home with her and I had not known it was wrong
to go. And now I was to be whipped for it. When we got home my
sister dragged me into the kitchen where mother was sitting by
the fire in the twilight. My poor wee legs were trembling so
that I could hardly stand. And mother -- mother just took me up
in her arms, without one word of rebuke or harshness, kissed me
and held me close to her heart. `I was so frightened you were
lost, darling,' she said tenderly. I could see the love shining
in her eyes as she looked down on me. She never scolded or
reproached me for what I had done -- only told me I must never go
away again without asking permission. She died very soon
afterwards. That is the only memory I have of her. Isn't it a
beautiful one?"
Anne felt lonelier than ever as she walked home, going by way of
the Birch Path and Willowmere. She had not walked that way for
many moons. It was a darkly-purple bloomy night. The air was
heavy with blossomfragrance -- almost too heavy. The cloyed
senses recoiled from it as from an overfull cup. The birches of
the path had grown from the fairy saplings of old to big trees.
Everything had changed. Anne felt that she would be glad when
the summer was over and she was away at work again. Perhaps life
would not seem so empty then.
"`I've tried the world -- it wears no more
The coloring of romance it wore,'"
sighed Anne -- and was straightway much comforted by the romance
in the idea of the world being denuded of romance!
Chapter XL
A Book of Revelation
The Irvings came back to Echo Lodge for the summer, and Anne spent
a happy three weeks there in July. Miss Lavendar had not changed;
Charlotta the Fourth was a very grown-up young lady now, but still
adored Anne sincerely.
"When all's said and done, Miss Shirley, ma'am, I haven't seen
any one in Boston that's equal to you," she said frankly.
Paul was almost grown up, too. He was sixteen, his chestnut
curls had given place to close-cropped brown locks, and he was
more interested in football than fairies. But the bond between
him and his old teacher still held. Kindred spirits alone do not
change with changing years.
It was a wet, bleak, cruel evening in July when Anne came back to
Green Gables. One of the fierce summer storms which sometimes
sweep over the gulf was ravaging the sea. As Anne came in the
first raindrops dashed against the panes.
"Was that Paul who brought you home?" asked Marilla. "Why didn't
you make him stay all night. It's going to be a wild evening."
"He'll reach Echo Lodge before the rain gets very heavy, I think.
Anyway, he wanted to go back tonight. Well, I've had a splendid
visit, but I'm glad to see you dear folks again. `East, west,
hame's best.' Davy, have you been growing again lately?"
- welcome [´welkəm]
a.受欢迎的；可喜的 (初中英语单词) - sunshine [´sʌnʃain] n.日光，阳光 (初中英语单词)
- recommend [,rekə´mend] vt.推荐；使受欢迎 (初中英语单词)
- yankee [´jæŋki] n.美国佬；美国公民 (初中英语单词)
- engagement [in´geidʒmənt] n.婚约；雇用；受聘 (初中英语单词)
- cluster [´klʌstə] n.一串 v.群集；丛生 (初中英语单词)
- proudly [´praudli] ad.骄傲地；傲慢地 (初中英语单词)
- wedding [´wediŋ] n.婚礼，结婚 (初中英语单词)
- wicked [´wikid] a.邪恶的；不道德的 (初中英语单词)
- remind [ri´maind] vt.提醒；使记(想)起 (初中英语单词)
- associate [ə´səuʃieit] v.联合a.同伴的n.伙伴 (初中英语单词)
- splendor [´splendə] n.壮丽 =splendour (初中英语单词)
- wilderness [´wildənis] n.荒地，荒野 (初中英语单词)
- blossom [´blɔsəm] n.花；开花期 vi.开花 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
- sympathetic [,simpə´θetik] a.同情的，有同情心的 (初中英语单词)
- terror [´terə] n.恐怖；惊骇 (初中英语单词)
- miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- permission [pə´miʃən] n.允许；同意；许可 (初中英语单词)
- romance [rəu´mæns] n.中世纪骑士小说 (初中英语单词)
- grown-up [´grəun-ʌp] n.成年人 a.成熟的 (初中英语单词)
- fierce [fiəs] a.残忍的；强烈的 (初中英语单词)
- millionaire [,miljə´neə] n.百万富翁 (高中英语单词)
- heartily [´hɑ:tili] ad.衷心地；亲切地 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- jewelry [´dʒu:əlri] n.珠宝(饰物) (高中英语单词)
- plaster [´plɑ:stə] n.灰泥 vt.厚厚地涂抹 (高中英语单词)
- bitterness [´bitənis] n.苦味；辛酸；苦难 (高中英语单词)
- studied [´stʌdid] a.故意的；有计划的 (高中英语单词)
- gloomy [´glu:mi] a.昏暗的；忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- sewing [´səuiŋ] n.缝纫；(书的)装订 (高中英语单词)
- mansion [´mænʃən] n.大厦；宅第；官邸 (高中英语单词)
- deliberately [di´libərətli] ad.故意地；慎重地 (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- dainty [´deinti] a.秀丽的 n.美味 (高中英语单词)
- radiant [´reidiənt] a.发光的 n.光源(体) (高中英语单词)
- decent [´di:sənt] a.体面的，正派的 (高中英语单词)
- rapture [´ræptʃə] n.着迷；全神贯注 (高中英语单词)
- desolate [´desəleit] a.荒凉的；孤独的 (高中英语单词)
- sincerely [sin´siəli] ad.真诚地；诚恳地 (高中英语单词)
- kindred [´kindrid] n.亲属关系；同源关系 (高中英语单词)
- recess [ri´ses] n.休息；休会 (高中英语单词)
- breathless [´breθlis] a.屏息的 (高中英语单词)
- naughty [´nɔ:ti] a.顽皮的；下流的 (高中英语单词)
- rebuke [ri´bju:k] vt.&n.指责；训斥 (高中英语单词)
- tenderly [´tendəli] ad.娇嫩地；柔和地 (高中英语单词)
- fragrance [´freigrəns] n.芬芳，芳香 (高中英语单词)
- straightway [´streitwei] ad.立刻 (高中英语单词)
- dressmaker [´dres,meikə] n.(女)裁缝 (英语四级单词)
- coachman [´kəutʃmən] n.赶马车人 (英语四级单词)
- composure [kəm´pəuʒə] n.镇静，沉着 (英语四级单词)
- antagonist [æn´tægənist] n.敌手，反对者，对手 (英语四级单词)
- dearly [´diəli] ad.深深地(爱等)；昂贵 (英语四级单词)
- reluctant [ri´lʌktənt] a.勉强的；难得到的 (英语四级单词)
- cooper [´ku:pə] v.&n.制桶工人；修桶工人 (英语六级单词)
- haughtily [´hɔ:tili] ad.傲慢地，高傲地 (英语六级单词)
- saunter [´sɔ:ntə] n.&vi.闲逛；漫步 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
