章节正文
A thunderstorm was coming on. The sky had darkened up
with a great blue-black storm-cloud rushing over, and they hadn't noticed it.
I didn't mind, and the fish bit best in a storm. But just as she said `happy'
came a blinding flash and a crash that shook the ridges,
and the first drops came peltering down. They jumped up and climbed the bank,
while I perched on the she-oak roots over the water to be out of sight
as they passed. Half way to the town I saw them standing
in the shelter of an old stone chimney that stood alone.
He had his overcoat round her and was sheltering her from the wind. . . ."
"Smoke-oh, Joe. The tea's stewing."
Mitchell got up, stretched himself, and brought the billy and pint-pots
to the head of my camp. The moon had grown misty. The plain horizon had
closed in. A couple of boughs, hanging from the gnarled and blasted timber
over the billabong, were the perfect shapes of two men hanging side by side.
Mitchell scratched the back of his neck and looked down at the pup
curled like a glob of mud on the sand in the moonlight,
and an idea struck him. He got a big old felt hat he had,
lifted his pup, nose to tail, fitted it in the hat, shook it down,
holding the hat by the brim, and stood the hat near the head of his doss,
out of the moonlight. "He might get moonstruck," said Mitchell,
"and I don't want that pup to be a genius." The pup seemed
perfectly satisfied with this new arrangement.
"Have a smoke," said Mitchell. "You see," he added, with a sly grin,
"I've got to make up the yarn as I go along, and it's hard work.
It seems to begin to remind me of yarns your grandmother or aunt
tells of things that happened when she was a girl -- but those yarns are true.
You won't have to listen long now; I'm well on into the second volume.
"After the storm I hurried home to the tent -- I was batching
with a carpenter. I changed my clothes, made a fire in the fire-bucket
with shavings and ends of soft wood, boiled the billy,
and had a cup of coffee. It was Saturday night. My mate was at the Royal;
it was cold and dismal in the tent, and there was nothing to read,
so I reckoned I might as well go up to the Royal, too, and put in the time.
"I had to pass the Bank on the way. It was the usual weatherboard box
with a galvanised iron top -- four rooms and a passage,
and a detached kitchen and wash-house at the back; the front room to the right
(behind the office) was the family bedroom, and the one opposite it
was the living room. The `Advertiser' office was next door.
Jack Drew camped in a skillion room behind his printing office,
and had his meals at the Royal. I noticed the storm had taken a sheet of iron
off the skillion, and supposed he'd sleep at the Royal that night.
Next to the `Advertiser' office was the police station (still called
the Police Camp) and the Courthouse. Next was the Imperial Hotel,
where the scrub aristocrats went. There was a vacant allotment
on the other side of the Bank, and I took a short cut across this
to the Royal.
"They'd forgotten to pull down the blind of the dining-room window,
and I happened to glance through and saw she had Jack Drew in there
and was giving him a cup of tea. He had a bad cold, I remember,
and I suppose his health had got precious to her, poor girl.
As I glanced she stepped to the window and pulled down the blind,
which put me out of face a bit -- though, of course, she hadn't seen me.
I was rather surprised at her having Jack in there, till I heard
that the banker, the postmaster, the constable, and some others
were making a night of it at the Imperial, as they'd been doing
pretty often lately -- and went on doing till there was a blow-up about it,
and the constable got transferred Out Back. I used to drink my share then.
We smoked and played cards and yarned and filled 'em up again at the Royal
till after one in the morning. Then I started home.
"I'd finished giving the Bank a couple of coats of stone-colour that week,
and was cutting in in dark colour round the spouting, doors,
and window-frames that Saturday. My head was pretty clear going home,
and as I passed the place it struck me that I'd left out
the only varnish brush I had. I'd been using it to give the sashes
a coat of varnish colour, and remembered that I'd left it
on one of the window-sills -- the sill of her bedroom window, as it happened.
I knew I'd sleep in next day, Sunday, and guessed it would be hot,
and I didn't want the varnish tool to get spoiled; so I reckoned I'd slip in
through the side gate, get it, and take it home to camp and put it in oil.
The window sash was jammed, I remember, and I hadn't been able
to get it up more than a couple of inches to paint the runs of the sash.
The grass grew up close under the window, and I slipped in quietly. I noticed
the sash was still up a couple of inches. Just as I grabbed the brush
I heard low voices inside -- Ruth Wilson's and Jack Drew's -- in her room.
"The surprise sent about a pint of beer up into my throat in a lump.
I tip-toed away out of there. Just as I got clear of the gate
I saw the banker being helped home by a couple of cronies.
"I went home to the camp and turned in, but I couldn't sleep.
I lay think--think--thinking, till I thought all the drink out of my head.
I'd brought a bottle of ale home to last over Sunday, and I drank that.
It only made matters worse. I didn't know how I felt -- I -- well,
I felt as if I was as good a man as Jack Drew -- I --
you see I've -- you might think it soft -- but I loved that girl,
not as I've been gone on other girls, but in the old-fashioned, soft,
honest, hopeless, far-away sort of way; and now, to tell the straight truth,
I thought I might have had her. You lose a thing through being
too straight or sentimental, or not having enough cheek; and another man
comes along with more brass in his blood and less sentimental rot
and takes it up -- and the world respects him; and you feel in your heart
that you're a weaker man than he is. Why, part of the time I must have felt
like a man does when a better man runs away with his wife.
But I'd drunk a lot, and was upset and lonely-feeling that night.
"Oh, but Redclay had a tremendoussensation next day! Jack Drew,
of all the men in the world, had been caught in the act of robbing the bank.
According to Browne's account in court and in the newspapers,
he returned home that night at about twelve o'clock (which I knew was a lie,
for I saw him being helped home nearer two) and immediately retired to rest
(on top of the quilt, boots and all, I suppose). Some time before daybreak
he was roused by a fancied noise (I suppose it was his head swelling);
he rose, turned up a night lamp (he hadn't lit it, I'll swear),
and went through the dining-room passage and office to investigate
(for whisky and water). He saw that the doors and windows were secure,
returned to bed, and fell asleep again.
"There is something in a deaf person's being roused easily.
I know the case of a deaf chap who'd start up at a step or movement
in the house when no one else could hear or feel it; keen sense of vibration,
I reckon. Well, just at daybreak (to shorten the yarn)
the banker woke suddenly, he said, and heard a crack like a shot in the house.
There was a loose flooring-board in the passage that went off
like a pistol-shot sometimes when you trod on it; and I guess Jack Drew
trod on it, sneaking out, and he weighed nearly twelve stone.
If the truth were known, he probably heard Browne poking round,
tried the window, found the sash jammed, and was slipping through the passage
to the back door. Browne got his revolver, opened his door suddenly,
and caught Drew standing between the girl's door (which was shut)
and the office door, with his coat on his arm and his boots in his hands.
Browne covered him with his revolver, swore he'd shoot if he moved,
and yelled for help. Drew stood a moment like a man stunned;
then he rushed Browne, and in the struggle the revolver went off,
and Drew got hit in the arm. Two of the mounted troopers -- who'd been up
looking to the horses for an early start somewhere -- rushed in then,
and took Drew. He had nothing to say. What could he say? He couldn't say
he was a blackguard who'd taken advantage of a poor unprotected girl
because she loved him. They found the back door unlocked, by the way,
which was put down to the burglar; of course Browne couldn't explain
that he came home too muddled to lock doors after him.
"And the girl? She shrieked and fell when the row started,
and they found her like a log on the floor of her room after it was over.
"They found in Jack's overcoat pocket a parcel containing a cold chisel,
small screw-wrench, file, and one or two other things
that he'd bought that evening to tinker up the old printing press.
I knew that, because I'd lent him a hand a few nights before,
and he told me he'd have to get the tools. They found some scratches
round the key-hole and knob of the office door that I'd made myself,
scraping old splashes of paint off the brass and hand-plate so as to make
a clean finish. Oh, it taught me the value of circumstantial evidence!
If I was judge I wouldn't give a man till the `risin' av the coort' on it,
any more than I would on the bare word of the noblest woman breathing.
"At the preliminaryexamination Jack Drew said he was guilty.
But it seemed that, according to law, he couldn't be guilty
until after he was committed. So he was committed for trial
at the next Quarter Sessions. The excitement and gabble
were worse than the Dean case, or Federation, and sickened me,
for they were all on the wrong track. You lose a lot of life
through being behind the scenes. But they cooled down presently
to wait for the trial.
"They thought it best to take the girl away from the place
where she'd got the shock; so the Doctor took her to his house,
where he had an old housekeeper who was as deaf as a post --
a first class recommendation for a housekeeper anywhere.
He got a nurse from Sydney to attend on Ruth Wilson, and no one
except he and the nurse were allowed to go near her. She lay like dead,
they said, except when she had to be held down raving; brain fever, they said,
brought on by the shock of the attempted burglary and pistol shot.
Dr. Lebinski had another doctor up from Sydney at his own expense,
but nothing could save her -- and perhaps it was as well.
She might have finished her life in a lunatic asylum.
They were going to send her to Sydney, to a brain hospital;
but she died a week before the Sessions. She was right-headed for an hour,
they said, and asking all the time for Jack. The Doctor told her
he was all right and was coming -- and, waiting and listening for him,
she died.
"The case was black enough against Drew now. I knew he wouldn't have
the pluck to tell the truth now, even if he was that sort of a man.
I didn't know what to do, so I spoke to the Doctor straight. I caught him
coming out of the Royal, and walked along the road with him a bit.
I suppose he thought I was going to show cause why his doors ought to have
another coat of varnish.
"`Hallo, Mitchell!' he said, `how's painting?'
"`Doctor!' I said, `what am I going to do about this business?'
"`What business?'
"`Jack Drew's.'
"He looked at me sideways -- the swift haunted look. Then he walked on
without a word, for half a dozen yards, hands behind, and studying the dust.
Then he asked, quite quietly:
"`Do you know the truth?'
"`Yes!'
"About a dozen yards this time; then he said:
"`I'll see him in the morning, and see you afterwards,'
and he shook hands and went on home.
"Next day he came to me where I was doing a job on a step ladder.
He leaned his elbow against the steps for a moment, and rubbed his hand
over his forehead, as if it ached and he was tired.
"`I've seen him, Mitchell,' he said.
"`Yes.'
"`You were mates with him, once, Out Back?'
"`I was.'
"`You know Drew's hand-writing?'
"`I should think so.'
"He laid a leaf from a pocketbook on top of the steps. I read the message
written in pencil:
"`To Jack Mitchell. -- We were mates on the track. If you know
anything of my affair, don't give it away. -- J. D.'
"I tore the leaf and dropped the bits into the paint-pot.
"`That's all right, Doctor,' I said; `but is there no way?'
"`None.'
"He turned away, wearily. He'd knocked about so much over the world that
he was past bothering about explaining things or being surprised at anything.
But he seemed to get a new idea about me; he came back to the steps again,
and watched my brush for a while, as if he was thinking,
in a broody sort of way, of throwing up his practice and going in
with a great blue-black storm-cloud rushing over, and they hadn't noticed it.
I didn't mind, and the fish bit best in a storm. But just as she said `happy'
came a blinding flash and a crash that shook the ridges,
and the first drops came peltering down. They jumped up and climbed the bank,
while I perched on the she-oak roots over the water to be out of sight
as they passed. Half way to the town I saw them standing
in the shelter of an old stone chimney that stood alone.
He had his overcoat round her and was sheltering her from the wind. . . ."
"Smoke-oh, Joe. The tea's stewing."
Mitchell got up, stretched himself, and brought the billy and pint-pots
to the head of my camp. The moon had grown misty. The plain horizon had
closed in. A couple of boughs, hanging from the gnarled and blasted timber
over the billabong, were the perfect shapes of two men hanging side by side.
Mitchell scratched the back of his neck and looked down at the pup
curled like a glob of mud on the sand in the moonlight,
and an idea struck him. He got a big old felt hat he had,
lifted his pup, nose to tail, fitted it in the hat, shook it down,
holding the hat by the brim, and stood the hat near the head of his doss,
out of the moonlight. "He might get moonstruck," said Mitchell,
"and I don't want that pup to be a genius." The pup seemed
perfectly satisfied with this new arrangement.
"Have a smoke," said Mitchell. "You see," he added, with a sly grin,
"I've got to make up the yarn as I go along, and it's hard work.
It seems to begin to remind me of yarns your grandmother or aunt
tells of things that happened when she was a girl -- but those yarns are true.
You won't have to listen long now; I'm well on into the second volume.
"After the storm I hurried home to the tent -- I was batching
with a carpenter. I changed my clothes, made a fire in the fire-bucket
with shavings and ends of soft wood, boiled the billy,
and had a cup of coffee. It was Saturday night. My mate was at the Royal;
it was cold and dismal in the tent, and there was nothing to read,
so I reckoned I might as well go up to the Royal, too, and put in the time.
"I had to pass the Bank on the way. It was the usual weatherboard box
with a galvanised iron top -- four rooms and a passage,
and a detached kitchen and wash-house at the back; the front room to the right
(behind the office) was the family bedroom, and the one opposite it
was the living room. The `Advertiser' office was next door.
Jack Drew camped in a skillion room behind his printing office,
and had his meals at the Royal. I noticed the storm had taken a sheet of iron
off the skillion, and supposed he'd sleep at the Royal that night.
Next to the `Advertiser' office was the police station (still called
the Police Camp) and the Courthouse. Next was the Imperial Hotel,
where the scrub aristocrats went. There was a vacant allotment
on the other side of the Bank, and I took a short cut across this
to the Royal.
"They'd forgotten to pull down the blind of the dining-room window,
and I happened to glance through and saw she had Jack Drew in there
and was giving him a cup of tea. He had a bad cold, I remember,
and I suppose his health had got precious to her, poor girl.
As I glanced she stepped to the window and pulled down the blind,
which put me out of face a bit -- though, of course, she hadn't seen me.
I was rather surprised at her having Jack in there, till I heard
that the banker, the postmaster, the constable, and some others
were making a night of it at the Imperial, as they'd been doing
pretty often lately -- and went on doing till there was a blow-up about it,
and the constable got transferred Out Back. I used to drink my share then.
We smoked and played cards and yarned and filled 'em up again at the Royal
till after one in the morning. Then I started home.
"I'd finished giving the Bank a couple of coats of stone-colour that week,
and was cutting in in dark colour round the spouting, doors,
and window-frames that Saturday. My head was pretty clear going home,
and as I passed the place it struck me that I'd left out
the only varnish brush I had. I'd been using it to give the sashes
a coat of varnish colour, and remembered that I'd left it
on one of the window-sills -- the sill of her bedroom window, as it happened.
I knew I'd sleep in next day, Sunday, and guessed it would be hot,
and I didn't want the varnish tool to get spoiled; so I reckoned I'd slip in
through the side gate, get it, and take it home to camp and put it in oil.
The window sash was jammed, I remember, and I hadn't been able
to get it up more than a couple of inches to paint the runs of the sash.
The grass grew up close under the window, and I slipped in quietly. I noticed
the sash was still up a couple of inches. Just as I grabbed the brush
I heard low voices inside -- Ruth Wilson's and Jack Drew's -- in her room.
"The surprise sent about a pint of beer up into my throat in a lump.
I tip-toed away out of there. Just as I got clear of the gate
I saw the banker being helped home by a couple of cronies.
"I went home to the camp and turned in, but I couldn't sleep.
I lay think--think--thinking, till I thought all the drink out of my head.
I'd brought a bottle of ale home to last over Sunday, and I drank that.
It only made matters worse. I didn't know how I felt -- I -- well,
I felt as if I was as good a man as Jack Drew -- I --
you see I've -- you might think it soft -- but I loved that girl,
not as I've been gone on other girls, but in the old-fashioned, soft,
honest, hopeless, far-away sort of way; and now, to tell the straight truth,
I thought I might have had her. You lose a thing through being
too straight or sentimental, or not having enough cheek; and another man
comes along with more brass in his blood and less sentimental rot
and takes it up -- and the world respects him; and you feel in your heart
that you're a weaker man than he is. Why, part of the time I must have felt
like a man does when a better man runs away with his wife.
But I'd drunk a lot, and was upset and lonely-feeling that night.
"Oh, but Redclay had a tremendoussensation next day! Jack Drew,
of all the men in the world, had been caught in the act of robbing the bank.
According to Browne's account in court and in the newspapers,
he returned home that night at about twelve o'clock (which I knew was a lie,
for I saw him being helped home nearer two) and immediately retired to rest
(on top of the quilt, boots and all, I suppose). Some time before daybreak
he was roused by a fancied noise (I suppose it was his head swelling);
he rose, turned up a night lamp (he hadn't lit it, I'll swear),
and went through the dining-room passage and office to investigate
(for whisky and water). He saw that the doors and windows were secure,
returned to bed, and fell asleep again.
"There is something in a deaf person's being roused easily.
I know the case of a deaf chap who'd start up at a step or movement
in the house when no one else could hear or feel it; keen sense of vibration,
I reckon. Well, just at daybreak (to shorten the yarn)
the banker woke suddenly, he said, and heard a crack like a shot in the house.
There was a loose flooring-board in the passage that went off
like a pistol-shot sometimes when you trod on it; and I guess Jack Drew
trod on it, sneaking out, and he weighed nearly twelve stone.
If the truth were known, he probably heard Browne poking round,
tried the window, found the sash jammed, and was slipping through the passage
to the back door. Browne got his revolver, opened his door suddenly,
and caught Drew standing between the girl's door (which was shut)
and the office door, with his coat on his arm and his boots in his hands.
Browne covered him with his revolver, swore he'd shoot if he moved,
and yelled for help. Drew stood a moment like a man stunned;
then he rushed Browne, and in the struggle the revolver went off,
and Drew got hit in the arm. Two of the mounted troopers -- who'd been up
looking to the horses for an early start somewhere -- rushed in then,
and took Drew. He had nothing to say. What could he say? He couldn't say
he was a blackguard who'd taken advantage of a poor unprotected girl
because she loved him. They found the back door unlocked, by the way,
which was put down to the burglar; of course Browne couldn't explain
that he came home too muddled to lock doors after him.
"And the girl? She shrieked and fell when the row started,
and they found her like a log on the floor of her room after it was over.
"They found in Jack's overcoat pocket a parcel containing a cold chisel,
small screw-wrench, file, and one or two other things
that he'd bought that evening to tinker up the old printing press.
I knew that, because I'd lent him a hand a few nights before,
and he told me he'd have to get the tools. They found some scratches
round the key-hole and knob of the office door that I'd made myself,
scraping old splashes of paint off the brass and hand-plate so as to make
a clean finish. Oh, it taught me the value of circumstantial evidence!
If I was judge I wouldn't give a man till the `risin' av the coort' on it,
any more than I would on the bare word of the noblest woman breathing.
"At the preliminaryexamination Jack Drew said he was guilty.
But it seemed that, according to law, he couldn't be guilty
until after he was committed. So he was committed for trial
at the next Quarter Sessions. The excitement and gabble
were worse than the Dean case, or Federation, and sickened me,
for they were all on the wrong track. You lose a lot of life
through being behind the scenes. But they cooled down presently
to wait for the trial.
"They thought it best to take the girl away from the place
where she'd got the shock; so the Doctor took her to his house,
where he had an old housekeeper who was as deaf as a post --
a first class recommendation for a housekeeper anywhere.
He got a nurse from Sydney to attend on Ruth Wilson, and no one
except he and the nurse were allowed to go near her. She lay like dead,
they said, except when she had to be held down raving; brain fever, they said,
brought on by the shock of the attempted burglary and pistol shot.
Dr. Lebinski had another doctor up from Sydney at his own expense,
but nothing could save her -- and perhaps it was as well.
She might have finished her life in a lunatic asylum.
They were going to send her to Sydney, to a brain hospital;
but she died a week before the Sessions. She was right-headed for an hour,
they said, and asking all the time for Jack. The Doctor told her
he was all right and was coming -- and, waiting and listening for him,
she died.
"The case was black enough against Drew now. I knew he wouldn't have
the pluck to tell the truth now, even if he was that sort of a man.
I didn't know what to do, so I spoke to the Doctor straight. I caught him
coming out of the Royal, and walked along the road with him a bit.
I suppose he thought I was going to show cause why his doors ought to have
another coat of varnish.
"`Hallo, Mitchell!' he said, `how's painting?'
"`Doctor!' I said, `what am I going to do about this business?'
"`What business?'
"`Jack Drew's.'
"He looked at me sideways -- the swift haunted look. Then he walked on
without a word, for half a dozen yards, hands behind, and studying the dust.
Then he asked, quite quietly:
"`Do you know the truth?'
"`Yes!'
"About a dozen yards this time; then he said:
"`I'll see him in the morning, and see you afterwards,'
and he shook hands and went on home.
"Next day he came to me where I was doing a job on a step ladder.
He leaned his elbow against the steps for a moment, and rubbed his hand
over his forehead, as if it ached and he was tired.
"`I've seen him, Mitchell,' he said.
"`Yes.'
"`You were mates with him, once, Out Back?'
"`I was.'
"`You know Drew's hand-writing?'
"`I should think so.'
"He laid a leaf from a pocketbook on top of the steps. I read the message
written in pencil:
"`To Jack Mitchell. -- We were mates on the track. If you know
anything of my affair, don't give it away. -- J. D.'
"I tore the leaf and dropped the bits into the paint-pot.
"`That's all right, Doctor,' I said; `but is there no way?'
"`None.'
"He turned away, wearily. He'd knocked about so much over the world that
he was past bothering about explaining things or being surprised at anything.
But he seemed to get a new idea about me; he came back to the steps again,
and watched my brush for a while, as if he was thinking,
in a broody sort of way, of throwing up his practice and going in
- horizon [hə´raizən]
n.地平线；范围；视野 (初中英语单词) - moonlight [´mu:nlait] n.&a.月光(的) (初中英语单词)
- remind [ri´maind] vt.提醒；使记(想)起 (初中英语单词)
- grandmother [´græn,mʌðə] n.(外)祖母 (初中英语单词)
- carpenter [´kɑ:pintə] n.木工 vi.做木工活 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- imperial [im´piəriəl] a.帝国的；庄严的 (初中英语单词)
- vacant [´veikənt] a.空虚的，无表情的 (初中英语单词)
- banker [´bæŋkə] n.银行家 (初中英语单词)
- lately [´leitli] ad.近来，不久前 (初中英语单词)
- throat [θrəut] n.咽喉；嗓子；出入口 (初中英语单词)
- old-fashioned [´əuld´feʃənd] a.老式的；过时的 (初中英语单词)
- tremendous [tri´mendəs] a.可怕的；巨大的 (初中英语单词)
- sensation [sen´seiʃən] n.感觉；轰动；轰动一时 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- reckon [´rekən] v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- advantage [əd´vɑ:ntidʒ] n.优势；利益 (初中英语单词)
- parcel [´pɑ:sl] n.包裹；一批 vt.区分 (初中英语单词)
- examination [ig,zæmi´neiʃən] n.检查；考试；检验 (初中英语单词)
- excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- pistol [´pistl] n.手枪 vt.用手枪射击 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- haunted [´hɔ:tid] a.常出现鬼的，闹鬼的 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- overcoat [´əuvəkəut] n.大衣 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- hurried [´hʌrid] a.仓促的，慌忙的 (高中英语单词)
- dismal [´dizməl] a.灰暗的；阴郁的 (高中英语单词)
- constable [´kʌnstəbəl] n.警察；警官 (高中英语单词)
- hopeless [´həupləs] a.无望的，无可救药的 (高中英语单词)
- preliminary [pri´liminəri] a.初步的 n.预赛 (高中英语单词)
- federation [,fedə´reiʃən] n.联邦，联盟，同盟 (高中英语单词)
- housekeeper [´haus,ki:pə] n.主妇，女管家 (高中英语单词)
- recommendation [,rekəmen´deiʃən] n.推荐；劝告 (高中英语单词)
- sentimental [,senti´mentl] a.感伤的；多愁善感的 (英语四级单词)
- daybreak [´deibreik] n.黎明，拂晓 (英语四级单词)
- shorten [´ʃɔ:tn] v.缩短，变短 (英语四级单词)
- revolver [ri´vɔlvə] n.左轮手枪；旋转者 (英语四级单词)
- burglar [´bə:glə] n.(入室行窃的)盗贼 (英语四级单词)
- tinker [´tiŋkə] n.&v.补锅(匠) (英语四级单词)
- wearily [´wiərili] ad.疲倦地；厌烦地 (英语四级单词)
- courthouse [´kɔ:thaus] n.法院大楼 (英语六级单词)
- varnish [´vɑ:niʃ] n.清漆 vt.上清漆；粉饰 (英语六级单词)
- retired [ri´taiəd] a.退休的；通职的 (英语六级单词)
- sydney [´sidni] n.悉尼 (英语六级单词)
- lunatic [´lu:nətik] a.精神错乱的 n.疯子 (英语六级单词)
- pocketbook [´pɔkitbuk] n.袖珍本；皮夹子；财力 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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