章节正文
"Cloete presses him a bit; but the other observes, impudent and
languid like: You see, there's no future in a thing like that - is
there? . . Oh! no, says Cloete. Certainly not. I don't mean this
to have any future - as far as you are concerned. It's a 'once for
all' transaction. Well, what do you estimate your future at? he
asks. . . The fellow more listless than ever - nearly asleep. - I
believe the skunk was really too lazy to care. Small cheating at
cards, wheedling or bullying his living out of some woman or other,
was more his style. Cloete swears at him in whispers something
awful. All this in the saloon bar of the Horse Shoe, Tottenham
Court Road. Finally they agree, over the second sixpennyworth of
Scotch hot, on five hundred pounds as the price of tomahawking the
Sagamore. And Cloete waits to see what George can do.
"A week or two goes by. The other fellow loafs about the house as
if there had been nothing, and Cloete begins to doubt whether he
really means ever to tackle that job. But one day he stops Cloete
at the door, with his downcast eyes: What about that employment
you wished to give me? he asks. . . You see, he had played some
more than usual dirty trick on the woman and expected awful
ructions presently; and to be fired out for sure. Cloete very
pleased. George had been prevaricating to him such a lot that he
really thought the thing was as well as settled. And he says:
Yes. It's time I introduced you to my friend. Just get your hat
and we will go now. . .
"The two come into the office, and George at his desk sits up in a
sudden panic - staring. Sees a tallish fellow, sort of nasty-
handsome face, heavy eyes, half shut; short drab overcoat, shabby
bowler hat, very careful - like in his movements. And he thinks to
himself, Is that how such a man looks! No, the thing's impossible.
. . Cloete does the introduction, and the fellow turns round to
look behind him at the chair before he sits down. . . A thoroughly
competent man, Cloete goes on . . . The man says nothing, sits
perfectly quiet. And George can't speak, throat too dry. Then he
makes an effort: H'm! H'm! Oh yes - unfortunately - sorry to
disappoint - my brother - made other arrangements - going himself.
"The fellow gets up, never raising his eyes off the ground, like a
modest girl, and goes out softly, right out of the office without a
sound. Cloete sticks his chin in his hand and bites all his
fingers at once. George's heart slows down and he speaks to
Cloete. . . This can't be done. How can it be? Directly the ship
is lost Harry would see through it. You know he is a man to go to
the underwriters himself with his suspicions. And he would break
his heart over me. How can I play that on him? There's only two
of us in the world belonging to each other. . .
"Cloete lets out a horrid cuss-word, jumps up, bolts away into his
room, and George hears him there banging things around. After a
while he goes to the door and says in a trembling voice: You ask
me for an impossibility. . . Cloete inside ready to fly out like a
tiger and rend him; but he opens the door a little way and says
softly: Talking of hearts, yours is no bigger than a mouse's, let
me tell you. . . But George doesn't care - load off the heart,
anyhow. And just then Captain Harry comes in. . . Hallo, George
boy. I am little late. What about a chop at the Cheshire, now? .
. . Right you are, old man. . . And off they go to lunch together.
Cloete has nothing to eat that day.
"George feels a new man for a time; but all of a sudden that fellow
Stafford begins to hang about the street, in sight of the house
door. The first time George sees him he thinks he made a mistake.
But no; next time he has to go out, there is the very fellow
skulking on the other side of the road. It makes George nervous;
but he must go out on business, and when the fellow cuts across the
road-way he dodges him. He dodges him once, twice, three times;
but at last he gets nabbed in his very doorway. . . What do you
want? he says, trying to look fierce.
"It seems that ructions had come in the basement of that boarding-
house, and the widow lady had turned on him (being jealous mad), to
the extent of talking of the police. THAT Mr. Stafford couldn't
stand; so he cleared out like a scared stag, and there he was,
chucked into the streets, so to speak. Cloete looked so savage as
he went to and fro that he hadn't the spunk to tackle him; but
George seemed a softer kind to his eye. He would have been glad of
half a quid, anything. . . I've had misfortunes, he says softly, in
his demure way, which frightens George more than a row would have
done. . . Consider the severity of my disappointment, he says. . .
"George, instead of telling him to go to the devil, loses his head.
. . I don't know you. What do you want? he cries, and bolts up-
stairs to Cloete. . . . Look what's come of it, he gasps; now we
are at the mercy of that horrid fellow. . . Cloete tries to show
him that the fellow can do nothing; but George thinks that some
sort of scandal may be forced on, anyhow. Says that he can't live
with that horror haunting him. Cloete would laugh if he weren't
too weary of it all. Then a thought strikes him and he changes his
tune. . . Well, perhaps! I will go down-stairs and send him away
to begin with. . . He comes back. . . He's gone. But perhaps you
are right. The fellow's hard up, and that's what makes people
desperate. The best thing would be to get him out of the country
for a time. Look here, the poor devil is really in want of
employment. I won't ask you much this time: only to hold your
tongue; and I shall try to get your brother to take him as chief
officer. At this George lays his arms and his head on his desk, so
that Cloete feels sorry for him. But altogether Cloete feels more
cheerful because he has shaken the ghost a bit into that Stafford.
That very afternoon he buys him a suit of blue clothes, and tells
him that he will have to turn to and work for his living now. Go
to sea as mate of the Sagamore. The skunk wasn't very willing, but
what with having nothing to eat and no place to sleep in, and the
woman having frightened him with the talk of some prosecution or
other, he had no choice, properlyspeaking. Cloete takes care of
him for a couple of days. . . Our arrangement still stands, says
he. Here's the ship bound for Port Elizabeth; not a safe anchorage
at all. Should she by chance part from her anchors in a north-east
gale and get lost on the beach, as many of them do, why, it's five
hundred in your pocket - and a quick return home. You are up to
the job, ain't you?
"Our Mr. Stafford takes it all in with downcast eyes. . . I am a
competent seaman, he says, with his sly, modest air. A ship's
chief mate has no doubt many opportunities to manipulate the chains
and anchors to some purpose. . . At this Cloete thumps him on the
back: You'll do, my noble sailor. Go in and win. . .
"Next thing George knows, his brother tells him that he had
occasion to oblige his partner. And glad of it, too. Likes the
partner no end. Took a friend of his as mate. Man had his
troubles, been ashore a year nursing a dying wife, it seems. Down
on his luck. . . George protests earnestly that he knows nothing of
the person. Saw him once. Not very attractive to look at. . . And
Captain Harry says in his hearty way, That's so, but must give the
poor devil a chance. . .
"So Mr. Stafford joins in dock. And it seems that he did manage to
monkey with one of the cables - keeping his mind on Port Elizabeth.
The riggers had all the cable ranged on deck to clean lockers. The
new mate watches them go ashore - dinner hour - and sends the ship-
keeper out of the ship to fetch him a bottle of beer. Then he goes
to work whittling away the forelock of the forty-five-fathom
shackle-pin, gives it a tap or two with a hammer just to make it
loose, and of course that cable wasn't safe any more. Riggers come
back - you know what riggers are: come day, go day, and God send
Sunday. Down goes the chain into the locker without their foreman
looking at the shackles at all. What does he care? He ain't going
in the ship. And two days later the ship goes to sea. . . "
At this point I was incautious enough to breathe out another "I
see," which gave offence again, and brought on me a rude "No, you
don't" - as before. But in the pause he remembered the glass of
beer at his elbow. He drank half of it, wiped his mustaches, and
remarked grimly -
"Don't you think that there will be any sea life in this, because
there ain't. If you're going to put in any out of your own head,
now's your chance. I suppose you know what ten days of bad weather
in the Channel are like? I don't. Anyway, ten whole days go by.
One Monday Cloete comes to the office a little late - hears a
woman's voice in George's room and looks in. Newspapers on the
desk, on the floor; Captain Harry's wife sitting with red eyes and
a bag on the chair near her. . . Look at this, says George, in
great excitement, showing him a paper. Cloete's heart gives a
jump. Ha! Wreck in Westport Bay. The Sagamore gone ashore early
hours of Sunday, and so the newspaper men had time to put in some
of their work. Columns of it. Lifeboat out twice. Captain and
crew remain by the ship. Tugs summoned to assist. If the weather
improves, this well-known fine ship may yet be saved. . . You know
the way these chaps put it. . . Mrs. Harry there on her way to
catch a train from Cannon Street. Got an hour to wait.
"Cloete takes George aside and whispers: Ship saved yet! Oh,
damn! That must never be; you hear? But George looks at him
dazed, and Mrs. Harry keeps on sobbing quietly: . . . I ought to
have been with him. But I am going to him. . . We are all going
together, cries Cloete, all of a sudden. He rushes out, sends the
woman a cup of hot bovril from the shop across the road, buys a rug
for her, thinks of everything; and in the train tucks her in and
keeps on talking, thirteen to the dozen, all the way, to keep her
spirits up, as it were; but really because he can't hold his peace
for very joy. Here's the thing done all at once, and nothing to
pay. Done. Actually done. His head swims now and again when he
thinks of it. What enormous luck! It almost frightens him. He
would like to yell and sing. Meantime George Dunbar sits in his
corner, looking so deadlymiserable that at last poor Mrs. Harry
tries to comfort him, and so cheers herself up at the same time by
talking about how her Harry is a prudent man; not likely to risk
his crew's life or his own unnecessarily - and so on.
"First thing they hear at Westport station is that the life-boat
has been out to the ship again, and has brought off the second
officer, who had hurt himself, and a few sailors. Captain and the
rest of the crew, about fifteen in all, are still on board. Tugs
expected to arrive every moment.
"They take Mrs. Harry to the inn, nearly opposite the rocks; she
bolts straight up-stairs to look out of the window, and she lets
out a great cry when she sees the wreck. She won't rest till she
gets on board to her Harry. Cloete soothes her all he can. . . All
right; you try to eat a mouthful, and we will go to make inquiries.
"He draws George out of the room: Look here, she can't go on
board, but I shall. I'll see to it that he doesn't stop in the
ship too long. Let's go and find the coxswain of the life-boat. .
. George follows him, shivering from time to time. The waves are
washing over the old pier; not much wind, a wild, gloomy sky over
the bay. In the whole world only one tug away off, heading to the
seas, tossed in and out of sight every minute as regular as
clockwork.
"They meet the coxswain and he tells them: Yes! He's going out
again. No, they ain't in danger on board - not yet. But the
ship's chance is very poor. Still, if the wind doesn't pipe up
again and the sea goes down something might be tried. After some
talk he agrees to take Cloete on board; supposed to be with an
urgent message from the owners to the captain.
"Whenever Cloete looks at the sky he feels comforted; it looks so
threatening. George Dunbar follows him about with a white face and
saying nothing. Cloete takes him to have a drink or two, and by
and by he begins to pick up. . . That's better, says Cloete; dash
me if it wasn't like walking about with a dead man before. You
ought to be throwing up your cap, man. I feel as if I wanted to
stand in the street and cheer. Your brother is safe, the ship is
lost, and we are made men.
"Are you certain she's lost? asks George. It would be an awful
blow after all the agonies I have gone through in my mind, since
languid like: You see, there's no future in a thing like that - is
there? . . Oh! no, says Cloete. Certainly not. I don't mean this
to have any future - as far as you are concerned. It's a 'once for
all' transaction. Well, what do you estimate your future at? he
asks. . . The fellow more listless than ever - nearly asleep. - I
believe the skunk was really too lazy to care. Small cheating at
cards, wheedling or bullying his living out of some woman or other,
was more his style. Cloete swears at him in whispers something
awful. All this in the saloon bar of the Horse Shoe, Tottenham
Court Road. Finally they agree, over the second sixpennyworth of
Scotch hot, on five hundred pounds as the price of tomahawking the
Sagamore. And Cloete waits to see what George can do.
"A week or two goes by. The other fellow loafs about the house as
if there had been nothing, and Cloete begins to doubt whether he
really means ever to tackle that job. But one day he stops Cloete
at the door, with his downcast eyes: What about that employment
you wished to give me? he asks. . . You see, he had played some
more than usual dirty trick on the woman and expected awful
ructions presently; and to be fired out for sure. Cloete very
pleased. George had been prevaricating to him such a lot that he
really thought the thing was as well as settled. And he says:
Yes. It's time I introduced you to my friend. Just get your hat
and we will go now. . .
"The two come into the office, and George at his desk sits up in a
sudden panic - staring. Sees a tallish fellow, sort of nasty-
handsome face, heavy eyes, half shut; short drab overcoat, shabby
bowler hat, very careful - like in his movements. And he thinks to
himself, Is that how such a man looks! No, the thing's impossible.
. . Cloete does the introduction, and the fellow turns round to
look behind him at the chair before he sits down. . . A thoroughly
competent man, Cloete goes on . . . The man says nothing, sits
perfectly quiet. And George can't speak, throat too dry. Then he
makes an effort: H'm! H'm! Oh yes - unfortunately - sorry to
disappoint - my brother - made other arrangements - going himself.
"The fellow gets up, never raising his eyes off the ground, like a
modest girl, and goes out softly, right out of the office without a
sound. Cloete sticks his chin in his hand and bites all his
fingers at once. George's heart slows down and he speaks to
Cloete. . . This can't be done. How can it be? Directly the ship
is lost Harry would see through it. You know he is a man to go to
the underwriters himself with his suspicions. And he would break
his heart over me. How can I play that on him? There's only two
of us in the world belonging to each other. . .
"Cloete lets out a horrid cuss-word, jumps up, bolts away into his
room, and George hears him there banging things around. After a
while he goes to the door and says in a trembling voice: You ask
me for an impossibility. . . Cloete inside ready to fly out like a
tiger and rend him; but he opens the door a little way and says
softly: Talking of hearts, yours is no bigger than a mouse's, let
me tell you. . . But George doesn't care - load off the heart,
anyhow. And just then Captain Harry comes in. . . Hallo, George
boy. I am little late. What about a chop at the Cheshire, now? .
. . Right you are, old man. . . And off they go to lunch together.
Cloete has nothing to eat that day.
"George feels a new man for a time; but all of a sudden that fellow
Stafford begins to hang about the street, in sight of the house
door. The first time George sees him he thinks he made a mistake.
But no; next time he has to go out, there is the very fellow
skulking on the other side of the road. It makes George nervous;
but he must go out on business, and when the fellow cuts across the
road-way he dodges him. He dodges him once, twice, three times;
but at last he gets nabbed in his very doorway. . . What do you
want? he says, trying to look fierce.
"It seems that ructions had come in the basement of that boarding-
house, and the widow lady had turned on him (being jealous mad), to
the extent of talking of the police. THAT Mr. Stafford couldn't
stand; so he cleared out like a scared stag, and there he was,
chucked into the streets, so to speak. Cloete looked so savage as
he went to and fro that he hadn't the spunk to tackle him; but
George seemed a softer kind to his eye. He would have been glad of
half a quid, anything. . . I've had misfortunes, he says softly, in
his demure way, which frightens George more than a row would have
done. . . Consider the severity of my disappointment, he says. . .
"George, instead of telling him to go to the devil, loses his head.
. . I don't know you. What do you want? he cries, and bolts up-
stairs to Cloete. . . . Look what's come of it, he gasps; now we
are at the mercy of that horrid fellow. . . Cloete tries to show
him that the fellow can do nothing; but George thinks that some
sort of scandal may be forced on, anyhow. Says that he can't live
with that horror haunting him. Cloete would laugh if he weren't
too weary of it all. Then a thought strikes him and he changes his
tune. . . Well, perhaps! I will go down-stairs and send him away
to begin with. . . He comes back. . . He's gone. But perhaps you
are right. The fellow's hard up, and that's what makes people
desperate. The best thing would be to get him out of the country
for a time. Look here, the poor devil is really in want of
employment. I won't ask you much this time: only to hold your
tongue; and I shall try to get your brother to take him as chief
officer. At this George lays his arms and his head on his desk, so
that Cloete feels sorry for him. But altogether Cloete feels more
cheerful because he has shaken the ghost a bit into that Stafford.
That very afternoon he buys him a suit of blue clothes, and tells
him that he will have to turn to and work for his living now. Go
to sea as mate of the Sagamore. The skunk wasn't very willing, but
what with having nothing to eat and no place to sleep in, and the
woman having frightened him with the talk of some prosecution or
other, he had no choice, properlyspeaking. Cloete takes care of
him for a couple of days. . . Our arrangement still stands, says
he. Here's the ship bound for Port Elizabeth; not a safe anchorage
at all. Should she by chance part from her anchors in a north-east
gale and get lost on the beach, as many of them do, why, it's five
hundred in your pocket - and a quick return home. You are up to
the job, ain't you?
"Our Mr. Stafford takes it all in with downcast eyes. . . I am a
competent seaman, he says, with his sly, modest air. A ship's
chief mate has no doubt many opportunities to manipulate the chains
and anchors to some purpose. . . At this Cloete thumps him on the
back: You'll do, my noble sailor. Go in and win. . .
"Next thing George knows, his brother tells him that he had
occasion to oblige his partner. And glad of it, too. Likes the
partner no end. Took a friend of his as mate. Man had his
troubles, been ashore a year nursing a dying wife, it seems. Down
on his luck. . . George protests earnestly that he knows nothing of
the person. Saw him once. Not very attractive to look at. . . And
Captain Harry says in his hearty way, That's so, but must give the
poor devil a chance. . .
"So Mr. Stafford joins in dock. And it seems that he did manage to
monkey with one of the cables - keeping his mind on Port Elizabeth.
The riggers had all the cable ranged on deck to clean lockers. The
new mate watches them go ashore - dinner hour - and sends the ship-
keeper out of the ship to fetch him a bottle of beer. Then he goes
to work whittling away the forelock of the forty-five-fathom
shackle-pin, gives it a tap or two with a hammer just to make it
loose, and of course that cable wasn't safe any more. Riggers come
back - you know what riggers are: come day, go day, and God send
Sunday. Down goes the chain into the locker without their foreman
looking at the shackles at all. What does he care? He ain't going
in the ship. And two days later the ship goes to sea. . . "
At this point I was incautious enough to breathe out another "I
see," which gave offence again, and brought on me a rude "No, you
don't" - as before. But in the pause he remembered the glass of
beer at his elbow. He drank half of it, wiped his mustaches, and
remarked grimly -
"Don't you think that there will be any sea life in this, because
there ain't. If you're going to put in any out of your own head,
now's your chance. I suppose you know what ten days of bad weather
in the Channel are like? I don't. Anyway, ten whole days go by.
One Monday Cloete comes to the office a little late - hears a
woman's voice in George's room and looks in. Newspapers on the
desk, on the floor; Captain Harry's wife sitting with red eyes and
a bag on the chair near her. . . Look at this, says George, in
great excitement, showing him a paper. Cloete's heart gives a
jump. Ha! Wreck in Westport Bay. The Sagamore gone ashore early
hours of Sunday, and so the newspaper men had time to put in some
of their work. Columns of it. Lifeboat out twice. Captain and
crew remain by the ship. Tugs summoned to assist. If the weather
improves, this well-known fine ship may yet be saved. . . You know
the way these chaps put it. . . Mrs. Harry there on her way to
catch a train from Cannon Street. Got an hour to wait.
"Cloete takes George aside and whispers: Ship saved yet! Oh,
damn! That must never be; you hear? But George looks at him
dazed, and Mrs. Harry keeps on sobbing quietly: . . . I ought to
have been with him. But I am going to him. . . We are all going
together, cries Cloete, all of a sudden. He rushes out, sends the
woman a cup of hot bovril from the shop across the road, buys a rug
for her, thinks of everything; and in the train tucks her in and
keeps on talking, thirteen to the dozen, all the way, to keep her
spirits up, as it were; but really because he can't hold his peace
for very joy. Here's the thing done all at once, and nothing to
pay. Done. Actually done. His head swims now and again when he
thinks of it. What enormous luck! It almost frightens him. He
would like to yell and sing. Meantime George Dunbar sits in his
corner, looking so deadlymiserable that at last poor Mrs. Harry
tries to comfort him, and so cheers herself up at the same time by
talking about how her Harry is a prudent man; not likely to risk
his crew's life or his own unnecessarily - and so on.
"First thing they hear at Westport station is that the life-boat
has been out to the ship again, and has brought off the second
officer, who had hurt himself, and a few sailors. Captain and the
rest of the crew, about fifteen in all, are still on board. Tugs
expected to arrive every moment.
"They take Mrs. Harry to the inn, nearly opposite the rocks; she
bolts straight up-stairs to look out of the window, and she lets
out a great cry when she sees the wreck. She won't rest till she
gets on board to her Harry. Cloete soothes her all he can. . . All
right; you try to eat a mouthful, and we will go to make inquiries.
"He draws George out of the room: Look here, she can't go on
board, but I shall. I'll see to it that he doesn't stop in the
ship too long. Let's go and find the coxswain of the life-boat. .
. George follows him, shivering from time to time. The waves are
washing over the old pier; not much wind, a wild, gloomy sky over
the bay. In the whole world only one tug away off, heading to the
seas, tossed in and out of sight every minute as regular as
clockwork.
"They meet the coxswain and he tells them: Yes! He's going out
again. No, they ain't in danger on board - not yet. But the
ship's chance is very poor. Still, if the wind doesn't pipe up
again and the sea goes down something might be tried. After some
talk he agrees to take Cloete on board; supposed to be with an
urgent message from the owners to the captain.
"Whenever Cloete looks at the sky he feels comforted; it looks so
threatening. George Dunbar follows him about with a white face and
saying nothing. Cloete takes him to have a drink or two, and by
and by he begins to pick up. . . That's better, says Cloete; dash
me if it wasn't like walking about with a dead man before. You
ought to be throwing up your cap, man. I feel as if I wanted to
stand in the street and cheer. Your brother is safe, the ship is
lost, and we are made men.
"Are you certain she's lost? asks George. It would be an awful
blow after all the agonies I have gone through in my mind, since
- estimate [´estimət, ´estimeit]
n.估计；评价 vt.估价 (初中英语单词) - presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- introduction [,intrə´dʌkʃən] n.介绍；引言；引导 (初中英语单词)
- throat [θrəut] n.咽喉；嗓子；出入口 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- doorway [´dɔ:wei] n.门口 (初中英语单词)
- jealous [´dʒeləs] a.妒忌的 (初中英语单词)
- extent [ik´stent] n.长度；程度；范围 (初中英语单词)
- savage [´sævidʒ] a.野蛮的 n.蛮人 (初中英语单词)
- disappointment [,disə´pɔintmənt] n.失望；挫折 (初中英语单词)
- horror [´hɔrə] n.恐怖；战栗 (初中英语单词)
- altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
- shaken [´ʃeikən] shake的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- willing [´wiliŋ] a.情愿的，乐意的 (初中英语单词)
- properly [´prɔpəli] ad.适当地；严格地 (初中英语单词)
- arrangement [ə´reindʒmənt] n.整理；排列；筹备 (初中英语单词)
- modest [´mɔdist] a.谦虚的；朴素的 (初中英语单词)
- oblige [ə´blaidʒ] vt.责成；迫使；使感激 (初中英语单词)
- partner [´pɑ:tnə] n.伙伴 v.同....合作 (初中英语单词)
- ashore [ə´ʃɔ:] ad.向岸上 (初中英语单词)
- attractive [ə´træktiv] a.有吸引力；诱人的 (初中英语单词)
- hammer [´hæmə] n.锤子 v.重击 (初中英语单词)
- channel [´tʃænəl] n.海峡；航道；途径 (初中英语单词)
- excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- assist [ə´sist] v.协助；援助；搀扶 (初中英语单词)
- well-known [,wel´nəun] a.著名的，众所周知的 (初中英语单词)
- cannon [´kænən] n.大炮 (初中英语单词)
- actually [´æktʃuəli] ad.事实上；实际上 (初中英语单词)
- enormous [i´nɔ:məs] a.巨大地，很，极 (初中英语单词)
- meantime [´mi:ntaim] n.&ad.其间；同时 (初中英语单词)
- deadly [´dedli] a.致命的 ad.死一般地 (初中英语单词)
- miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- concerned [kən´sə:nd] a.有关的；担心的 (高中英语单词)
- saloon [sə´lu:n] n.大厅；餐车 (高中英语单词)
- tackle [´tækəl] n.用具；装置 vt.处理 (高中英语单词)
- overcoat [´əuvəkəut] n.大衣 (高中英语单词)
- unfortunately [ʌn´fɔ:tʃunitli] ad.不幸；不朽；可惜 (高中英语单词)
- horrid [´hɔrid] a.令人讨厌的；极糟的 (高中英语单词)
- scandal [´skændl] n.丑闻；耻辱；流言蜚语 (高中英语单词)
- earnestly [´ə:nistli] ad.认真地；急切地 (高中英语单词)
- hearty [´hɑ:ti] a.热忱的；强健的 (高中英语单词)
- grimly [´grimli] ad.严厉地；坚强地 (高中英语单词)
- prudent [´pru:dənt] a.谨慎的；精明的 (高中英语单词)
- gloomy [´glu:mi] a.昏暗的；忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- basement [´beismənt] n.地下室 (英语四级单词)
- severity [si´veriti] n.严厉；严重；苛刻 (英语四级单词)
- mouthful [´mauθful] n.一口；少量 (英语四级单词)
- downcast [´daunkɑ:st] a.沮丧的；向下看的 (英语六级单词)
- impossibility [impɔsi´biliti] n.不可能办到的事 (英语六级单词)
- prosecution [,prɔsi´kju:ʃən] n.彻底实行；检举 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
- seaman [´si:mən] n.海员，水手 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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