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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
I
As long ago as 1860 it was the proper thing to be born at home. At
present, so I am told, the high gods of medicine have decreed that the
first cries of the young shall be uttered upon the anaesthetic air of
a hospital, preferably a fashionable one. So young Mr. and Mrs. Roger
the summer of 1860, that their first baby should be born in a
hospital. Whether this anachronism had any bearing upon the
astonishing history I am about to set down will never be known.
I shall tell you what occurred, and let you judge for yourself.
The Roger Buttons held an enviable position, both social and
financial, in ante-bellum Baltimore. They were related to the This
Family and the That Family, which, as every Southerner knew, entitled
them to membership in that enormous peerage which largely populated
the Confederacy. This was their first experience with the charming old
custom of having babies--Mr. Button was naturally nervous. He hoped it
would be a boy so that he could be sent to Yale College in
Connecticut, at which institution Mr. Button himself had been known
On the September morning consecrated4 to the enormous event he arose
hospital, to determine whether the darkness of the night had borne in
When he was approximately a hundred yards from the Maryland Private
Hospital for Ladies and Gentlemen he saw Doctor Keene, the family
physician, descending8 the front steps, rubbing his hands together with
a washing movement--as all doctors are required to do by the unwritten
Hardware, began to run toward Doctor Keene with much less dignity than
was expected from a Southern gentleman of that picturesque11 period.
"Doctor Keene!" he called. "Oh, Doctor Keene!"
The doctor heard him, faced around, and stood waiting, a curious
expression settling on his harsh, medicinal face as Mr. Button drew
near.
"What was it? How is she? A boy? Who is it? What--"
"Talk sense!" said Doctor Keene sharply, He appeared somewhat
irritated.
"Is the child born?" begged Mr. Button.
Doctor Keene frowned. "Why, yes, I suppose so--after a fashion." Again
he threw a curious glance at Mr. Button.
"Is my wife all right?"
"Yes."
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Here now!" cried Doctor Keene in a perfect passion of irritation13,
"I'll ask you to go and see for yourself. Outrageous14!" He snapped the
"Do you imagine a case like this will help my professional reputation?
One more would ruin me--ruin anybody."
"No, not triplets!" answered the doctor cuttingly. "What's more, you
can go and see for yourself. And get another doctor. I brought you
into the world, young man, and I've been physician to your family for
forty years, but I'm through with you! I don't want to see you or any
of your relatives ever again! Good-bye!"
Then he turned sharply, and without another word climbed into his
Mr. Button stood there upon the sidewalk, stupefied and trembling from
all desire to go into the Maryland Private Hospital for Ladies and
Gentlemen--it was with the greatest difficulty that, a moment later,
he forced himself to mount the steps and enter the front door.
Swallowing his shame, Mr. Button approached her.
"Good-morning," she remarked, looking up at him pleasantly.
"Good-morning. I--I am Mr. Button."
At this a look of utter terror spread itself over girl's face. She
rose to her feet and seemed about to fly from the hall, restraining
herself only with the most apparent difficulty.
"I want to see my child," said Mr. Button.
The nurse gave a little scream. "Oh--of course!" she cried
hysterically20. "Upstairs. Right upstairs. Go--_up!_"
floor. In the upper hall he addressed another nurse who approached
him, basin in hand. "I'm Mr. Button," he managed to articulate. "I
want to see my----"
the stairs. Clank! Clank! It began a methodical descent as if sharing
in the general terror which this gentleman provoked.
"All _right_, Mr. Button," she agreed in a hushed voice. "Very
_well!_ But if you _knew_ what a state it's put us all in this
a ghost of a reputation after----"
"Come this way, then, Mr. Button."
He dragged himself after her. At the end of a long hall they reached a
room from which proceeded a variety of howls--indeed, a room which, in
entered.
"There!" said the nurse.
Mr. Button's eyes followed her pointing finger, and this is what he
one of the cribs, there sat an old man apparently37 about seventy years
long smoke-coloured beard, which waved absurdly back and forth, fanned
by the breeze coming in at the window. He looked up at Mr. Button with
"Am I mad?" thundered Mr. Button, his terror resolving into rage. "Is
this some ghastly hospital joke?
"It doesn't seem like a joke to us," replied the nurse severely. "And
I don't know whether you're mad or not--but that is most certainly
your child."
The cool perspiration redoubled on Mr. Button's forehead. He closed
his eyes, and then, opening them, looked again. There was no
mistake--he was gazing at a man of threescore and ten--a _baby_
of threescore and ten, a baby whose feet hung over the sides of the
father?" he demanded.
Mr. Button and the nurse started violently.
"Because if you are," went on the old man querulously, "I wish you'd
get me out of this place--or, at least, get them to put a comfortable
rocker in here."
"Where in God's name did you come from? Who are you?" burst out Mr.
Button frantically44.
"I can't tell you _exactly_ who I am," replied the querulous
certainly Button."
"You lie! You're an impostor!"
The old man turned wearily to the nurse. "Nice way to welcome a
new-born child," he complained in a weak voice. "Tell him he's wrong,
why don't you?"
"You're wrong. Mr. Button," said the nurse severely. "This is your
child, and you'll have to make the best of it. We're going to ask you
to take him home with you as soon as possible-some time to-day."
"Home?" repeated Mr. Button incredulously.
"Yes, we can't have him here. We really can't, you know?"
keep a youngster of quiet tastes. With all this yelling and howling, I
brought me a bottle of milk!"
"What will people say? What must I do?"
"You'll have to take him home," insisted the nurse--"immediately!"
eyes of the tortured man--a picture of himself walking through the
his side.
"I can't. I can't," he moaned.
People would stop to speak to him, and what was he going to say? He
would have to introduce this--this septuagenarian: "This is my son,
born early this morning." And then the old man would gather his
the slave market--for a dark instant Mr. Button wished passionately57
"Come! Pull yourself together," commanded the nurse.
"See here," the old man announced suddenly, "if you think I'm going to
"Babies always have blankets."
garment. "Look!" he quavered. "_This_ is what they had ready for
me."
"Well," said the old man, "this baby's not going to wear anything in
me a sheet."
"Keep it on! Keep it on!" said Mr. Button hurriedly. He turned to the
nurse. "What'll I do?"
"Go down town and buy your son some clothes."
Mr. Button's son's voice followed him down into the hall: "And a
2
"Good-morning," Mr. Button said nervously, to the clerk in the
Chesapeake Dry Goods Company. "I want to buy some clothes for my
child."
"How old is your child, sir?"
"About six hours," answered Mr. Button, without due consideration.
"Babies' supply department in the rear."
"Why, I don't think--I'm not sure that's what I want. It's--he's an
unusually large-size child. Exceptionally--ah large."
"They have the largest child's sizes."
"Where is the boys' department?" inquired Mr. Button, shifting his
"Right here."
clothes was repugnant to him. If, say, he could only find a very large
boy's suit, he might cut off that long and awful beard, dye the white
something of his own self-respect--not to mention his position in
Baltimore society.
fit the new-born Button. He blamed the store, of course--in such
cases it is the thing to blame the store.
"How old did you say that boy of yours was?" demanded the clerk
"He's--sixteen."
"Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you said six _hours_. You'll
"There!" he exclaimed. "I'll take that suit, out there on the dummy."
The clerk stared. "Why," he protested, "that's not a child's suit. At
least it _is_, but it's for fancy dress. You could wear it
yourself!"
"Wrap it up," insisted his customer nervously. "That's what I want."
The astonished clerk obeyed.
Back at the hospital Mr. Button entered the nursery and almost threw
the package at his son. "Here's your clothes," he snapped out.
quizzical eye.
"They look sort of funny to me," he complained, "I don't want to be
made a monkey of--"
"You've made a monkey of me!" retorted Mr. Button fiercely. "Never you
mind how funny you look. Put them on--or I'll--or I'll _spank_
you." He swallowed uneasily at the penultimate word, feeling
nevertheless that it was the proper thing to say.
"All right, father"--this with a grotesque simulation of filial
respect--"you've lived longer; you know best. Just as you say."
As before, the sound of the word "father" caused Mr. Button to start
violently.
"And hurry."
"I'm hurrying, father."
When his son was dressed Mr. Button regarded him with depression. The
costume consisted of dotted socks, pink pants, and a belted blouse
with a wide white collar. Over the latter waved the long whitish
"Wait!"
amputated a large section of the beard. But even with this improvement
tone with the gaiety of the costume. Mr. Button, however, was
obdurate--he held out his hand. "Come along!" he said sternly.
His son took the hand trustingly. "What are you going to call me,
dad?" he quavered as they walked from the nursery--"just 'baby' for a
while? till you think of a better name?"
we'll call you Methuselah."
3
Even after the new addition to the Button family had had his hair cut
clothes made to order by a flabbergasted tailor, it was impossible for
Button to ignore the fact that his son was a poor excuse for a first
family baby. Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button--for it was by
this name they called him instead of by the appropriate but invidious
Methuselah--was five feet eight inches tall. His clothes did not
the fact that the eyes under--were faded and watery and tired. In
fact, the baby-nurse who had been engaged in advance left the house
after one look, in a state of considerable indignation.
But Mr. Button persisted in his unwavering purpose. Benjamin was a
baby, and a baby he should remain. At first he declared that if
Benjamin didn't like warm milk he could go without food altogether,
but he was finally prevailed upon to allow his son bread and butter,
and even oatmeal by way of a compromise. One day he brought home a
he should "play with it," whereupon the old man took it with--a weary
throughout the day.
There can be no doubt, though, that the rattle bored him, and that he
instance, Mr. Button discovered one day that during the preceding week
he had smoked more cigars than ever before--a phenomenon, which was
explained a few days later when, entering the nursery unexpectedly, he
that he could not bring himself to administer it. He merely warned his
Nevertheless he persisted in his attitude. He brought home lead
soldiers, he brought toy trains, he brought large pleasant animals
made of cotton, and, to perfect the illusion which he was
creating--for himself at least--he passionately demanded of the clerk
in the toy-store whether "the paint would come oft the pink duck if
the baby put it in his mouth." But, despite all his father's efforts,
Benjamin refused to be interested. He would steal down the back stairs
and return to the nursery with a volume of the Encyclopedia91
Britannica, over which he would pore through an afternoon, while his
cotton cows and his Noah's ark were left neglected on the floor.
Against such a stubbornness Mr. Button's efforts were of little avail.
The sensation created in Baltimore was, at first, prodigious92. What the
mishap would have cost the Buttons and their kinsfolk socially cannot
be determined93, for the outbreak of the Civil War drew the city's
attention to other things. A few people who were unfailingly polite
racked their brains for compliments to give to the parents--and
finally hit upon the ingenious device of declaring that the baby
resembled his grandfather, a fact which, due to the standard state of
decay common to all men of seventy, could not be denied. Mr. and Mrs.
Roger Button were not pleased, and Benjamin's grandfather was
furiously insulted.
Benjamin, once he left the hospital, took life as he found it. Several
small boys were brought to see him, and he spent a stiff-jointed
afternoon trying to work up an interest in tops and marbles--he even
managed, quite accidentally, to break a kitchen window with a stone
these things only because they were expected of him, and because he
was by nature obliging.
When his grandfather's initial antagonism97 wore off, Benjamin and that
gentleman took enormous pleasure in one another's company. They would
sit for hours, these two, so far apart in age and experience, and,
like old cronies, discuss with tireless monotony the slow events of
the day. Benjamin felt more at ease in his grandfather's presence than
despite the dictatorial99 authority they exercised over him, frequently
addressed him as "Mr."
He was as puzzled as any one else at the apparently advanced age of
his mind and body at birth. He read up on it in the medical journal,
but found that no such case had been previously100 recorded. At his
father's urging he made an honest attempt to play with other boys, and
frequently he joined in the milder games--football shook him up too
much, and he feared that in case of a fracture his ancient bones would
refuse to knit.
the art of pasting green paper on orange paper, of weaving coloured
maps and manufacturing eternal cardboard necklaces. He was inclined to
drowse off to sleep in the middle of these tasks, a habit which both
irritated and frightened his young teacher. To his relief she
complained to his parents, and he was removed from the school. The
Roger Buttons told their friends that they felt he was too young.
By the time he was twelve years old his parents had grown used to him.
Indeed, so strong is the force of custom that they no longer felt that
he was different from any other child--except when some curious
anomaly reminded them of the fact. But one day a few weeks after his
twelfth birthday, while looking in the mirror, Benjamin made, or
thought he made, an astonishing discovery. Did his eyes deceive him,
or had his hair turned in the dozen years of his life from white to
iron-gray under its concealing102 dye? Was the network of wrinkles on his
face becoming less pronounced? Was his skin healthier and firmer, with
even a touch of ruddy winter colour? He could not tell. He knew that
he no longer stooped, and that his physical condition had improved
since the early days of his life.
"Can it be----?" he thought to himself, or, rather, scarcely dared to
think.
He went to his father. "I am grown," he announced determinedly103. "I
want to put on long trousers."
His father hesitated. "Well," he said finally, "I don't know. Fourteen
is the age for putting on long trousers--and you are only twelve."
"But you'll have to admit," protested Benjamin, "that I'm big for my
age."
His father looked at him with illusory speculation104. "Oh, I'm not so
sure of that," he said. "I was as big as you when I was twelve."
This was not true-it was all part of Roger Button's silent agreement
with himself to believe in his son's normality.
Finally a compromise was reached. Benjamin was to continue to dye his
hair. He was to make a better attempt to play with boys of his own
age. He was not to wear his spectacles or carry a cane in the street.
In return for these concessions105 he was allowed his first suit of long
trousers....
4
Of the life of Benjamin Button between his twelfth and twenty-first
year I intend to say little. Suffice to record that they were years of
fifty; he had more hair and it was of a dark gray; his step was firm,
baritone. So his father sent him up to Connecticut to take
examinations for entrance to Yale College. Benjamin passed his
On the third day following his matriculation he received a
office and arrange his schedule. Benjamin, glancing in the mirror,
decided that his hair needed a new application of its brown dye, but
an anxious inspection of his bureau drawer disclosed that the dye
bottle was not there. Then he remembered--he had emptied it the day
before and thrown it away.
There seemed to be no help for it--he must go as he was. He did.
"Good-morning," said the registrar politely. "You've come to inquire
about your son."
"Why, as a matter of fact, my name's Button----" began Benjamin, but
Mr. Hart cut him off.
"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Button. I'm expecting your son here
any minute."
"That's me!" burst out Benjamin. "I'm a freshman."
"What!"
"I'm a freshman."
"Surely you're joking."
"Not at all."
The registrar frowned and glanced at a card before him. "Why, I have
Mr. Benjamin Button's age down here as eighteen."
"That's my age," asserted Benjamin, flushing slightly.
The registrar eyed him wearily. "Now surely, Mr. Button, you don't
expect me to believe that."
Benjamin smiled wearily. "I am eighteen," he repeated.
The registrar pointed sternly to the door. "Get out," he said. "Get
out of college and get out of town. You are a dangerous lunatic."
"I am eighteen."
Mr. Hart opened the door. "The idea!" he shouted. "A man of your age
trying to enter here as a freshman. Eighteen years old, are you? Well,
I'll give you eighteen minutes to get out of town."
Benjamin Button walked with dignity from the room, and half a dozen
undergraduates, who were waiting in the hall, followed him curiously
with their eyes. When he had gone a little way he turned around, faced
repeated in a firm voice: "I am eighteen years old."
To a chorus of titters which went up from the group of undergraduates,
Benjamin walked away.
But he was not fated to escape so easily. On his melancholy112 walk to
the railroad station he found that he was being followed by a group,
word had gone around that a lunatic had passed the entrance
examinations for Yale and attempted to palm himself off as a youth of
out of classes, the football team abandoned its practice and joined
position, ran shouting after the procession, from which proceeded a
continual succession of remarks aimed at the tender sensibilities of
Benjamin Button.
"He must be the wandering Jew!"
"He ought to go to prep school at his age!"
"He thought this was the old men's home."
"Go up to Harvard!"
Benjamin increased his gait, and soon he was running. He would show
them! He _would_ go to Harvard, and then they would regret these
Safely on board the train for Baltimore, he put his head from the
window. "You'll regret this!" he shouted.
"Ha-ha!" the undergraduates laughed. "Ha-ha-ha!" It was the biggest
mistake that Yale College had ever made....
5
In 1880 Benjamin Button was twenty years old, and he signalised his
birthday by going to work for his father in Roger Button & Co.,
Wholesale Hardware. It was in that same year that he began "going out
socially"--that is, his father insisted on taking him to several
fashionable dances. Roger Button was now fifty, and he and his son
were more and more companionable--in fact, since Benjamin had ceased
to dye his hair (which was still grayish) they appeared about the same
age, and could have passed for brothers.
One night in August they got into the phaeton attired in their
full-dress suits and drove out to a dance at the Shevlins' country
and late-blooming harvest flowers breathed into the motionless air
carpeted for rods around with bright wheat, was translucent126 as in the
of the sky--almost.
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收听单词发音
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1
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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4
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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16
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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falteringly
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| 口吃地，支吾地 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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30
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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parlance
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| n.说法；语调 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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40
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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41
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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42
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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43
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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44
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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45
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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46
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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47
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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48
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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49
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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50
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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51
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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52
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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53
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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54
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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55
plod
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| v.沉重缓慢地走，孜孜地工作 | |
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56
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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57
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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58
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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59
residential
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| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
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60
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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61
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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62
primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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63
itches
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| n.痒( itch的名词复数 )；渴望，热望v.发痒( itch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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64
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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65
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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66
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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67
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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68
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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69
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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70
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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71
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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72
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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73
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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74
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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75
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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76
shears
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| n.大剪刀 | |
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77
ensemble
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| n.合奏(唱)组；全套服装；整体，总效果 | |
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78
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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79
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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80
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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81
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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84
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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85
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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86
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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87
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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88
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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89
spanking
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| adj.强烈的，疾行的；n.打屁股 | |
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90
stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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91
encyclopedia
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| n.百科全书 | |
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92
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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93
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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94
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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95
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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96
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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97
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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98
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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99
dictatorial
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| adj. 独裁的，专断的 | |
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100
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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101
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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102
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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103
determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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104
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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105
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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106
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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107
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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108
freshman
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| n.大学一年级学生(可兼指男女) | |
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109
registrar
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| n.记录员，登记员；(大学的)注册主任 | |
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110
dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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111
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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112
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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113
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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114
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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115
permeated
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| 弥漫( permeate的过去式和过去分词 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
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116
bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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117
awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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118
bustles
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| 热闹( bustle的名词复数 )； （女裙后部的）衬垫； 撑架 | |
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119
prodigy
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| n.惊人的事物，奇迹，神童，天才，预兆 | |
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120
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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121
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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122
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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123
lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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124
platinum
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| n.白金 | |
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125
aromas
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| n.芳香( aroma的名词复数 )；气味；风味；韵味 | |
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126
translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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127
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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