时间:2018-12-31 作者:英语课 分类:有声英语文学名著


英语课

 13


 
I WALKED all the way back to the hotel. Forty-one gorgeous blocks. I didn't do it because I felt like walking or anything. It was more because I didn't feel like getting in and out of another taxicab. Sometimes you get tired of riding in taxicabs the same way you get tired riding in elevators. All of a sudden, you have to walk, no matter how far or how high up. When I was a kid, I used to walk all the way up to our apartment very frequently. Twelve stories.
 
You wouldn't even have known it had snowed at all. There was hardly any snow on the sidewalks. But it was freezing cold, and I took my red hunting hat out of my pocket and put it on―I didn't give a damn how I looked. I even put the earlaps down. I wished I knew who'd swiped my gloves at Pencey, because my hands were freezing. Not that I'd have done much about it even if I had known. I'm one of these very yellow guys. I try not to show it, but I am. For instance, if I'd found out at Pencey who'd stolen my gloves, I probably would've gone down to the crook 2's room and said, "Okay. How 'bout 1 handing over those gloves?" Then the crook that had stolen them probably would've said, his voice very innocent and all, "What gloves?" Then what I probably would've done, I'd have gone in his closet and found the gloves somewhere. Hidden in his goddam galoshes or something, for instance. I'd have taken them out and showed them to the guy and said, "I suppose these are your goddam gloves?" Then the crook probably would've given me this very phony, innocent look, and said, "I never saw those gloves before in my life. If they're yours, take 'em. I don't want the goddam things." Then I probably would've just stood there for about five minutes. I'd have the damn gloves right in my hand and all, but I'd feel I ought to sock the guy in the jaw 3 or something―break his goddam jaw. Only, I wouldn't have the guts 4 to do it. I'd just stand there, trying to look tough. What I might do, I might say something very cutting and snotty, to rile him up― instead of socking him in the jaw. Anyway if I did say something very cutting and snotty, he'd probably get up and come over to me and say, "Listen, Caulfield. Are you calling me a crook?" Then, instead of saying, "You're goddam right I am, you dirty crooked 5 bastard 6!" all I probably would've said would be, "All I know is my goddam gloves were in your goddam galoshes." Right away then, the guy would know for sure that I wasn't going to take a sock at him, and he probably would've said, "Listen. Let's get this straight. Are you calling me a thief?" Then I probably would've said, "Nobody's calling anybody a thief. All I know is my gloves were in your goddam galoshes." It could go on like that for hours. Finally, though, I'd leave his room without even taking a sock at him. I'd probably go down to the can and sneak 7 a cigarette and watch myself getting tough in the mirror. Anyway, that's what I thought about the whole way back to the hotel. It's no fun to be yellow. Maybe I'm not all yellow. I don't know. I think maybe I'm just partly yellow and partly the type that doesn't give much of a damn if they lose their gloves. One of my troubles is, I never care too much when I lose something―it used to drive my mother crazy when I was a kid. Some guys spend days looking for something they lost. I never seem to have anything that if I lost it I'd care too much. Maybe that's why I'm partly yellow. It's no excuse, though. It really isn't. What you should be is not yellow at all. If you're supposed to sock somebody in the jaw, and you sort of feel like doing it, you should do it. I'm just no good at it, though. I'd rather push a guy out the window or chop his head off with an ax than sock him in the jaw. I hate fist fights. I don't mind getting hit so much―although I'm not crazy about it, naturally―but what scares me most in a fist fight is the guy's face. I can't stand looking at the other guy's face, is my trouble. It wouldn't be so bad if you could both be blindfolded 8 or something. It's a funny kind of yellowness, when you come to think of it, but it's yellowness, all right. I'm not kidding myself.
 
The more I thought about my gloves and my yellowness, the more depressed 9 I got, and I decided 10, while I was walking and all, to stop off and have a drink somewhere. I'd only had three drinks at Ernie's, and I didn't even finish the last one. One thing I have, it's a terrific capacity. I can drink all night and not even show it, if I'm in the mood. Once, at the Whooton School, this other boy, Raymond Goldfarb, and I bought a pint 11 of Scotch 12 and drank it in the chapel 13 one Saturday night, where nobody'd see us. He got stinking 15, but I hardly didn't even show it. I just got very cool and nonchalant. I puked before I went to bed, but I didn't really have to―I forced myself.
 
Anyway, before I got to the hotel, I started to go in this dumpy-looking bar, but two guys came out, drunk as hell, and wanted to know where the subway was. One of them was this very Cuban-looking guy, and he kept breathing his stinking breath in my face while I gave him directions. I ended up not even going in the damn bar. I just went back to the hotel.
 
The whole lobby was empty. It smelled like fifty million dead cigars. It really did. I wasn't sleepy or anything, but I was feeling sort of lousy. Depressed and all. I almost wished I was dead.
 
Then, all of a sudden, I got in this big mess.
 
The first thing when I got in the elevator, the elevator guy said to me, "Innarested in having a good time, fella? Or is it too late for you?"
 
"How do you mean?" I said. I didn't know what he was driving at or anything.
 
"Innarested in a little tail t'night?"
 
"Me?" I said. Which was a very dumb answer, but it's quite embarrassing when somebody comes right up and asks you a question like that.
 
"How old are you, chief?" the elevator guy said.
 
"Why?" I said. "Twenty-two."
 
"Uh huh. Well, how 'bout it? Y'innarested? Five bucks 16 a throw. Fifteen bucks the whole night." He looked at his wrist watch. "Till noon. Five bucks a throw, fifteen bucks till noon."
 
"Okay," I said. It was against my principles and all, but I was feeling so depressed I didn't even think. That's the whole trouble. When you're feeling very depressed, you can't even think.
 
"Okay what? A throw, or till noon? I gotta know."
 
"Just a throw."
 
"Okay, what room ya in?"
 
I looked at the red thing with my number on it, on my key. "Twelve twenty-two," I said. I was already sort of sorry I'd let the thing start rolling, but it was too late now.
 
"Okay. I'll send a girl up in about fifteen minutes." He opened the doors and I got out.
 
"Hey, is she good-looking?" I asked him. "I don't want any old bag."
 
"No old bag. Don't worry about it, chief."
 
"Who do I pay?"
 
"Her," he said. "Let's go, chief." He shut the doors, practically right in my face.
 
I went to my room and put some water on my hair, but you can't really comb a crew cut or anything. Then I tested to see if my breath stank 17 from so many cigarettes and the Scotch and sodas 18 I drank at Ernie's. All you do is hold your hand under your mouth and blow your breath up toward the old nostrils 19. It didn't seem to stink 14 much, but I brushed my teeth anyway. Then I put on another clean shirt. I knew I didn't have to get all dolled up for a prostitute or anything, but it sort of gave me something to do. I was a little nervous. I was starting to feel pretty sexy and all, but I was a little nervous anyway. If you want to know the truth, I'm a virgin 20. I really am. I've had quite a few opportunities to lose my virginity and all, but I've never got around to it yet. Something always happens. For instance, if you're at a girl's house, her parents always come home at the wrong time―or you're afraid they will. Or if you're in the back seat of somebody's car, there's always somebody's date in the front seat―some girl, I mean―that always wants to know what's going on all over the whole goddam car. I mean some girl in front keeps turning around to see what the hell's going on. Anyway, something always happens. I came quite close to doing it a couple of times, though. One time in particular, I remember. Something went wrong, though―I don't even remember what any more. The thing is, most of the time when you're coming pretty close to doing it with a girl―a girl that isn't a prostitute or anything, I mean―she keeps telling you to stop. The trouble with me is, I stop. Most guys don't. I can't help it. You never know whether they really want you to stop, or whether they're just scared as hell, or whether they're just telling you to stop so that if you do go through with it, the blame'll be on you, not them. Anyway, I keep stopping. The trouble is, I get to feeling sorry for them. I mean most girls are so dumb and all. After you neck them for a while, you can really watch them losing their brains. You take a girl when she really gets passionate 21, she just hasn't any brains. I don't know. They tell me to stop, so I stop. I always wish I hadn't, after I take them home, but I keep doing it anyway.
 
Anyway, while I was putting on another clean shirt, I sort of figured this was my big chance, in a way. I figured if she was a prostitute and all, I could get in some practice on her, in case I ever get married or anything. I worry about that stuff sometimes. I read this book once, at the Whooton School, that had this very sophisticated, suave 22, sexy guy in it. Monsieur Blanchard was his name, I can still remember. It was a lousy book, but this Blanchard guy was pretty good. He had this big château and all on the Riviera, in Europe, and all he did in his spare time was beat women off with a club. He was a real rake and all, but he knocked women out. He said, in this one part, that a woman's body is like a violin and all, and that it takes a terrific musician to play it right. It was a very corny book―I realize that―but I couldn't get that violin stuff out of my mind anyway. In a way, that's why I sort of wanted to get some practice in, in case I ever get married. Caulfield and his Magic Violin, boy. It's corny, I realize, but it isn't too corny. I wouldn't mind being pretty good at that stuff. Half the time, if you really want to know the truth, when I'm horsing around with a girl, I have a helluva lot of trouble just finding what I'm looking for, for God's sake, if you know what I mean. Take this girl that I just missed having sexual intercourse 23 with, that I told you about. It took me about an hour to just get her goddam brassiere off. By the time I did get it off, she was about ready to spit in my eye.
 
Anyway, I kept walking around the room, waiting for this prostitute to show up. I kept hoping she'd be good-looking. I didn't care too much, though. I sort of just wanted to get it over with. Finally, somebody knocked on the door, and when I went to open it, I had my suitcase right in the way and I fell over it and damn near broke my knee. I always pick a gorgeous time to fall over a suitcase or something.
 
When I opened the door, this prostitute was standing 24 there. She had a polo coat on, and no hat. She was sort of a blonde, but you could tell she dyed her hair. She wasn't any old bag, though. "How do you do," I said. Suave as hell, boy.
 
"You the guy Maurice said?" she asked me. She didn't seem too goddam friendly.
 
"Is he the elevator boy?"
 
"Yeah," she said.
 
"Yes, I am. Come in, won't you?" I said. I was getting more and more nonchalant as it went along. I really was.
 
She came in and took her coat off right away and sort of chucked it on the bed. She had on a green dress underneath 25. Then she sort of sat down sideways on the chair that went with the desk in the room and started jiggling her foot up and down. She crossed her legs and started jiggling this one foot up and down. She was very nervous, for a prostitute. She really was. I think it was because she was young as hell. She was around my age. I sat down in the big chair, next to her, and offered her a cigarette. "I don't smoke," she said. She had a tiny little wheeny-whiny voice. You could hardly hear her. She never said thank you, either, when you offered her something. She just didn't know any better.
 
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jim Steele," I said.
 
"Ya got a watch on ya?" she said. She didn't care what the hell my name was, naturally. "Hey, how old are you, anyways?"
 
"Me? Twenty-two."
 
"Like fun you are."
 
It was a funny thing to say. It sounded like a real kid. You'd think a prostitute and all would say "Like hell you are" or "Cut the crap" instead of "Like fun you are."
 
"How old are you?" I asked her.
 
"Old enough to know better," she said. She was really witty 26. "Ya got a watch on ya?" she asked me again, and then she stood up and pulled her dress over her head.
 
I certainly felt peculiar 27 when she did that. I mean she did it so sudden and all. I know you're supposed to feel pretty sexy when somebody gets up and pulls their dress over their head, but I didn't. Sexy was about the last thing I was feeling. I felt much more depressed than sexy.
 
"Ya got a watch on ya, hey?"
 
"No. No, I don't," I said. Boy, was I feeling peculiar. "What's your name?" I asked her. All she had on was this pink slip. It was really quite embarrassing. It really was.
 
"Sunny," she said. "Let's go, hey."
 
"Don't you feel like talking for a while?" I asked her. It was a childish thing to say, but I was feeling so damn peculiar. "Are you in a very big hurry?"
 
She looked at me like I was a madman. "What the heck ya wanna talk about?" she said.
 
"I don't know. Nothing special. I just thought perhaps you might care to chat for a while."
 
She sat down in the chair next to the desk again. She didn't like it, though, you could tell. She started jiggling her foot again―boy, she was a nervous girl.
 
"Would you care for a cigarette now?" I said. I forgot she didn't smoke.
 
"I don't smoke. Listen, if you're gonna talk, do it. I got things to do."
 
I couldn't think of anything to talk about, though. I thought of asking her how she got to be a prostitute and all, but I was scared to ask her. She probably wouldn't've told me anyway.
 
"You don't come from New York, do you?" I said finally. That's all I could think of.
 
"Hollywood," she said. Then she got up and went over to where she'd put her dress down, on the bed. "Ya got a hanger 28? I don't want to get my dress all wrinkly. It's brand-clean."
 
"Sure," I said right away. I was only too glad to get up and do something. I took her dress over to the closet and hung it up for her. It was funny. It made me feel sort of sad when I hung it up. I thought of her going in a store and buying it, and nobody in the store knowing she was a prostitute and all. The salesman probably just thought she was a regular girl when she bought it. It made me feel sad as hell―I don't know why exactly.
 
I sat down again and tried to keep the old conversation going. She was a lousy conversationalist. "Do you work every night?" I asked her―it sounded sort of awful, after I'd said it.
 
"Yeah." She was walking all around the room. She picked up the menu off the desk and read it.
 
"What do you do during the day?"
 
She sort of shrugged 29 her shoulders. She was pretty skinny. "Sleep. Go to the show." She put down the menu and looked at me. "Let's go, hey. I haven't got all―"
 
"Look," I said. "I don't feel very much like myself tonight. I've had a rough night. Honest to God. I'll pay you and all, but do you mind very much if we don't do it? Do you mind very much?" The trouble was, I just didn't want to do it. I felt more depressed than sexy, if you want to know the truth. She was depressing. Her green dress hanging in the closet and all. And besides, I don't think I could ever do it with somebody that sits in a stupid movie all day long. I really don't think I could.
 
She came over to me, with this funny look on her face, like as if she didn't believe me. "What'sa matter?" she said.
 
"Nothing's the matter." Boy, was I getting nervous. "The thing is, I had an operation very recently."
 
"Yeah? Where?"
 
"On my wuddayacallit―my clavichord 30."
 
"Yeah? Where the hell's that?"
 
"The clavichord?" I said. "Well, actually, it's in the spinal 31 canal. I mean it's quite a ways down in the spinal canal."
 
"Yeah?" she said. "That's tough." Then she sat down on my goddam lap. "You're cute."
 
She made me so nervous, I just kept on lying my head off. "I'm still recuperating," I told her.
 
"You look like a guy in the movies. You know. Whosis. You know who I mean. What the heck's his name?"
 
"I don't know," I said. She wouldn't get off my goddam lap.
 
"Sure you know. He was in that pitcher 32 with Mel-vine Douglas? The one that was Mel-vine Douglas's kid brother? That falls off this boat? You know who I mean."
 
"No, I don't. I go to the movies as seldom as I can."
 
Then she started getting funny. Crude and all.
 
"Do you mind cutting it out?" I said. "I'm not in the mood, I just told you. I just had an operation."
 
She didn't get up from my lap or anything, but she gave me this terrifically dirty look. "Listen," she said. "I was sleepin' when that crazy Maurice woke me up. If you think I'm―"
 
"I said I'd pay you for coming and all. I really will. I have plenty of dough 33. It's just that I'm practically just recovering from a very serious―"
 
"What the heck did you tell that crazy Maurice you wanted a girl for, then? If you just had a goddam operation on your goddam wuddayacallit. Huh?"
 
"I thought I'd be feeling a lot better than I do. I was a little premature 34 in my calculations. No kidding. I'm sorry. If you'll just get up a second, I'll get my wallet. I mean it."
 
She was sore as hell, but she got up off my goddam lap so that I could go over and get my wallet off the chiffonier. I took out a five-dollar bill and handed it to her. "Thanks a lot," I told her. "Thanks a million."
 
"This is a five. It costs ten."
 
She was getting funny, you could tell. I was afraid something like that would happen―I really was.
 
"Maurice said five," I told her. "He said fifteen till noon and only five for a throw."
 
"Ten for a throw."
 
"He said five. I'm sorry―I really am―but that's all I'm gonna shell out."
 
She sort of shrugged her shoulders, the way she did before, and then she said, very cold, "Do you mind getting me my frock? Or would it be too much trouble?" She was a pretty spooky kid. Even with that little bitty voice she had, she could sort of scare you a little bit. If she'd been a big old prostitute, with a lot of makeup 35 on her face and all, she wouldn't have been half as spooky.
 
I went and got her dress for her. She put it on and all, and then she picked up her polo coat off the bed. "So long, crumb-bum," she said.
 
"So long," I said. I didn't thank her or anything. I'm glad I didn't.

n.侵袭,发作;一次(阵,回);拳击等比赛
  • I was suffering with a bout of nerves.我感到一阵紧张。
  • That bout of pneumonia enfeebled her.那次肺炎的发作使她虚弱了。
v.使弯曲;n.小偷,骗子,贼;弯曲(处)
  • He demanded an apology from me for calling him a crook.我骂他骗子,他要我向他认错。
  • She was cradling a small parcel in the crook of her elbow.她用手臂挎着一个小包裹。
n.颚,颌,说教,流言蜚语;v.喋喋不休,教训
  • He delivered a right hook to his opponent's jaw.他给了对方下巴一记右钩拳。
  • A strong square jaw is a sign of firm character.强健的方下巴是刚毅性格的标志。
v.狼吞虎咽,贪婪地吃,飞碟游戏(比赛双方每组5人,相距15码,互相掷接飞碟);毁坏(建筑物等)的内部( gut的第三人称单数 );取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 );内脏;消化道的下段;肠
  • I'll only cook fish if the guts have been removed. 鱼若已收拾干净,我只需烧一下即可。
  • Barbara hasn't got the guts to leave her mother. 巴巴拉没有勇气离开她妈妈。 来自《简明英汉词典》
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的
  • He crooked a finger to tell us to go over to him.他弯了弯手指,示意我们到他那儿去。
  • You have to drive slowly on these crooked country roads.在这些弯弯曲曲的乡间小路上你得慢慢开车。
n.坏蛋,混蛋;私生子
  • He was never concerned about being born a bastard.他从不介意自己是私生子。
  • There was supposed to be no way to get at the bastard.据说没有办法买通那个混蛋。
vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝);偷偷摸摸做;n.潜行;adj.暗中进行
  • He raised his spear and sneak forward.他提起长矛悄悄地前进。
  • I saw him sneak away from us.我看见他悄悄地从我们身边走开。
v.(尤指用布)挡住(某人)的视线( blindfold的过去式 );蒙住(某人)的眼睛;使不理解;蒙骗
  • The hostages were tied up and blindfolded. 人质被捆绑起来并蒙上了眼睛。
  • They were each blindfolded with big red handkerchiefs. 他们每个人的眼睛都被一块红色大手巾蒙住了。 来自《简明英汉词典》
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的
  • When he was depressed,he felt utterly divorced from reality.他心情沮丧时就感到完全脱离了现实。
  • His mother was depressed by the sad news.这个坏消息使他的母亲意志消沉。
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的
  • This gave them a decided advantage over their opponents.这使他们比对手具有明显的优势。
  • There is a decided difference between British and Chinese way of greeting.英国人和中国人打招呼的方式有很明显的区别。
n.品脱
  • I'll have a pint of beer and a packet of crisps, please.我要一品脱啤酒和一袋炸马铃薯片。
  • In the old days you could get a pint of beer for a shilling.从前,花一先令就可以买到一品脱啤酒。
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的
  • Facts will eventually scotch these rumours.这种谣言在事实面前将不攻自破。
  • Italy was full of fine views and virtually empty of Scotch whiskey.意大利多的是美景,真正缺的是苏格兰威士忌。
n.小教堂,殡仪馆
  • The nimble hero,skipped into a chapel that stood near.敏捷的英雄跳进近旁的一座小教堂里。
  • She was on the peak that Sunday afternoon when she played in chapel.那个星期天的下午,她在小教堂的演出,可以说是登峰造极。
vi.发出恶臭;糟透,招人厌恶;n.恶臭
  • The stink of the rotten fish turned my stomach.腐烂的鱼臭味使我恶心。
  • The room has awful stink.那个房间散发着难闻的臭气。
adj.臭的,烂醉的,讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 );发臭味;名声臭;糟透
  • I was pushed into a filthy, stinking room. 我被推进一间又脏又臭的屋子里。
  • Those lousy, stinking ships. It was them that destroyed us. 是的!就是那些该死的蠢猪似的臭飞船!是它们毁了我们。 来自英汉非文学 - 科幻
n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 );钱;(英国十九世纪初的)花花公子;(用于某些表达方式)责任v.(马等)猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 );抵制;猛然震荡;马等尥起后蹄跳跃
  • They cost ten bucks. 这些值十元钱。
  • They are hunting for bucks. 他们正在猎雄兔。 来自《简明英汉词典》
n.苏打( soda的名词复数 );碱;苏打水;汽水
  • There are plenty of sodas in the refrigerator. 冰箱里有很多碳酸饮料。 来自辞典例句
  • Two whisky and sodas, please. 请来两杯威士忌苏打。 来自辞典例句
鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 )
  • Her nostrils flared with anger. 她气得两个鼻孔都鼓了起来。
  • The horse dilated its nostrils. 马张大鼻孔。
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的
  • Have you ever been to a virgin forest?你去过原始森林吗?
  • There are vast expanses of virgin land in the remote regions.在边远地区有大片大片未开垦的土地。
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的
  • He is said to be the most passionate man.据说他是最有激情的人。
  • He is very passionate about the project.他对那个项目非常热心。
adj.温和的;柔和的;文雅的
  • He is a suave,cool and cultured man.他是个世故、冷静、有教养的人。
  • I had difficulty answering his suave questions.我难以回答他的一些彬彬有礼的提问。
n.性交;交流,交往,交际
  • The magazine becomes a cultural medium of intercourse between the two peoples.该杂志成为两民族间文化交流的媒介。
  • There was close intercourse between them.他们过往很密。
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的
  • After the earthquake only a few houses were left standing.地震过后只有几幢房屋还立着。
  • They're standing out against any change in the law.他们坚决反对对法律做任何修改。
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面
  • Working underneath the car is always a messy job.在汽车底下工作是件脏活。
  • She wore a coat with a dress underneath.她穿着一件大衣,里面套着一条连衣裙。
adj.机智的,风趣的
  • Her witty remarks added a little salt to the conversation.她的妙语使谈话增添了一些风趣。
  • He scored a bull's-eye in their argument with that witty retort.在他们的辩论中他那一句机智的反驳击中了要害。
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的
  • He walks in a peculiar fashion.他走路的样子很奇特。
  • He looked at me with a very peculiar expression.他用一种很奇怪的表情看着我。
n.吊架,吊轴承;挂钩
  • I hung my coat up on a hanger.我把外衣挂在挂钩上。
  • The ship is fitted with a large helicopter hanger and flight deck.这艘船配备有一个较大的直升飞机悬挂装置和飞行甲板。
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式)
  • Sam shrugged and said nothing. 萨姆耸耸肩膀,什么也没说。
  • She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 她耸耸肩,装出一副无所谓的样子。 来自《简明英汉词典》
n.(敲弦)古钢琴
  • Our clavichord is kept in the living room.我们的击弦古钢琴是放在起居室里的。
  • The clavichord which my grandfather bought years ago was damaged.我祖父多年前买的古钢琴被损坏了。
adj.针的,尖刺的,尖刺状突起的;adj.脊骨的,脊髓的
  • After three days in Japan,the spinal column becomes extraordinarily flexible.在日本三天,就已经使脊椎骨变得富有弹性了。
  • Your spinal column is made up of 24 movable vertebrae.你的脊柱由24个活动的脊椎骨构成。
n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐;(棒球)投手
  • He poured the milk out of the pitcher.他从大罐中倒出牛奶。
  • Any pitcher is liable to crack during a tight game.任何投手在紧张的比赛中都可能会失常。
n.生面团;钱,现款
  • She formed the dough into squares.她把生面团捏成四方块。
  • The baker is kneading dough.那位面包师在揉面。
adj.比预期时间早的;不成熟的,仓促的
  • It is yet premature to predict the possible outcome of the dialogue.预言这次对话可能有什么结果为时尚早。
  • The premature baby is doing well.那个早产的婴儿很健康。
n.组织;性格;化装品
  • Those who failed the exam take a makeup exam.这次考试不及格的人必须参加补考。
  • Do you think her beauty could makeup for her stupidity?你认为她的美丽能弥补她的愚蠢吗?
学英语单词
abbreviated argument
ability to harden
absorbed manufacturing expense
acid-fast nonphotochromogen
aerial transparency
an Antarctic expedition
Anamniota
aposteme
as-yet-unknowns
badly-designeds
badmouthed
ball socket adjuster
bopeep
C.I.G.S.
cheer
chlodwig
christmas pyramid
chromidium
cobblestone
compound tide
concurrently-shared resource
crushed zone
culpable homicide
cyclophorus formosaensis
daily traffic flow
dame barbara hepworths
desulfurases
developpes
Diemel
EABV
fiducial point
financial-service
fishing basket
floribundas
fourty equivalent unit
front vertex focal distance
fuel lifetime
General Foods Co.
genus cronartiums
global schema
gnawing at
golden clematiss
gotten cracking
grave's
half duty
hannemann
hide sorter
high volume account
homeappliance
homoveratric acid
humanas
husbands
hypabyssally
i-swowen
immunological unresponsiveness
index servo
integrative
inter-bourse
interabangs
joint cummulative distribution function
knob gobblers
Kyamepromazine
land use capability survey
Lutefium
marchia barclayana
mathematical modeling
metromalacia
mishent
movement picture
orthogonality conditions
painted sandgrouse
pallidoidosis
pandurata
pharmacons
pomatuming
profit ratio of paid-in capital
pseudomones sp.
pulsus
QBE
recovered solvent
roller comnveyor
rotation of the Earth
scolopendrium
side-draw
silvertipped
songfully
spallanzani
Still water runs deep
supported type abutment
sync non-linearity
thiomerin
Tukulan
two-liter
undefined
unexpended ammunition
Unified Threat Management
vacuum tube modulator
ventriculus mesencephalicus
waterslides
whatsernames
whrinny
Yalutsangpu River