Chapter 1

On a January evening of the early seventies, the high society of New York gathered at the Academy of Music in New York.

Conservatives cherished it for being small and inconvenient,and thus keeping out the “new people” whom New York was beginning to dread and yet be drawn to; the sentimental clung to it for its historic associations ; and the musical for its excellent acoustics , always a problem in halls built for the hearing of music.

When Newland Archer opened the door at the back of the club box the curtain had just gone up on the garden scene.There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier, for he had dined at seven, along with his mother and sister, and had lingered afterward over a cigar. But, New York was a major city, and people were perfectly aware that in major cities it was “not the thing” to arrive early at the opera; and what was or was not “the thing” played quite an important part in Newland Archer’s New York.

Newland Archer, leaning against the wall at the back of the club box, turned his eyes from the stage and scanned the opposite side of the house. Directly facing him was the box of old Mrs. Manson Mingott, whose monstrous size had long since made it impossible for her to attend the opera, but who was always represented on fashionable nights by some of the younger members of the family.

On this occasion, the front of the box was filled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and her daughter, Mrs.Welland; behind these older women sat a young girl in white with eyes ecstatically fixed on the lovers on stage.

“The darling!” thought Newland Archer as he watched her. “She doesn’t even guess what the play is all about.” And he contemplated her absorbed young face with a thrill of ownership in which pride in his own masculine initiation was mingled with a tender reverence for her purity.

It was only that afternoon that May Welland had let him guess that she “cared” (New York’s sacred phrase of a maiden’s consent to marry), and his imagination was already leaping ahead to the engagement ring, the wedding kiss and the honeymoon .

He did not in the least wish the future Mrs. Archer to be ignorant . He meant her (thanks to his enlightening companionship ) to develop a social tact and readiness of wit , enabling her to hold her own with the most popular married women of the “younger set,” in which it was the recognised custom to attract masculine homage while playfully discouraging it. If he had probed to the bottom of his vanity (as he sometimes nearly did) he would have found the wish that his wife should be as worldly-wise and as eager to please as the married lady whose charms had held his fancy through two mildly agitated years; without, of course, any hint of the frailty which had so nearly marred that unhappy being’s life, and had disarranged his own plans for a whole winter after their love affair ended.

In intellectual and artistic matters, Newland Archer felt himself distinctly the superior of these chosen specimens of old New York manners; he had probably read more, thought more,and even seen a good deal more of the world, than any other man of the number. Singly they betrayed their inferiority ; but grouped together they represented “New York,” and the habit of masculine solidarity made him accept their doctrine on all the issues called moral. He instinctively felt that in this respect it would be troublesome — and also rather bad form — to strike out for himself.

“Well — upon my soul!” exclaimed Lawrence Lefferts,turning his head abruptly away from the stage. Lawrence Lefferts was, on the whole, the foremost authority on “form”in New York. He had probably devoted more time than any one else to the study of this intricate and fascinating question;but study alone could not account for his complete and easy competence . “My God!” he said, silently tapping old Sillerton Jackson on the shoulder.

Newland Archer, following Lefferts’ glance, saw with surprise that his exclamation had been occasioned by the entry of a new figure into old Mrs. Mingott’s box. It was that of a slim young woman, a little less tall than May Welland, with brown hair growing in close curls about her temples and held in place by a narrow band of diamonds, wearing quite a revealing velvet gown . She stood for a moment at the center of the box before taking a seat next to Mrs. Lovell Mingott.

Mr. Sillerton Jackson then turned his eyes away from the box. The whole of the club turned instinctively, waiting to hear what the old man was to say; for old Mr. Jackson was as great an authority on “family” as Lawrence Lefferts was on “form.”He knew all relationships between New York’s aristocratic families, including each family’s leading characteristics and certain family secrets within the past fifty years.

So far indeed did his information extend , and so acutely retentive was his memory, that he was supposed to be the only man who could have told you who Julius Beaufort, the banker,really was. But this mystery, and many others, were closely locked in Mr. Jackson’s breast ; for not only did his keen sense of honor forbid his repeating anything privately imparted, but he was fully aware that his reputation for discretion increased his opportunities of finding out what he wanted to know.

The club box, therefore, waited for Mr. Sillerton Jackson to speak. For a moment he silently observed the attentive group,and simply said, “I didn’t think the Mingotts would have tried it.”

Newland Archer, during this brief episode , had been thrown into a strange state of embarrassment .

It was annoying that the box which was thus attracting the undivided attention of masculine New Yorkers should be that in which his fiancée was seated between her mother and aunt; and for a moment he could not identify the lady in the unusual dress,nor imagine why her presence created such excitement among the initiated . Then light dawned on him, and with it came a momentary rush of indignation . No, indeed; no one would have thought the Mingotts would have tried it!

But they had; they undoubtedly had; for the low- toned comments behind him left no doubt in Archer’s mind that the young woman was May Welland’s cousin, the cousin always referred to in the family as “poor Ellen Olenska.” Archer knew that she had suddenly arrived from Europe a day or two previously; he had even heard from Miss Welland (not disapprovingly) that she had been to see poor Ellen, who was staying with old Mrs. Mingott. Archer entirely approved of family solidarity, and one of the qualities he most admired in the Mingotts was their resolute championship of the few black sheep that their blameless stock had produced.

He was certainly glad that his future wife should not be restrained from being kind (in private) to her unhappy cousin;but to receive Countess Olenska in the family circle was a different thing from producing her in public, at the opera of all places, and in the very box with the young girl whose engagement to him, Newland Archer, was to be announced within a few weeks. No, he felt as old Sillerton Jackson felt; he did not think the Mingotts would have tried it!

He knew, of course, that old Mrs. Manson Mingott, the female head of the line, would dare. He had always admired the high and mighty old lady, who, with a father mysteriously discredited, and neither money nor position enough to make people forget it, had allied herself with the head of the wealthy Mingott line and married two of her daughters to “foreigners”(an Italian aristocrat and an English banker).

Everyone (including Mr. Sillerton Jackson) was agreed that old Catherine had never had beauty — a gift which, in the eyes of New Yorkers, justified every success, and excused a certain number of failings . Unkind people said that she had won her way to success by strength of will and hardness of heart,and a kind of proud confidence that was somehow justified by the extreme decency and dignity of her private life. Mr. Manson Mingott had died when she was only twenty-eight, and had “tied up” the money with an additional caution born of the general distrust of his wife’s family; but his bold young widow went her way fearlessly , mingled freely in foreign society, married her daughters in unknown social circles and entertained opera singers.

Mrs. Manson Mingott had long since succeeded in untying her husband’s fortune, and had lived in affluence for half a century; but memories of her early straits had made her excessively thrifty , and though, when she bought a dress or a piece of furniture, she took care that it should be of the best, she could not bring herself to spend much on her table.Therefore, for totally different reasons, her food was as poor as Mrs. Archer’s, and her wines did nothing to redeem it.

Newland Archer once more turned his eyes toward Mrs.Mingott’s box. He saw that Mrs. Welland and her sister-inlaw were facing their critics with confidence, and that only May Welland betrayed, by a heightened colour (perhaps due to the knowledge that he was watching her), a sense of the gravity of the situation. As for the cause of the commotion, she sat gracefully in her corner of the box, her eyes fixed on the stage, revealing, as she leaned forward, a little more shoulder and bosom than New York was accustomed to seeing, at least in ladies who had reasons for wishing to pass unnoticed. Archer hated to think of May Welland being exposed to the influence of a young woman so careless with her reputation.

“After all,” he heard one of the younger men begin behind him, “just what happened?”

“Well — she left him; nobody attempts to deny that.”

“He’s an awful brute , isn’t he?” continued the younger.

“The very worst; I knew him in France,” said Lawrence Lefferts with authority.

“Well, I’ll tell you that when he wasn’t with women, he was collecting art. Paying any price for both, I understand.”

There was a general laugh.

“Well, then,” continued Lefferts, “she bolted with his secretary. It didn’t last long, though. I heard of her a few months later living alone in Venice. She was desperately unhappy, so the family sent for her. That’s all right — but this parading of her at the opera is another thing.”

The act was ending, and there was a general stir in the box.Suddenly Newland Archer felt himself obligated to a decisive action. He desired to be the first man to enter Mrs. Mingott’s box, to proclaim to the waiting world his engagement to May Welland, and to see her through whatever difficulties her cousin’s peculiar situation might involve her in.

As he entered the box his eyes met Miss Welland’s, and he saw that she had instantly understood his motive , though the family dignity which both considered so high a virtue would not permit her to tell him so. The persons of their world lived in an atmosphere of faint implications and pale delicacies , and the fact that he and she understood each other without a word seemed to the young man to bring them nearer than any explanation would have done. Her eyes said, “You see why Mama brought me,” and his eyes answered, “I would not for the world have had you stay away.”

After making formal introductions, Archer sat down beside Miss Welland, saying in a low tone , “I hope you’ve told Madame Olenska that we’re engaged. I want everybody to know — I want you to let me announce it this evening at the ball.”

Miss Welland’s face grew rosy as the dawn, and she looked at him with radiant eyes. “If you can persuade Mama,” she said,“but why should we change what is already settled?”

He made no answer but that which his eyes returned,and she added, still more confidently smiling, “Tell my cousin yourself. I give you permission. She says she used to play with you when you were children.”

Archer then went to Madame Olenska, and sat with her for a few moments, rather astonished at the immediate friendliness of her manner and speech.

“Yes, you have been away for a very long time,” he mentioned reflectivel .

“Oh, centuries and centuries; so long,” she said, “that I’m sure I’m dead and buried, and this dear old place is heaven.”This, for reasons which he could not define, struck Newland Archer as a disrespectful way of describing New York society.

It invariably happened in the same way each year. Mrs.Julius Beaufort, on the night of her annual ball, never failed to appear at the opera; indeed, she always gave her ball on an opera night in order to emphasize her complete superiority to household cares, and her possession of a staff of servants competent to organize every detail of the entertainment in her absence .

The Beauforts’ house was one of the few in New York that possessed a ballroom ; this undoubted superiority was felt to compensate for whatever mysterious secret in the Beaufort past.

Mrs. Beaufort belonged indeed to one of America’s most honored families; she had been the lovely Regina Dallas (of the South Carolina branch), a penniless beauty introduced to New York society by her cousin, the imprudent Medora Manson, who was always doing the wrong thing from the right motive.

The question was: who was Beaufort? He, passed for an Englishman, was agreeable, handsome, ill-tempered, hospitable and witty . He had come to America with letters of recommendation from old Mrs. Manson Mingott’s English sonin-law, the banker, and had speedily made himself an important position in the world of affairs; but his habits were dissipated , his tongue was bitter, his past history was mysterious; and when Medora Manson announced her cousin’s engagement to him it was felt to be one more act of foolishness in poor Medora’s long record of ignorance .

But two years after young Mrs. Beaufort’s marriage, it was admitted that she had the most distinguished house in New York. No one knew exactly how the miracle was accomplished .She was lazy and passive, and some even called her dull;but dressed like an idol , hung with pearls, growing younger and blonder and more beautiful each year, she ruled in Mr.Beaufort’s palace. The knowing people said it was Beaufort himself who trained the servants, taught the chef new dishes,selected the guests and dictated the little notes his wife wrote to her friends. If he did, these domestic activities were privately performed, and he presented to the world the appearance of a careless and hospitable millionaire, strolling into his own drawing room with the detachment of an invited guest.

Mr. Beaufort’s secret, people were agreed, was the way he carried things off. It was all very well to whisper that he had been “helped” to leave England by the international banking house in which he had been employed; he carried off that rumor as easily as the rest — though New York’s business conscience was no less sensitive than its moral standard — he carried everything before him, and all New Yorkers into his drawing room, and for over twenty years now people had said they were“going to the Beaufort’s” with dignity and satisfaction.

The Beaufort house was one that New York residents were proud to show to foreigners, especially on the night of the annual ball. The Beauforts had been among the first people in New York to own their own red velvet carpet and have it rolled down the steps. Then the house had been boldly planned with a ballroom, so that, instead of squeezing through a narrow passage to get to it, one marched solemnly down a series of drawing rooms and a garden room.

Newland Archer, as a young man of his position, strolled in somewhat late. He was distinctly nervous. He had not gone back to his club after the opera (as the young aristocrats usually did),but, the night being fine, had walked for some distance up Fifth Avenue before turning back in the direction of the Beaufort’s.He was definitely afraid that the Mingotts might be going too far; that, in fact, they might have Old Mrs. Mingott’s orders to bring the Countess Olenska to the ball.

From the tone of the club box he had perceived how grave a mistake that would be; and, though he was more than ever determined to “see the thing through,” he felt less eager to champion his fiancée’s cousin than before their brief talk at the opera.

Wandering to one of the drawing rooms, Archer found Mrs. Welland and her daughter standing near the ballroom door. Couples were already gliding over the floor beyond.Miss Welland, evidently about to join the dancers, hung on the threshold , her face a little pale, her eyes burning with an honest excitement. A group of young men and girls were gathered about her, and there was much hand- clasping and laughing, on which Mrs. Welland, standing slightly apart, shed the beam of a qualified approval. It was evident that Miss Welland was in the act of announcing her engagement, while her mother affected the air of parental reluctance considered suitable to the occasion.

Archer paused for a moment. It was at his express wish that the announcement had been made, and yet it was not thus that he would have wished to have his happiness known. To proclaim it in the heat and noise of a crowded ballroom was to rob it of the fine bloom of privacy which should belong to things nearest to the heart. His joy was so deep that this blurring of the surface left its essence untouched; but he would have liked to keep the surface pure too. It was something of a satisfaction to find that May Welland shared this feeling. Her eyes fled to his, and their look said, “Remember, we’re doing this because it’s right.”

No appeal could have found a more immediate response in Archer’s breast; but he wished that the necessity of their action had been represented by some ideal reason, and not simply by poor Ellen Olenska.

May’s lips trembled into a smile, but the eyes remained distant and serious, as if bent on some indescribable vision .

“Dear,” Archer whispered, pressing her to him; it was borne in on him that the first hours of being engaged, even if spent in a ballroom, had in them something grave. What a new life it was going to be, with this whiteness, radiance , goodness at one’s side!

The dance over, the two, as an engaged couple, wandered into the conservatory .

“You see, I did as you asked me to,” she said.

“Yes, I couldn’t wait,” he answered smiling. After a moment he added, “Only I wish it hadn’t had to be at a ball.”

“Yes, I know.” She met his glance comprehendingly . “But after all — even here we’re alone together, aren’t we?”

“Oh, dearest — always!” Archer cried.

Evidently she was always going to understand; she was always going to say the right thing. The discovery made the cup of his bliss overflow, and he went on gaily , “The worst of it is that I want to kiss you and I can’t.”

As he spoke he took a swift glance about the conservatory,assured himself of their momentary privacy, and catching her to him laid his lips on hers.

“Did you tell my cousin Ellen?” she asked presently, as if she spoke through a dream.

He roused himself, and remembered that he had not done so. Some unshakable disgust to speak of such things to the strange foreign woman had checked the words on his lips.

“No — I hadn’t the chance,” he said, lying hastily .

“Ah,” she looked disappointed, but gently resolved on gaining her point. “You must, then, for I didn’t either; and I shouldn’t like her to think —”

“Of course not. But aren’t you, after all, the person to do it?”

She pondered on this. “If I’d done it at the right time, yes;but now that there’s been a delay, I think you must explain that I’d asked you to tell her at the opera, before our speaking about it to everybody here. Otherwise she might think I had forgotten her. You see, she’s one of the family, and she’s been away so long that she’s rather sensitive.”

“Dear and great angel ! Of course I’ll tell her.” He glanced a trifle apprehensively toward the crowded ballroom. “But I haven’t seen her yet. Has she come?”

“No; at the last minute she decided not to.”

“At the last minute?” he echoed , betraying his surprise that she should ever have considered the alternative possible.

“Yes. She’s awfully fond of dancing,” the young girl answered simply. “But suddenly she made up her mind that her dress wasn’t fit for a ball, though we thought it so lovely; and so my aunt had to take her home.”

“Oh, well —” said Archer with happy indifference.Nothing about his fiancée pleased him more than her resolute determination to carry to its utmost limit that ritual of ignoring the “unpleasant” in which they had both been brought up.

“She knows as well as I do,” he reflecte , “the real reason of her cousin’s staying away; but I shall never let her see by the least sign that I am conscious of there being a shadow on poor Ellen Olenska’s reputation.”

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cherish /ˈtʃerɪʃ/ vt. 珍爱，怀有（希望等）

dread /dred/ vt. 惧怕，担心

sentimental /ˌsentɪˈmentəl/ adj. 感伤的，感情脆弱的

cling /klɪŋ/ vi. 粘紧，附着，紧贴，坚持（意见），墨守（习惯）

historic /hɪˈstɒrɪk/ adj. 历史上著名的，有历史性的

association /əˌsəʊsɪˈeɪʃən/ n. 联系，联想，联合

acoustics /əˈku:stɪks/ n. 声学，音响

linger /ˈlɪŋ ɡ ə/ vi. 逗留，闲荡，拖延

aware /əˈweə/ adj. 知道的，明白的，意识到的

lean /li:n/ vi. 倚靠，倾斜，依赖

scan /sk æ n/ vt. 细看，审视，浏览，扫描

monstrous /ˈmɒnstrəs/ adj. 巨大的，畸形的，怪异的

ecstatically /ɪkˈst æ tɪklɪ/ adv. 心醉神迷地，入神地

contemplate /ˈkɒntempleɪt/ vt. 凝视，沉思

absorbed /əbˈsɔ:bd/ adj. 全神贯注的，一心一意的

thrill /θrɪl/ n. 兴奋，激动

masculine /ˈm æ skjʊlɪn/ adj. 男性的，有男子气概的

initiation /ɪˌnɪʃɪˈeɪʃən/ n. 开始

mingle /ˈmɪŋɡl/ vt. （使）混合

reverence /ˈrevərəns/ n. 尊敬，敬重

sacred /ˈseɪkrɪd/ adj. 崇敬的，庄严的

imagination /ɪˌm æ dʒɪˈneɪʃən/ n. 想象，空想

leap /li:p/ vi. 跳，跳跃

honeymoon /ˈhʌnɪmu:n/ n. 蜜月

ignorant /ˈɪɡnərənt/ adj. 无知的

enlightening /ɪnˈl a ɪtənɪŋ/ adj. 启发的，启蒙的

companionship /kəmˈp æ nɪənʃɪp/ n. 交谊，友谊

tact /t æ kt/ n. 机智，手法，老练

readiness /ˈredɪnɪs/ n. 敏捷，迅速

wit /wɪt/ n. 智力，才智，智慧

enable /ɪˈneɪbl/ vt. 使能够，授予权利或方法

homage /ˈhɒmɪdʒ/ n. 敬意

vanity /ˈv æ nətɪ/ n. 虚荣

worldly-wise /ˈwɜ:ldlɪˈw a ɪz/ adj. 老于世故的

agitated /ˈ æ dʒɪteɪtɪd/ adj. 激动的，表现不安的

hint /hɪnt/ n. 暗示，提示，线索

frailty /ˈfreɪltɪ/ n. 虚弱，脆弱，品德上的弱点

mar /mɑ:/ vt. 弄坏，毁坏，损害

intellectual /ˌɪntɪˈlektjʊəl/ adj. 智力的，有智力的，显示智力的

distinctly /dɪˈstɪŋktlɪ/ adv. 清楚地，显然

superior /sju:ˈpɪərɪə/ adj. 高级的

specimen /ˈspesɪmɪn/ n. 范例，标本，样品，样本

betray /bɪˈtreɪ/ vt. 泄露（秘密），露出……迹象

inferiority /ɪnˌfɪərɪˈɒrətɪ/ n. 自卑，次等

solidarity /ˌsɒlɪˈd æ rətɪ/ n. 团结

doctrine /ˈdɒktrɪn/ n. 教条，学说

instinctively /ɪnˈstɪŋktɪvlɪ/ adv. 本能地

exclaim /ɪkˈskleɪm/ vt. 呼喊，惊叫，大声叫

abruptly /əˈbrʌptlɪ/ adv. 突然地，唐突地

intricate /ˈɪntrɪkət/ adj. 复杂的，错综的，难以理解的

fascinating /ˈf æ sɪneɪtɪŋ/ adj. 迷人的，醉人的，着魔的

competence /ˈkɒmpɪtəns/ n. 能力

exclamation /ˌekskləˈmeɪʃən/ n. 惊叹，感叹

curl /kɜ:l/ n. 卷状物，一缕卷发

temple /ˈtempl/ n. 太阳穴（前额两侧）

band /b æ nd/ n. 带，条

revealing /rɪˈvi:lɪŋ/ adj. 显露的

velvet /ˈvelvɪt/ n. 天鹅绒

gown / ɡa ʊn/ n. 衣服

characteristic /ˌk æ rəktəˈrɪstɪk/ n. 特性，特点

extend /ɪkˈstend/ vi. 扩充

acutely /əˈkju:tlɪ/ adv. 尖锐地

retentive /rɪˈtentɪv/ adj. 记忆力强的

breast /brest/ n. 胸部

keen /ki:n/ adj. 强烈的，浓厚的

reputation /ˌrepjʊˈteɪʃən/ n. 名誉

discretion /dɪˈskreʃən/ n. 慎重

attentive /əˈtentɪv/ adj. 注意的，专心的，留意的

episode /ˈepɪsəʊd/ n. 插曲

embarrassment /ɪmˈb æ rəsmənt/ n. 尴尬

identify / a ɪˈdentɪf a ɪ/ vt. 识别

initiate /ɪˈnɪʃɪeɪt/ vt. 开始，接纳，吸收

indignation /ˌɪndɪ ɡ ˈneɪʃən/ n. 愤怒

undoubtedly /ʌnˈd a ʊtɪdlɪ/ adv. 无疑地

toned /təʊnd/ adj. 有声调的

resolute /ˈrezəlju:t/ adj. 坚决的

stock /stɒk/ n. 世系，家世

restrain /rɪˈstreɪn/ vt. 抑制

mighty /ˈm a ɪtɪ/ adj. 有势力的

ally /ˈ æ l a ɪ/ vt. 联盟

aristocrat /ˈ æ rɪstəkr æ t/ n. 贵族

justify /ˈdʒʌstɪf a ɪ/ vt. 证明

failing /ˈfeɪlɪŋ/ n. 失败

confidenc /ˈkɒnfɪdəns/ n. 信心

somehow /ˈsʌmh a ʊ/ adv. 在某种程度上

extreme /ɪkˈstri:m/ adj. 极端的

decency /ˈdi:sənsɪ/ n. 正派，得体

dignity /ˈdɪ ɡ nətɪ/ n. 尊严

caution /ˈkɔ:ʃən/ n. 条款

bold /bəʊld/ adj. 大胆的

widow /ˈwɪdəʊ/ n. 寡妇

fearlessly /ˈfɪəlɪslɪ/ adv. 无畏地

entertain /ˌentəˈteɪn/ vt. 招待，款待

affluenc /ˈ æ flʊəns/n. 富裕

excessively /ɪkˈsesɪvlɪ/ adv. 过度地

thrifty /ˈθrɪftɪ/ adj. 节俭的

redeem /rɪˈdi:m/ vt. 弥补，补救

critic /ˈkrɪtɪk/ n. 批评家

heighten /ˈh a ɪtən/ vt. 增高

gravity /ˈɡr æ vətɪ/ n. 严重，严峻

bosom /ˈbʊzəm/ n. 胸部

accustomed /əˈkʌstəmd/ adj. 习惯的

awful /ˈɔ:fʊl/ adj. 可怕的

brute /bru:t/ n. 畜生

bolt /bəʊlt/ vi. 逃跑

desperately /ˈdespərətlɪ/ adv. 强烈地

parade / pəˈreɪd/ vi. 招摇过市

stir /stɜ:/ n. 搅动，骚动

obligated /ˈɒblɪ ɡ eɪtɪd/ adj. 有责任的，有义务的

decisive /dɪˈs a ɪsɪv/ adj. 决定性的

proclaim /prəˈkleɪm/ vt. 宣布

peculiar /pɪˈkju:lɪə/ adj. 奇特的，异常的

motive /ˈməʊtɪv/ n. 动机

faint /feɪnt/ adj. 微弱的

implication /ˌɪmplɪˈkeɪʃən/ n. 含意，暗示

delicacy /ˈdelɪkəsɪ/ n. 精致，纤细

tone /təʊn/ n. 声调

rosy /ˈrəʊzɪ/ adj. 红润的，红粉色的

radiant /ˈreɪdɪənt/ adj. （指人、人的眼睛等）容光焕发的，喜形于色的

confidently /ˈkɒnfɪdəntlɪ/ adv. 自信地

reflectivel /rɪˈflektɪvlɪ/adv. 沉思地

invariably /ɪnˈveərɪəblɪ/ adv. 不变化地

annual /ˈ æ njʊəl/ adj. 一年一度的

emphasize /ˈemfəs a ɪz/ vt. 强调

superiority /sju:ˌpɪərɪˈɒrətɪ/ n. 优越

household /ˈh a ʊshəʊld/ adj. 家庭的

staff /stɑ:f/ n. 全体职员

competent /ˈkɒmpɪtənt/ adj. 能干的

absence /ˈ æ bsəns/ n. 缺席

ballroom /ˈbɔ:lrʊm/ n. 舞厅

compensate /ˈkɒmpenseɪt/ vi. 补偿

penniless /ˈpenɪlɪs/ adj. 一文不名的，穷困的

imprudent /ɪmˈpru:dənt/ adj. 轻率的

hospitable /ˈhɒspɪtəbl/ adj. 好客的

witty /ˈwɪtɪ/ adj. 机智的，诙谐的

speedily /ˈspiːdəlɪ/ adv. 快速地

dissipated /ˈdɪsɪpeɪtɪd/ adj. 沉迷于酒色的

ignorance /ˈɪ ɡ nərəns/ n. 无知

distinguished /dɪsˈtɪŋ ɡ wɪʃt/ adj. 卓著的

miracle /ˈmɪrəkl/ n. 奇迹

accomplish /əˈkʌmplɪʃ/ vt. 完成

idol /ˈ a ɪdəl/ n. 偶像

chef /ʃef/ n. 主厨

dictate /dɪkˈteɪt/ vt. 口述

domestic /dəʊˈmestɪk/ adj. 家庭的

stroll /strəʊl/ vi. 漫步，闲逛

detachment /dɪˈt æ tʃmənt/ n. 冷静，超然

rumor /ˈru:mə/ n. 谣言

resident /ˈrezɪdənt/ n. 居民

boldly /ˈbəʊldlɪ/ adv. 大胆地

squeeze /skwi:z/ vi. 推挤

solemnly /ˈsɒləmlɪ/ adv. 严肃地

series /ˈsɪəri:z/ n. 系列

somewhat /ˈsʌmhwɒt/ adv. 略微

avenue /ˈ æ vɪnju:/ n. 大街

definitel /ˈdefɪnɪtlɪ/ adv. 一定

perceive /pəˈsi:v/ vt. 感觉，察觉，明目

grave /ɡreɪv/ adj. 严重的

glide /ɡl a ɪd/ vi. 滑动

threshold /ˈθreʃhəʊld/ n. 门槛

clasp /klɑ:sp/ vi. 扣紧

shed /ʃed/ vt. 流露

qualifie /ˈkwɒlɪf a ɪd/ adj. 合格的

reluctance /rɪˈlʌktəns/ n. 不愿

privacy /ˈprɪvəsɪ/ n. 隐私

blur /blɜ:/ vi. 沾上污迹，变模糊

essence /ˈesəns/ n. 本质

appeal /əˈpi:l/ n. 恳求，申诉

necessity /nɪˈsesətɪ/ n. 需要

ideal / a ɪˈdɪəl/ adj. 理想的

indescribable /ˌɪndɪˈskr a ɪbəbl/ adj. 不能用语言表达的

vision /ˈvɪʒən/ n. 幻象

radiance /ˈreɪdɪəns/ n. 容光焕发

conservatory /kənˈsɜ:vətrɪ/ n. 温室

comprehendingly /kɒmprɪˈhendɪŋlɪ/ adv. 会意地

bliss /blɪs/ n. 巨大的幸福，极乐

gaily /ˈ ɡ eɪlɪ/ adv. 高兴地

rouse /r a ʊz/ vt. 唤醒

unshakable /ˌʌnˈʃeɪkəbl/ adj. 无法改变的

disgust /dɪsˈ ɡ ʌst/ n. 厌恶

hastily /ˈheɪstɪlɪ/ adv. 匆忙地

resolved /rɪˈzɒlvd/ adj. 下定决心的

ponder /ˈpɒndə/ vi. 沉思

angel /ˈeɪndʒəl/ n. 天使

trifl /ˈtr a ɪfl/n. 稍微，有点儿

apprehensively /ˌ æ prɪˈhensɪvlɪ/adv. 惴惴不安地

echo /ˈekəʊ/ vt. 重复，发出回声

alternative /ɔ:lˈtɜ:nətɪv/ adj. 可供替代的

awfully /ˈɔ:fʊlɪ/ adv. 非常

utmost /ˈʌtməʊst/ adj. 极限的

ritual /ˈrɪtjʊəl/ n. 仪式

ignore /ɪ ɡ ˈnɔ:/ vt. 不理睬

reflec /rɪˈflekt/vt. 思索

conscious /ˈkɒnʃəs/ adj. 有意识的 R5yWbZn1W+AN4zCZXnOtHvZPozqVggkMBUihdhzEQALyuZxxeIobdIKGGvz+PsNi