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(单词翻译)
文本:
S- Sylvia Satterthwaite
M- Sylvia's mother
S: Think of all the ruin that child has meant for me. And Christopher's perfectly1 soppy about it.
M: You don't deserve your husband, anyway. I can't imagine why he sent that telegram. Resume yoke2, indeed!
S: He sent it out of lordly, dull, full-dress consideration that drives me distracted. He couldn't write me a letter, because he'd have to put "Dear Sylvia" - and I'm not. He's that precise sort of imbecile. I'll settle down by his side and I'll be chaste3. I've made up my mind to it. I'll be bored stiff for the rest of my life, except for one thing - I can torment4 that man and I'll do it, for all the times he's tormented5 me.
S: I've come from Normandy without sleep, you see. Oh! I'll tell them downstairs to simply telegraph Christopher, "Righto".
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