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"Noit would cost money."
ONE:Chapter 10"My name is John Ball, and I have been the son of a bondman, insulting craven," replied the father, indignantly;"but I owe the Baron de Boteler no allegianceyou well know that the priest can be servant to none save he who created the bond and the free."
TWO: 更多 »
TWO:"Look'ee, mother, I've something to tell you. I've a plan in my head, and it'll justabout mean being shut of[Pg 30] a lot of things besides chocolate. I know f?ather dudn't care much about the farm, about m?aking it grow and buying more land, and all that. But I do. I mean to buy the whole of Boarzell."
TWO:Chapter 17
TWO:"It can't be done," said the young man in the open-work socks"it can't be done. And why should we want to do it?is not Nature the Mother and Nurse of[Pg 459] us all?and is it not best for us simply to lie on her bosom and trust her for our welfare?"It was all rather ugly and ridiculous, and as before at Mockbeggar, the crowd began to straggle. This time there was no public-house to swallow up strays, but the marsh spread far and wide, a Land of Promise for lovers, who began to slink off two by two into the mists. Some who were not lovers formed themselves into noisy groups, and bumped about the laneswaking the farmers' wives from Bosney to Marsh Quarter.
TWO:"Christian men," returned the dusty-foot, good-humouredly, "would be suffocated in this poisonous air you breathe, and would die, like the heathen, without benefit of clergy."
TWO:"Well, it would never have done if the old man had got to know of it. Good heavens, Tilly! How can you live on with that old brute?"On the whole, the most unsatisfactory of Reuben's sons was Albert. Richard might be more irritating, but Albert had that knack of public sinning which gives a certain spectacular offensiveness to the most trivial faults. Any trouble between Reuben and his eldest son invariably spread itself into the gossip of ten farms; the covert misdoings of and private reckonings with the other boys gave place to tempestuous scandals, windy stormings, in which Albert contrived to grab the general sympathy, and give a decorative impression of martyrdom.
TWO:"My friend," said Manlove; "it matters little now whether you agree with your brethren or not, the woman is at this moment dying! The verdict is, therefore, of little moment to hershe can never be brought into court to receive judgmentguilty or innocent, the law can have nothing to do with her; but I would advise you to look to yourself, you will not be released till she is dead. Your brethren are accustomed to fasting, but you look ready to drop from your seat: and, if the woman linger many hours, you will certainly be guilty of felo de se."There were little pots of cream and bottles of hair-lotion, there were ebony-backed brushes, patent leather shoes, kid gloves, all sorts of marvels which Caro had seen nowhere but in shops. As she unpacked she felt a kind of soreness in her heart. Why should Rose have all these beautiful things, these laces, these perfumes, these silks and ribbons, while Caro wore nothing but stuff and calico or smelt of anything sweeter than milk? As she glanced at Rose, leaning back in the most comfortable chair to be found in that uncomfortable roomthe firelight dancing on the silken ripples of her gown, her neck and arms gleaming through clouds of lacethe soreness woke into a pain. Rose had something more even than silks and laces. She had love. It was love that made her hold her chin so proudly, it was love that made her cheeks flush and her eyes glow. And no one had ever loved Caroshe had never heard a man's voice in tenderness, or felt even so much as a man's hand fondle hers....
TWO:
TWO:"Wished my farm wur in hell, dud he? He cursed my farm, dud he? The young whelp!"

[育儿宝典]
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"Rose!"As time wore on, and her hopes were once more roused, she became quite obsessed by the idea of having a girl. She thought of nothing but the little frocks, the ribbons with which she would tie the pretty hair. She pictured the times she and her daughter would have together, the confidences they would exchangefor old Mrs. Backfield grew more and more silent and unreceptive, and her neighbours were not of her mould. They would tell each other everything ... she had dreams of an impossible little pink-and-white girl like a doll, with golden curls and blue eyes and a white muslin frock. In her dreams she would stretch out her arms to this ached-for child, and would wake sobbing, with the tears running down her face."Money fur Bardon."BOOK I. CHAPTER I.
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