Chapter 29 Chapter Eighteen (Part 1)

"Hey," Justine said to her mother, "I've decided what I'm going to do." "I think it's already decided. To study art at the University of Sydney, isn't it?" "Oh, that was just bait to give you the illusion of a secret while I was working out my plans. But now that it's all sorted, I can tell you." Meggie looked up from her work—she was making fir-tree cookies out of dough; they were helping in the kitchen when Mrs. Smith was sick.She thought she was just tired, impatient, and not knowing what to do.What could one do with someone like Justine?Had she claimed that she was going to Sydney to learn to be a prostitute, Meggie wondered if she would be able to change her mind, goodness, terrible Justine, the best of all destroying forces.

"Go on, I'm eager to hear." She said, and lowered her head to make cookies again. "I'm going to be an actor." "When what?" "actor." "Good heavens!" The fir-cake was thrown aside again. "Hey, Justine, I hate being a spoiler, and I really don't want to hurt your feelings, but do you think you—well, have what it takes physically to be an actress?" "Oh, Mom!" Justine said in disgust. "I'm not a movie star; I'm an actress; I don't want to wriggle my ass, puff my breasts, and pout my nasty lips. I want to be artistic." Skim chunks of beef pushed into the bacon bucket. "No matter what training I choose, I've got enough money, right?"

"Yes, thanks to Cardinal de Bricassart." "Then it's settled. I'm going to learn acting from Albert Jones at the Crollton Theatre, and I've written to the Royal Academy of Art. It's the art school in London. I want to be listed. on the waiting list." "Are you sure, Jussie?" "Pretty sure. They've known me a long time." The last of the damn beef was stuffed into the bacon bucket; Justine slammed the lid on the bucket. "Oh! I hope I never see a piece of corned beef again as long as I live." Meggie handed her a tray full of cookies. "Put this in the oven, please? Bake it to 400 degrees. I gotta say, they're going to turn into something amazing. I think the little girls who wanna be actors are always acting endlessly playing various roles, but the only person I've seen you play is yourself."

"Oh Mom, here you go again, you're always confusing movie stars with actors, and honestly, you're hopeless." "Oh, isn't a movie star an actor?" "A very bad kind of actor. They're not good actors unless they've acted on stage first. I mean, even Laurence Olivier makes a picture once in a while." There was an autographed photograph of Laurence Olivier on Justine's dressing table; Meggie simply saw that year as a teenage obsession, though now she remembered that she had thought of Justine Ting is at least interested in this.Sometimes she brought it to the house, where she lived with several big friends who often treasured pictures of Taber Hunter and Lori Callahorn.

"I still don't understand," said Meggie, shaking her head. "actor!" Justine shrugged. "Oh, where else can I laugh, shout, and cry but on stage? I'm not allowed to do that here, at school, or anywhere! I love to laugh, shout, and cry, Oh shit!" "But you're talented in art, Jussie! Why not be a painter?" Meggie insisted. Justine turned away from the big gas stove and tapped her fingers on the gauge of the gas tank. "I'll have to tell the kitchen hand to change the gas bottle; the pressure is too low. It's a good day, though." The pale eyes looked at Meggie with pity. "Mom, you're so unrealistic, really. I think it's going to come across as the kind of kid who doesn't really think about life's path. I'm telling you, I don't want to starve to death in an attic, after I die. I'm famous all over the world. I want to enjoy a little fame and financial well-being while I'm alive. So I'm going to take up painting as a hobby, as a means of earning a living. How about it?"

"You've got an income on Drogheda, Jussie," Meggie said desperately, breaking her vow of silence no matter what happened. "There's no such thing as dying of starvation in an attic. If you want to paint, it's all right. You can paint." Justine was alert, interested. "Mom, how much income do I have?" "It's enough for you, if you like, without any work at all." "How annoying! I'm going to spend my life talking on the phone and playing bridge, at least most of the mothers of my friends at school are. Because I want to live in Sydney, not Drogheda. I like Sydney better than Drogheda." There was a gleam of hope in her eyes. "Do I have enough money for the new electrotherapy to get rid of my freckles?"

"I think so. But why?" "Because then someone will look at my face, that's why." "I thought looks didn't matter to an actor." "It couldn't be more important. My freckles are a pain." "Are you sure you don't want to be a painter?" "Pretty sure, thank you." She did a dance move. "I'm going to be an actress, Mrs. Worthington!" "How did you manage to get into the Carrollton Theatre?" "I auditioned." "They accepted you?" "Mom, your confidence in your daughter is so sad. Of course they took me! You know, I'm doing a great job. Someday I'll be famous."

Meggie whipped the greens into a bowl of battered icing and sprinkled them finely over the already baked fir tree cakes. "Justine, is this important to you? Famous?" "I should say so." She sprinkled the sugar on top of the cream, which was so soft that it had melted to the sides of the bowl; the kitchen was still hot, even though some stoves had been replaced with gas stoves. "I've made up my mind to be famous." "Don't you want to get married?" Justine looked contemptuous. "It's impossible! Crying and wiping away my tears, spending my life like a beggar? Do you bow your head to a man who is half as good as me but thinks he's good? Ha, ha, ha, I don't what to do!"

"Honestly, you're a fool! Where did you learn all this stuff?" Justine began to beat the eggs quickly with one hand, deftly breaking them into a basin. "From my one-of-a-kind girls' school, of course." She beat the eggs relentlessly with a French whisk. "We're a pretty decent bunch of girls actually. Very cultured. Not every girl appreciates the Latin limerick: Pooh came with a Roman guest, His shirt is made of iridium, Ask him why he wears this, replied: "Idest Bonum san guinem praesidium. " Meggie curled her lips slightly. "I'd hate myself for asking you, but what was that Roman talking about?"

"This is a fox suit." "That's it? I thought it sounded much worse. You astonish me. But, my dear girl, talk about what we've just said, though you try to change the subject. What's wrong with being married?" " Justine imitated her grandmother's rare mocking nose laugh. "Mom! Really! I gotta say, that's a good question for you to ask." Meggie felt the blood rushing under her skin, and she looked down at the plate full of green fir biscuits. "Even though you're 17, don't be so rude." "Is there anything strange?" Justine asked, looking at the egg scrambler bowl. "A man becomes disrespectful the moment he ventures into territory guarded by his parents from prying eyes. As I said just now: that's the right question for you to ask. Exactly. Humph." I don't need to imply that you're a loser, or a sinner, or worse. In fact, I think you've shown an amazing notion that you don't need your husband. What do you need a husband for? ?There are tons and tons of men and uncles influencing your kids and you have enough money to live on. I agree with you! Those girls need to get married."

"You are exactly like your father!" "Another excuse. Whenever I piss you off, I become exactly like my father, well, since I've never met that gentleman, I have to take your word for it." "When are you leaving?" Meggie asked desperately. Justine grinned, "Can't wait to get rid of me? Well, Mom, I don't blame you at all. It's not that I can't help it, I just love surprising everyone, especially you." How about taking me to the airport tomorrow?" "Go the day after tomorrow. I'm taking you to the bank tomorrow. You better know how much money you've got. And, Justine..." Justine was spreading the dough and mixing it skillfully.Hearing her mother's voice change, she looked up. "how?" "If you're in trouble, come home. We've got a house for you on Drogheda forever, and I want you to remember that. There's nothing worse than being homeless." Justine's eyes softened. "Thanks, Mom, so you're not a deadpan, bad old elm bump, are you?" "Old?" Meggie gasped. "I'm not old, I'm only 43 years old." "My God. Is it that big?" Meggie flung a cookie.Hit Justine on the nose. "Oh, you little rascal!" she laughed. "What the hell are you! Now I feel like a centenarian." The daughter grinned. At this moment, Fei walked into the kitchen and saw the scene in the kitchen just now.Relieved, Meggie greeted her. "Mom, do you know what Justine just told me?" Fee didn't look up at anything except running the accounts as best she could, but was as sensitive as ever to what was going on in the minds of her pretentious students. "How do I know what Justine just told you?" She interjected softly, looking at the green cookies and shrugging her shoulders slightly. "Because sometimes I get the impression that you and Justine keep some little secrets from me, but now, my daughter has told me all the news, and you walk in and you don't know what to say." "Well—at least these cookies taste better than they look," commented Fee, nibbling a bit. "I assure you, Meggie, I didn't push your daughter to join me in plotting behind your back. Justine, what did you do to break someone else's plan?" She turned to where she was pouring the loose mixture into Canada. asked Justine from the jar of butter and flour. "I told my mother I was going to be an actress, grandma, that's all." "Is that what it is? Is it the truth, or is it a vague joke?" "Oh, it's true, I'm starting work at the Colloughton Theatre." "Oh, oh, oh!" said Fee, leaning on the table and looking at her daughter mockingly. "Meggie, isn't it amazing how kids have their own minds?" Meggie didn't answer. "Grandma, do you agree?" Justine yelled, ready to argue. "Me? Agree? How you live is none of my business, Justine. Besides, I think you'd make a good actor." "You think so?" Meggie gasped. "Of course she will," Fee said. "Justine isn't one to make unwise choices, is she, my girl?" "Yes." Justine grinned, brushing a lock of curly hair away from her eyes.Meggie looked at her and felt that her grandmother had a kind of fondness for her mother that she had never shown. "You're a good girl, Justine," Fee said, laying out the cookies without emotion, arranging them. "There's nothing wrong with that, but I wish my face had white meringue on it." "You can't make fir biscuits into meringue," Meggie objected. "If you make fir tree cakes, of course you can; the topping is snow," said her mother. "It's too late now, they're a sickly green." Justine laughed. "Justine!" "Oh! I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to offend you. I always forget you have a weak stomach." "I don't have a weak stomach," said Meggie exasperatedly. "I'm here to see if I can get a cup of tea." Fee broke in.She pulled out a chair and sat down.Yes, put the kettle on. "Justine, fine." Meggie sat down too. "Mom, do you really think this plan will work for Justine?" he asked eagerly. "Why doesn't it work?" Fee replied, watching her granddaughter serve the tea. "It may have been a passing pleasure." "Justine, are you happy?" Fee asked. "No." Justine said succinctly, and put the cup and tea tray on the old green desk. "Put the biscuits on a plate, Justine, not out of the biscuit tin," Meggie said mechanically. "Have mercy, don't pour the whole can of milk on the table, pour some in the tea tin." "Yes, Mom, I'm sorry, Mom," Justine replied, just as mechanically. "I can't do anything with the women in the kitchen. All I can do is get the leftovers from where they come from and take them back somewhere, and wash out the remaining twenty or thirty dishes." "Do as you are told; it will be much better that way." "Go back to that subject," Fee continued. "I don't think there's anything negotiable about it. My opinion is that Justine should give it a try, and it might work just fine." "I wish I knew better," said Meggie sullenly. "Justine, have you ever thought of being famous?" Grandma asked. "I really think about it." Justine said, defiantly putting the old brown kitchen teapot on the table, and hurriedly sat down. "Don't complain, Ma; I won't have a silver kettle in the kitchen for tea, it's the last.? "The pot of tea is coming home." Meggie smiled. "Oh, that's nice! There's nothing like a good cup of tea." Fee sighed, taking a sip of tea. "Justine, why do you have to tell your mother such a bad thing? You know, it's not a matter of fame and fortune, it's a matter of nature, right?" "Nature, grandma?" "Of course it is. Acting is what you think you're going to do, isn't it?" "right." "Then why not explain it to your mother in this way? Why upset Goodbye with some flippant nonsense?" Justine shrugged, drank the tea in one gulp, pushed the empty cup in front of her mother, and asked for more tea. "I don't know," she said. "I-don't-know." Fee corrected her pronunciation. "I'm sure you'll be able to pronounce clearly on stage. It's just in your nature that you want to be a member, isn't it?" "I think so," Justine replied reluctantly. "Oh, a stubborn and stupid Cleary pride! Justine, that will be your downfall, too, unless you learn to control it. A stupidity that fears being laughed at, or ridiculed." fear. Although I don't know why you think your mother is cold-hearted." She patted Justine on the back. "Give in, Justine, and cooperate." However, Justine shook her head and said, "I can't." Fee sighed. "Well, I wish you all the best, boy, and you will have my blessing for your cause." "Thanks, Granny, I appreciate you." Sniffing morosely, eyes bulging, utterly contemptuous of Australia and Aussies, though she still tries to rip them off.Her chief concern in life seemed to be the cost of gas and electricity, and her chief weakness was her inability to resist Justine's next-door neighbor, an English lad who would gladly offer his nationality to her. "I don't mind cheering up this old baby once in a while while we're talking," he told Justine. "You know, she's so anxious about me, she can't figure it out. You girls aren't allowed to use electric heaters even in winter, but she gave me one, and I can use it in summer if I like." "Slut," Justine said calmly. His name was Peter Wilkins, and he was a wandering seaman. "Please, I'll get you some good tea sometime," he called after her, admiring those pale, charming eyes. Zhu Xianting came to him for tea, but carefully chose a time when Mrs. Dewan would not be secretly jealous, and was comfortable with fending off Peter.Years of riding and working in Drogheda had given her a considerable increase in strength.She didn't care if she had to punch the part under the belt. "Damn you, Justine!" gasped Peter, wiping the tears from his sore eyes. "Surrender, girl! You're going to lose it one day, you know! It's not Victorian England, and you can't expect to keep it till you get married." "I didn't intend to keep it until the wedding," she replied, straightening her dress. "I'm just not yet sure who's going to get the honor, that's all." "You have nothing to brag about!" he said angrily; it really hurt her feelings. "Yeah, I'm no big deal. You can say anything, Petty. You can't hurt me with your words. There aren't many virgins, but there are plenty of men who want to fuck." Peter's nickname. -- Annotation "There are plenty of women like that! Just look at the nice apartment up front." "Then please go to Uncle Frank, tell him there is tea in the kitchen, and show your gratitude with concrete actions." Justine left, Meggie stared at Fei alone. "Mom, you're amazing, really." Fee smiled. "Oh, you have to admit, I've never been trying to tell any of my kids what to do." "No, never," Meggie said softly. "We appreciate that too." The first thing Justine did when she got back to Sydney was to get her freckles removed.Unfortunately, it wasn't a quick process; it took her about 12 months, after which she had to stay out of the sun for the rest of her life.The thing is that freckles will want to go and come back.The second thing she did was find a room for herself. At a time when people were building private houses and living together in apartment complexes was considered a curse, finding a house was a big deal in Sydney .But she finally found a two-room apartment in Neutral Bay, in a decaying Victorian building on the old, huge waterfront that had been converted into a lot of dingy The rent for a semi-open room is £5 10 shillings a week.It is intolerable that the bathroom and the kitchen are shared by all the tenants.but.Justine was quite satisfied.Although she is well-trained in housekeeping, she still lacks the instincts of a housewife. Living at Pottswell Gardens was more fascinating than her apprenticeship at the Corollton Theatre.Life in the theater seemed to consist of hiding behind props and sets, watching other people rehearse plays, occasionally playing tricks, and memorizing reams of Shakespeare, Shaw, and Sheridan. ① Richard Brinsted Sheridan (1751-1816), a British playwright and political activist. -- Annotation Including Justine's apartment, there were six apartments in Botswell Gardens, including the one owned by the landlady, Mrs. Diwan.Mrs Diwan is a 65-year-old Londoner who always... "Oh, I see, I see," Justine said. The two girls in the front apartment were gay, and they rejoiced in Justine's presence, only to realize later that not only was she not interested, she hadn't even been having an affair.At first, she was not very sure about their hints, but when they made it clear, she shrugged her shoulders and did not move, so that after a period of adaptation, she resonated with them, Neutral confidante girlfriend, safe haven in times of crisis; she once bailed Billie out of jail; At that time, she took Bobby to Mart Hospital for gastric lavage.She felt that this was indeed a dangerous love life.Men are bad enough, but their flavors are not substantially different. So she was as well known at the Corollton Theatre, Pottswell Gardens, and the girls as she had been at Jinglebo, and Justine made many friends, all of them dear friends.When they confided their troubles to her, she never told her troubles; she only told Dane about her troubles, though admitting a little distress did not seem to hurt her. .What fascinated her friends most about her was her remarkable self-control; it was as if she had trained herself from childhood not to allow circumstances to affect her physical and mental health. The main interest of everyone who was called a friend was to see how, when, and who in the end Justine decided would make her a complete woman, but she took her time. Arthur Lestrange was the oldest teenage lead actor in Mrs. Albert Jones' town, although he had sadly bid farewell to his forty years before Justine arrived at the Crollton Theatre. birthday.He's in great shape and is a composed, dependable actor.His chiseled, manly face and thick yellow curly hair always wowed the audience.During the first year, he didn't notice Justine, who was taciturn and meticulously followed orders.But at the end of the year, when her freckle treatment was over, she began to stand out from the set props, rather than blending in and out of sight. After the freckles were removed, and the black eyebrows and eyelashes painted on, she became a handsome girl with an elf-like, hidden demeanor.She had neither the striking beauty of Luke O'Neill nor the grace and grace of her mother.Her figure is not amazing, but it is passable, just a little thin, but the bright red hair is very eye-catching.On the stage, however, she was different; she could be thought beautiful as Helen of Troy, or as ugly as a witch. Arthur had first noticed her during a teaching session, when she was asked to recite a line from Conrad's "Lord Jim" in different tones.She recited really well!He could feel the excitement in Albert Jones, and finally understand why Gore spent so much time with her so intently.She's a natural imitator, but it's more than that; she brings character to every word she utters.And that voice has that extraordinary quality of any male actor, deep, husky, penetrating. ① Joseph Conrad (1857-1924) was a British novelist originally from Poland.Most of the works are based on the theme of sea life. -- Annotation Therefore, when he saw her holding a cup of tea and sitting there with a book on her lap, he walked over and sat beside her. "What are you reading?" She raised her head and smiled, "A book by Proust." ① Marcel Proust (1871-1922) was a French novelist who was good at writing about the subconscious beyond the concept of time and space. -- Annotation "Don't you think it's kind of boring with him? Of course not, unless a guy isn't interested in gossip, you know. He's an old gossip guy." He was uncomfortably sure that she was watching him with her intelligence, but he forgave her.Just a young man who likes to go to extremes. "I've heard you read Conrad's play. Excellent." "thanks." "Maybe we can have coffee together now and then and discuss your plans." "If you like," she said, looking down at Proust again. He would rather ask for coffee than dinner; his wife was never enough to satisfy him, but he wasn't quite sure whether asking Justine to dinner would make her appreciate it.However, he insisted on honoring his informal invitation, and took her to a dark and small place in the lower Elizabeth Street, confident that his wife would not find a place to come. Justine had learned to smoke out of self-defense, and she was tired of always sternly refusing cigarettes offered.After sitting down, she took out her own cigarettes from the bag. It was an unopened pack of cigarettes. She carefully peeled off the cellophane on the top, so that the larger cellophane still wrapped the lower part of the pack.Arthur was amused and interested to see her cautious manner. "Why bother? Rip it all off, Justine" "That's so untidy!" He picked up the cigarette case and tapped the full coat thoughtfully. "If I were now a disciple of the famous Sigmund Freud①..." ①Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), a famous Austrian psychologist and psychiatrist , the founder of psychoanalysis--Annotation "So what if you're a disciple of Freud?" She glanced and saw the waitress standing beside her. It annoyed him that she only ordered one for herself, but he let that go, preferring to hold on to the idea in his head. "A black coffee, please. Now let's go back to Freud I was talking about. I don't know what he would think about it? He might say..." She took the cigarette case from his hand, opened it, took out a cigarette, and before he could find a match, she lit a cigarette for herself. "Say what?" "He'd think you'd rather keep the membranous intact, wouldn't he?" Her giggles cut through the smoky air, and the men turned their heads inexplicably. "Would he say that? Arthur, if I'm still a virgin, are you going to ask me in circles like this?" His tongue clicked angrily. "Justine! I think I've got to teach you the art of prevarication in some other stuff." "On what matters, Arthur?" She leaned her elbows on the table, her eyes shining in the gloom. "Well, what do you need to learn?" "You're actually quite well educated." "On everything?" "God, you know how to emphasize your words, don't you? Very well, I'll remember how you said that." "Some things can only be learned through direct experience," he said gently, reaching out to tuck a lock of her curly hair behind her ear. "Really? I always thought observation was enough." "Ah, so what if it involves love?" He said the word in a soft, deep voice. "If you don't know love, how can you play Juliet well?" ①The protagonist in Shakespeare's famous play "Romeo and Juliet",--Annotation "Well said. I agree with you." "Have you ever been in love before?" "No." "What do you know about love?" The word "what" is stronger than "love" this time. "Not at all." "Ah! Then Freud was right, wasn't he?" She picked up the cigarette case, looked at its cover, and smiled. "In some things, maybe right." He quickly grabbed the bottom of the cellophane sleeve, pulled it off, put it in his hands, crumpled it up dramatically, and threw it into the ashtray, where the sleeve creaked and twisted , Stretching days to come. "If I could, I would teach you how to be a real woman." For a while she said nothing, staring intently at the ridiculously wriggling cellophane in the ashtray; then she struck a match and lit it carefully. "Yes, why not?" "Will it be a wonderful thing, full of moonlight and roses and ardent pursuit, or something short and sharp, like an arrow?" She laughed. "Really, Arthur! I wish it long and sharp myself, but no moonshine and no roses, please. My appetite is not for ardent pursuits." He stared at her a little arrogantly and shook his head. "Oh, Justine! Everyone's appetite is for hot pursuit -- even you, you cold-hearted, young virgin. Someday, you'll see, you'll crave got it." "Bah!" She stood up. "Come on, Arthur, let's get going and get it done before I change my mind." "Now? Tonight?" "What's wrong with that? If you're short on money, I've brought enough money to rent a hotel room." The Metropole Hotel is not far away!They crossed the silent street, her arm carefully wrapped around his, laughing.It was too late to go to a restaurant for dinner, and it was too early to leave the theater, so there were only a few people around, only a small group of sailors from an American task force who stayed here, and some people who looked at the windows. The young girl, who glanced now and then at the sailors, paid no attention to them, which played in Arthur's favor.He hurried into a pharmacy, and Justine waited outside, her face beaming with joy. "It's all right now, darling." "What did you buy? A condom?" He made a grimace. "I hope not. Using a condom is like wrapping a Reader's Digest paper--it's sticky. No, I bought you some jelly. Anyway, how do you know about contraception set?" "Didn't I go to a Catholic boarding school for seven years? What do you think we do there? Pray?" She grinned. "I admit we're not overdoing it, but we talk about everything." Mr and Mrs Smith guarded their property closely, not a bad thing for a Sydney hotel room of the era.The era of the Hilton Hotel has yet to come.The house is very large with stunning views of the Sydney Harbor Bridge.There was no bathroom, of course, but there was a bidet and a jug on top of a marble bench, matching the massive Victorian furniture. ①A famous modern joint hotel in the United States. -- Annotation "Hey, what do I do now?" she asked, drawing the curtains. "The view is beautiful, isn't it?" "Yes. As for what you do now. Of course, you have to calm down your heartbeat." "What else?" He sighed. "Take it all off, Justine! If you don't feel skin to skin and flesh to flesh, it's not very exciting." She took off her clothes nimbly and briskly, and climbed onto the bed without being shoved and pushed... For many years, Justine had been much closer to Dane than she was to her mother, and their affection for her mother was the closest to their mother's, and this did not interfere with or conflict with their relationship.The relationship builds up early and grows, not diminishes.By the time Mother was released from Drogheda's servitude, they were old enough to sit at Mrs. Smith's kitchen table and do their homework accordingly; by the time they had developed a habit of seeking each other's comfort . In spite of their disparate personalities, they also had many interests and inclinations in common; those who did not share interests and inclinations were mutually understood with an instinctive respect which was the necessary reconciliation to bridge the differences.They do know each other very well.Hers was inclined to lament the foibles of others, but not to see her own;She thought she was extremely strong, and she thought she was extremely weak. All these things somehow form an almost perfect friendship, the exact name of which is impossible to find.But ever since she became articulate, Dane had to always listen to her talk about herself and her feelings, not the other way around.In some respects she was a little low on right and wrong, so there was nothing sacrosanct about her, and he understood that his role was to point out to her those moral scruples that she herself lacked.He therefore settled himself in the position of the submissive listener with the tenderness and compassion which would have greatly annoyed Justine and aroused her suspicions.But she wasn't suspicious.Ever since he was old enough to care about the world, she had whispered everything without reserve. "Guess what I did last night?" she asked, carefully straightening her straw hat so that it completely covered her face and neck. "Play a compelling role," Dane said. "Big fool! As if you don't understand until I tell you. Guess." "Turned out Poppy and Belle who were quarreling like hell." "What a disappointment." He shrugged, annoyed. "I can't touch it at all." They were sitting on Domino Meadow below the high Gothic church of Santa Maria.Dane called in advance to inform Justine that he was coming here for a special service in the church.Asked her if she could meet him at the Dome first.Of course she could; was she anxious to update him? ①The abbreviation of Domin. -- Annotation. 他在里佛缪学校的最后一年已快结束了，戴恩是这个学校的学生头，板球队的队长，以及橄榄球队、手球队和网球队的队长，此外，还是他那个班的班长。17岁时，他身高六英尺七英寸①，他的声音已经最后变成男中音，并令人不可思议地躲过了粉刺、笨拙和亚当苹果诱惑的苦季。由于他肤色白净，所以他实际上还没有刮过脸，但是不论从哪方面看，与其说他象一个男学生，毋宁说他象个年轻男子。只有里佛缪学校的校服才表明了他的身份。 ①约合1.89米。 那是一个温暖的、充满阳光的日子。戴恩将学校的硬草帽摘了下来，四仰八叉地躺在在草地上。朱丝婷倦坐在那里，双臂抱着膝盖，把暴露的皮肤全部遮了起来。他懒洋洋的睁开一只蓝色的眼睛，看了看她那个方向。 "昨天晚上你干么来着，朱丝①" ①对朱丝婷的爱称--译注