词汇:conversation

n. 会话;交谈;社交

相关场景

“Well, my lord,” he said, from time to time. “My lord.” An Indian boy had killed him, the Captain said. Deets was still wearing a pair of the old patchy quilt pants that he had favored for so long. Pea Eye scarcely knew what to think. He and Deets had been the main hired help on the Hat Creek outfit ever since there had been a Hat Creek outfit. Now it was down to him. It would mean a lot more chores for him, undoubtedly, for the Captain only trusted the two of them with certain chores. He remembered that he and Deets had had a pretty good conversation once. He had been vaguely planning to have another one with him if the chance came along. Of course that was off, now. Pea Eye went over and leaned against a wagon wheel, wishing he could stop feeling weak in the legs.
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“Well, I hope we get there before the rivers start icing,” Pea said. “I always worry about that thin ice.” With that he turned away, and the lengthy conversation was over.
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Deets finished trimming the horse’s hooves and wiped the sweat off his face with his shirtsleeve. Pea Eye stood silently nearby. Though the two of them had soldiered together for most of their fives, they had never really had a conversation.
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“Well, time’s changed us,” he said, feeling very uneasy in the conversation. Lorena was looking at him solemnly. He had had women look at him solemnly before and it always made him uncomfortable—it meant they were primed to detect any lies.
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“I notice you’ve taken a fancy to young Mr. Johnson,” Augustus said. “I expect if I did stay around he’d beat me out.” “He’s nearly as dull as Woodrow Call, but he’s nicer,” Clara said. “He’ll do what he’s told, mostly, and I’ve come to appreciate that quality in a man. I could never count on you to do what you’re told.” “So do you aim to marry him?” “No, that’s one of the things I’m through with,” Clara said. “Of course I ain’t quite—poor Bob ain’t dead. But if he passes away, I’m through with it.” Clara smiled. Augustus chuckled. “I hope you ain’t contemplating an irregular situation,” he said.Clara smiled. “What’s irregular about having a boarder?” she asked. “Lots of widows take boarders. Anyway, he likes my girls better than he likes me. He might be ready to marry again by the time Sally’s of age.” At that moment Sally was chattering away to young Newt, who was getting his first taste of conversation with a sprightly young lady.
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Newt, who had enjoyed the picnic mightily, fell into conversation with Sally and rode beside the wagon. Lorena didn’t seem concerned—she and Betsey had taken to one another at once, and were chatting happily.
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“Just hold him or give him to Miss Wood,” Clara said. “I can’t hold him and cook too.” Call, July and Cholo had walked off to the lots, for Call wanted to buy a few horses and anyway didn’t care to sit in a kitchen and try to make conversation.
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“Why, Sheriff Johnson,” Augustus said. “I guess, as they say, it’s a small world.” “Just to you, Gus, you’ve met everybody in it now, I’m sure,” Clara said. She glanced at July, who so far hadn’t spoken. He was watching her and it struck her that it might be because she was still holding Gus’s arm. It made Clara want to laugh again. In minutes, the arrival of Gus McCrae had mixed up everyone, just as it usually had in the past. It had always been a peculiarity of her friendship with Augustus. Nobody had ever been able to figure out whether she was in love with him or not. Her parents had puzzled over the question for years—it had replaced Bible arguments as their staple of conversation.
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“You take ’em, Buf,” Mary said. “I’ll take the one that come in first.” “Well, maybe you will and maybe you won’t,” Buf said. “I seen him first, I oughta have dibs.” Newt almost began to wish he had followed the example of Pete Spettle. It was a hot night, and close in the hall. He felt he might be sick. Also, from listening to the conversation he realized they were the two whores Dish had described. The big one was the Buffalo Heifer, and the other one was the one Dish said treated him nice. The Buffalo Heifer still had her large hand on his shoulder as she looked the group over. She had a black tooth right in front of her mouth. Her large body seemed to give off waves of heat, like a stove, and the toilet water she wore was so strong it made him queasy.
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“You were headed this way when you spotted us,” Augustus said. “When’d you change your mind?” Dixon, the big scout, was listening to the conversation with contempt in his expression. The contempt was as much for Weaver as for them.
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“Deets, have you ever spent much time wanting what you know you can’t have?” he asked, figuring to get the conversation off to a brisk start.
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“What will you do with me?” she had asked. “Leave me in the tent when you go see her?” “No, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll take you along and introduce you properly. You ain’t just baggage, you know. Clara probably don’t see another woman once a month. She’ll be happy for feminine conversation.” “She may know what I am, though,” Lorena said.
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“I’m not sick,” July said. “I must have slept too hard.” “I expect you did something too hard,” she said. “Stay and make conversation with these girls. That’s harder work than gelding horses.” July liked the girls, though he had not said much to them. They seemed fine girls to him, always chattering. Mostly they fought over who got to tend the baby.
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“Only unhappy,” Patrick Arandel said. He felt sorry for the young man. Five idle young whores were listening to the conversation, while one of their friends lay in labor in the next room.
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“He’s as loyal as any dog,” he whispered to her, when she was well enough to understand conversation. For a while she had just stared back at him without comprehension when he spoke to her. He meant Zwey, of course.
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As he neared Nebraska, the plains took on a browner look. Though he was fairly sure now he wasn’t going to die, he kept having spells of lightheadedness in which his vision wavered and he tended to run off at the mouth. At night he would wake and find himself in the middle of a conversation with Roscoe—it embarrassed him, though no one was around to hear.
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“I guess we got us a boy, Bob,” she said. The doctors had told her to talk to him—they thought it might make a difference, but Clara found that the only difference was that she got depressed. The depressing aspect of it was that it reminded her too clearly of their years together, for she had liked to chatter, and Bob never talked. She had talked at him for years and got no answers. He only spoke if money was concerned. She would talk for two hours and he would never utter a sentence. So far as conversation went, the marriage was no different than it had ever been—it was just easier for her to have her way about money, something that also struck her as sad.
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“They say you’re married to a sheriff,” Clara said, thinking conversation might help. The man might be the cause of her flight, she thought. She probably didn’t want him in the first place, and hadn’t asked for this child.
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The baby looked dead, and Elmira looked as if she were dying—but in fact both lived. Cholo held the little boy close to his face and blew on it, until finally the child moved and began to cry, a thin sound not much stronger than the squeak of a mouse. Elmira had passed out, but she was breathing.Clara went downstairs to heat some water and saw that the girls had taken breakfast to the two men. They were standing around while the men ate, not to be denied the novelty of conversation, even if only with two buffalo hunters, one of whom wouldn’t talk. It made her want to cry, suddenly, that her children were so devoid of playmates that they would hang around two sullen men just for the excitement of company. She heated the water and let the girls be. Probably the men would go on soon, though Luke seemed to be talking to the girls happily. Maybe he was as lonesome as they were.
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“Nope. I keep those hens to talk to me when I’m lonesome,” Clara said. “I’ll only eat the ones who can’t make good conversation.” Betsey wrinkled up her nose, amused by the comment. “Oh, Ma,” she said, “hens don’t talk.” “They talk,” Clara said. “You just don’t understand hen talk. I’m an old hen myself and it makes good sense to me.” “You ain’t old, Ma,” Sally said.
克拉拉说:“不是的。我让那些母鸡在我孤独的时候和我说话。”。“我只吃那些不能很好地交谈的人。”贝琪皱着鼻子,被这句话逗乐了。“哦,妈,”她说,“母鸡不会说话。”“它们会说话,”克拉拉说。“你就是不懂母鸡的话。我自己也是一只老母鸡,这对我来说很有道理。”“你不老,妈妈,”萨莉说。
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“I wish we’d met sooner, McCrae,” Wilbarger said. “I enjoy your conversation. I hope you’ll bury my man Chick and that boy that was with us. I wish now I’d never hired that boy.” “We’ll tend to it,” Augustus said.
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“They’re well known around Fort Worth for being murdering rascals,” Wilbarger said. “I never expected to be fool enough to let them murder me. It’s humbling. I lived through the worst war ever fought and then got killed by a damn sneaking horsethief. That galls me, I tell you.” “Any of us can oversleep,” Augustus said quietly. “If you was to lie quiet that lung might heal.” “No sir, not likely,” Wilbarger said. “I saw too many lung-shot boys when we were fighting the Rebs to expect that to happen. I’d rather just enjoy a little more conversation.” He turned his eyes toward the Hell Bitch and smiled—the sight of her seemed to cheer him more than anything.
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Deets looked at him. “He’s real polite, that gentleman,” he said. “I guess he thinks he might be dead before you get there.” “Oh, I see—the man don’t want to put nobody out,” Augustus said. “I’ll go anyway. I admire his conversation.” “Change horses,” Call said to Deets, and Deets loped off. He was trying to decide who they ought to take, and finally decided just to take Pea Eye, Deets and the boy. The boy could watch the horses, if there was trouble. It meant leaving the herd, but there was no help for it. There was good grazing and the herd looked peaceful. Dish and the rest of the crew ought to be about to handle it.
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Dan Suggs was not pleased with the conversation, either. “I thought you might be a man with some gumption,” he said. “I see I was wrong.” “I can supply enough gumption,” Jake said. “But I don’t ride with inexperienced men. If you think you can ride up to Call and McCrae and collect money from ’em with a few threats, then you’re too inexperienced for me.” Dan was silent for a bit. “Well, they’re just one bunch,” he said. “There are plenty of other herds on the trail.” “That’s right,” Jake said. “If I was you I’d try to regulate some of the ones that ain’t been led by Texas Rangers.” Roy and Ed looked at him hostilely. They didn’t like hearing it suggested that they weren’t up to the job. But Dan Suggs was a cooler man. After they’d played some cards and worked through a bottle of whiskey he admitted that the regulating scheme was something he’d just thought up.
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“If you had two, I wish you’d brought two,” Augustus said. “I need to get back in practice drinking.” “Well, if we don’t get across that goddamn river tomorrow, I’ll see if I can rustle up another one,” Wilbarger said, standing up. “I seldom get conversation like yours. I can’t figure out if I like it or not, but I will admit it’s conversation, which is more than can be had in my camp.” He mounted his horse and was about to ride away.
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