词汇：spend

vt. 花费；度过，消磨（时光）；用尽；浪费

相关场景

“I doubt it,” Augustus said. “The eyesight of your average Indian is overrated. They spend too much time in them smoky tepees. The bulk of them can’t see in the dark no better than we can, if as well. So it’s a big chance for them, sneaking up on sharpshooters like us.” “Well, I ain’t a sharpshooter,” Pea Eye said. “I need to take a good aim or else I miss.” “You’re near as depressing as Jasper Fant,” Augustus said.
“我对此表示怀疑，”奥古斯都说。“普通印度人的视力被高估了。他们花了太多时间在烟雾缭绕的帐篷里。他们中的大多数人在黑暗中看不见东西，如果有的话，也不比我们好。所以对他们来说，偷偷接近像我们这样的神枪手是一个很大的机会。”“好吧，我不是神枪手，”Pea-Eye说。“我需要好好瞄准，否则我就错过了。”“你几乎和贾斯珀·范特一样沮丧，”奥古斯都说。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Hell, whores make a sight more than cowboys,” Ben kept saying—it seemed to trouble him a good deal. “We don’t make but thirty dollars a month and them two made thirty dollars off us in about three minutes. It would have been forty if Pete hadn’t backed out.” To Newt such an argument seemed wide of the point. What the whores sold was unique. The fact that it exceeded top- hand wages didn’t matter. He decided he would probably be as big a whore as Jake and Mr. Gus when he grew up and had money to spend.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
But Pea was not forthcoming. “Oh, I mostly just stay with the wagon,” he said, which was no answer at all. Indeed, while they were standing around getting used to having money to spend, Pea got his horse and rode off. Except for Lippy and the Irishman, they were the only members of the Hat Creek outfit left in town.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“No, you’d just spend it on barbers,” Augustus said. “These boys will put it to better use. They deserve a frolic before we set out to the far north.” He popped the team with the reins and rode out of town, thinking how young the boys were. Age had never mattered to him much. He felt that, if anything, he himself had gained in ability as the years went by. Yet he became a little wistful, thinking of the boys. However he might best them, he could never stand again where they stood, ready to go into a whorehouse for the first time. The world of women was about to open to them. Of course, if a whorehouse in Ogallala was the door they had to go through, some would be scared back to the safety of the wagon and the cowboys. But some wouldn’t.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
She longed, sometimes, to talk to a person who actually wrote stories and had them printed in magazines. It interested her to speculate how it was done: whether they used people they knew, or just made people up. Once she had even ordered some big writing tablets, thinking she might try it anyway, even if she didn’t know how, but that was in the hopeful years before her boys died. With all the work that had to be done she never actually sat down and tried to write anything—and then the boys died and her feeling changed. Once the sight of the writing tablets had made her hopeful, but after those deaths it ceased to matter. The tablets were just another reproach to her, something willful she had wanted. She burned the tablets one day, trembling with anger and pain, as if the paper and not the weather had been somehow responsible for the deaths of her boys. And, for a time, she stopped reading the magazines. The stories in them seemed hateful to her: how could people talk that way and spend their time going to balls and parties, when children died and had to be buried?
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Clara had bought the piano with money saved all those years from the sale of her parents’ little business in Texas. She had never let Bob use the money—another bone of contention between them. She wanted it for her children, so when the time came they could be sent away to school and not have to spend their whole youth in such a raw, lonely place. The first of the money she spent was on the two-story frame house they had built three years before, after nearly fifteen years of life in the sod house Bob had dug for her on a slope above the Platte. Clara had always hated the sod house—hated the dirt that seeped down on her bedclothes, year after year. It was dust that caused her firstborn, Jim, to cough virtually from his birth until he died a year later. In the mornings Clara would walk down and wash her hair in the icy waters of the Platte, and yet by supper time, if she happened to scratch her head, her fingernails would fill with dirt that had seeped down during the day. For some reason, no matter where she moved her bed, the roof would trickle dirt right onto it. She tacked muslin, and finally canvas, on the ceiling over the bed but nothing stopped the dirt for long. It sifted through. It seemed to her that all her children had been conceived in dust clouds, dust rising from the bedclothes or sifting down from the ceiling. Centipedes and other bugs loved the roof; day after day they crawled down the walls, to end up in her stewpots or her skillets or the trunks where she stored her clothes.
克拉拉用多年来卖掉父母在得克萨斯州的小生意攒下的钱买了这架钢琴。她从未让鲍勃使用这笔钱——这是他们之间的另一个争论点。她想把它送给她的孩子，这样到时候他们就可以被送去上学，而不必在这样一个原始、孤独的地方度过整个青春。她花的第一笔钱是他们三年前建造的两层框架房子，在鲍勃在普拉特河上方的一个斜坡上为她挖的草皮房子里生活了近十五年。克拉拉一直讨厌那间草皮屋，讨厌年复一年地渗到她床上用品上的污垢。正是灰尘导致她的长子吉姆从出生到一年后去世几乎一直咳嗽。每天早上，克拉拉都会走下来，在普拉特冰冷的水中洗头，但到了晚饭时间，如果她碰巧挠头，她的指甲里就会充满白天渗出的污垢。不知为什么，无论她把床移到哪里，屋顶上的污垢都会直接流到上面。她在床的天花板上钉上了细棉布，最后是帆布，但没有什么能长时间阻挡污垢。它通过筛选。在她看来，她所有的孩子都是在尘埃云中孕育的，尘埃云是从床上用品上升起的，还是从天花板上筛下的。蜈蚣和其他虫子喜欢屋顶；日复一日，它们沿着墙壁爬行，最终落入她的炖锅、煎锅或她存放衣服的箱子里。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The Kansas sky was thickly seeded with stars. He listened to the Irishman sing the sad songs that seemed to soothe the cattle. He spent the whole night thinking about the woman in the tent nearby, imagining things that might happen when they finally came to Montana and were through with the trail. He didn’t sleep, or want to sleep, for there was no telling when he would get a chance to spend another night close to her. His horse grazed nearby on the good grass, which grew wet with dew as the morning came.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Occasionally a cowboy would pass by, his spurs jingling. Some of them gave July a look, but none of them spoke to him. It was comfortable to sit in the saloon—as sheriff, he had usually avoided them unless he had business in one. It had always puzzled him how some men could spend their days just sitting in a saloon, drinking, but now it was beginning to seem less puzzling. It was restful, and the heavy feeling that came with the drinking was a relief to him, in a way. For the last few weeks he had been struggling to do things which were beyond his powers—he knew he was supposed to keep trying, even if he wasn’t succeeding, but it was pleasant not to try for a little while.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“You know something else? I paid that nigger,” she said. “I give him ten dollars to turn whore and then he never got to spend it.” “Why not?” Jake asked.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Big Zwey began to spend hours just watching her. He didn’t pretend to gamble or do anything else, he just watched her.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I don’t intend to spend the night here,” July said. “Has she got a horse?” “No, but she’s quick of foot,” Roscoe said. “She’s been keeping ahead of me without no trouble. Where are we going?” “To Fort Worth,” July said. “The sheriff there will probably be glad to get these men.” “Yes, he will, the son of a bitch,” Hutto said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Woodrow, you go,” Augustus said. “I ain’t in the mood for city life just now. I’ll stay here and play cards with Lorie until that scamp shows up.” Call was very annoyed. One of Gus’s worst traits was an inability to stick to a plan. Call might spend all night working out a strategy, and Augustus might go along with it for ten minutes and then lose patience and just do whatever came into hismind. Of course, going into town to hire a cook was no great project, but it was still irritating that Gus would just drop off.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Several times they came upon farms. July asked the farmers if they had seen Jake, and twice was told that yes, Jake had spent the night. But they themselves didn’t spend the night, and rarely even took a meal. Once on a hot afternoon July did accept a glass of buttermilk from a farmer’s wife. Joe got one too. There were several little girls on that farm, who giggled every time they looked at Joe, but he ignored them. The farmer’s wife asked them twice to stay overnight, but they went on and made camp in a place thick with mosquitoes.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Whoa, now,” Augustus said. “I’m just eating my bite of bacon. But I will say you should have brought a tent if you mean to take a sprightly girl like Lorie out in the weather.” Jake didn’t intend to spend any time bantering about women with Gus. It was good they had the horse back, of course. “I reckon we’ll pack up and move on to San Antonio,” he said, just as Lorena came back with an armful of dry clothes.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
When not doing chores he would spend hours practicing with an old rope he had found, roping stumps, or sometimes the milk-pen calf.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“It’s a funny life,” Augustus said. “All these cattle and nine-tenths of the horses is stolen, and yet we was once respected lawmen. If we get to Montana we’ll have to go into politics. You’ll wind up governor if the dern place ever gets to be a state. And you’ll spend all your time passing laws against cattle thieves.” “I wish there was a law I could pass against you,” Call said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I doubt she’ll want to spend no time in San Antonio,” Augustus said. “That’s where she was before she came here, and women don’t like to go backwards. Most women will never back up an inch their whole lives.” “I can’t see that it’s any of your affair what we do,” Jake said. “I guess she’d go to San Antonio if I say to. If she don’t, she’ll just get left.” “Bring her on the drive,” Augustus said. “She might like Montany. Or if she gets tired of looking at the ass end of these cows, you could always stop in Denver.” It was something, the talent Gus had for saying the very thing that a man might have been half thinking. Jake had more than once considered Denver, regretted more than once that he hadn’t stopped there instead of going to Fort Smith.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
You wouldn’t even know how to have fun with it. You’d probably use it to buy gravestones for old bandits you happened to like.” “If you drown in the Republican River, I’ll give your part to Jake,” Call said. “I guess he’d know how to spend it.’” With that he mounted and rode off, meaning to find Jasper Fant and hire him, if he really wanted to work.BY THE TIME Jake Spoon had been in Lonesome Dove ten days, Lorena knew she had a job to do—namely the job of holding him to his word and making sure he took her to San Francisco as he had promised to do.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Go where?” Jake asked. “I just got set down.” “To hide them horses,” Augustus said. “Pedro Flores is no quitter. He’ll be coming.” Jake felt sour. He wished again that circumstances hadn’t prompted him to come back. He had already spent one full night on horseback, and now the boys were expecting him to spend another, all on account of a bunch of livestock he had no interest in in the first place.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Once you left, our standards slipped,” Augustus said. “The majority of this outfit ain’t interested in refinements.” “That’s plain,” Jake said. “There’s a damn pig on the back porch. What about them biscuits?” “Much as I’ve missed you, I ain’t overworking my sourdough just because you and Deets couldn’t manage to get here in time,” Augustus said. “What I will do is fry some meat.” He fried it, and Jake and Deets ate it, while Bolivar sat in the corner and sulked at the thought of two more breakfasts to wash up after. It amused Augustus to watch Jake eat—he was so fastidious about it—but the sight put Call into a black fidget. Jake could spend twenty minutes picking at some eggs and a bit of bacon. It was obvious to Augustus that Call was trying to be polite and let Jake get some food in his belly before he told his story, but Call was not a patient man and had already controlled his urge to get to work longer than was usual. He stood in the door, watching the whitening sky and looking restless enough to bite himself.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
One thing Dish prided himself on was his skill at driving a buggy; it occurred to him that since Lorena seemed to spend most of her time cooped up in the Dry Bean, she might appreciate a buggy ride along the river in a smart buggy, if such a creature could be found in Lonesome Dove. He got up and carried his plate to the wash bucket.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Meanwhile there was Lorena, who might come to see him in an entirely different light if he could spend time with her for a few days running. Of course, getting to spend time with her was expensive, and he had not a cent, but if word got around that he was working for the Hat Creek outfit he could probably attract a little credit.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“We’re too old, Call,” he said. “We’ve forgot everything we need to know.” “You may have,” Call said. “I ain’t.” Seeing Dish put Call in mind of his idea again. He was not eager to spend the rest of his life on well-digging or barn repair.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Why, hell, go,” Augustus said. “Life’s a short affair. Why spend it here?” “Well, you are,” Dish said, in a surly tone, hoping Gus would take the hint and set out immediately.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Anyway, I’ve known you to be sly, Dish. You’ve probably got two dollars and just don’t want to spend it.” Lippy finished his concert and came and joined them. He wore a brown bowler hat he had picked up on the road to San Antonio some years before. Either it had blown out of a stagecoach or the Indians had snatched some careless drummer and not bothered to take his hat. At least those were the two theories Lippy had worked out in order to explain his good fortune in finding the hat. In Augustus’s view the hat would have looked better blowing around the country for two years than it did at present. Lippy only wore it when he played the piano; when he was just gambling or sitting around attending to the leak from his stomach he frequently used the hat for an ashtray and then sometimes forgot to empty the ashes before putting the hat back on his head. He only had a few strips of stringy gray hair hanging off his skull, and the ashes didn’t make them look much worse, but ashes represented only a fraction of the abuse the bowler had suffered. It was also Lippy’s pillow, and had had so many things spilled on it or in it that Augustus could hardly look at it without gagging.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇