"She was married to an officer in India long ago and she had a life of physical adventure as exciting as her poetry. Her husband could cross rivers, using crocodiles (鳄鱼) as stepping stones. He died when she was only thirty-nine. Unwilling to exist without him, she took her life, leaving a son in England."
I stared at the paper, (36) reading, couldn’t help thinking.
Crocodiles are lazy animals as a rule, but they can (37) like lightning when they want to. And they don’t mind hurrying (38) they’re hungry. There used to be lots in Indian rivers, living on fish mostly, but what’s a little fish (39) a fif-toot crocodile They are people, fisherman or anyone else delicious enough to get too near; women doing the (40) or children playing at the water’s (41) . A hungry crocodile’s mouth (42) over a meal with a sound like a gunshot. A big fellow can (43) in a man in two bites.
That woman’s husband crossed rivers (44) from one crocodile’s back to the next. I believe it. It had to be done (45) before the creature could see what was happening. It wasn’t (46) a brave, active man, and no doubt he improved with practice. He could never look (47) while crossing.
The wife used to watch him—I felt (48) of that. She lived (49) the adventure with the (50) excitement of it all. Their real life was with tigers, snakes... It’s no wonder she wrote (51) poetry.
Then he (52) . I imagined how she felt. Was there another man (53) him in India, in the world She was still young, hardly a sitting-room widow (寡妇). "I must (54) , too." She said to herself. So she did what she felt she had to do. A (55) probably, to her head. But her young son, their son Was her love for him nothing compared to her husband Well, what do you think
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