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洛克伍德先生造访呼啸山庄(2)

Mr Heathcliff and I entered the huge main room. It could have been any Yorkshire farmhouse kitchen, except that there was no sign of cooking, and no farmer sitting at the table.

Mr Heathcliff certainly does not look like a farmer. His hair and skin are dark, like a gipsy's, but he has the manners of a gentleman.

He could perhaps take more care with his appearance, but he is handsome. I think he is proud, and also unhappy.

We sat down by the fire, in silence. Joseph! shouted Mr Heathcliff.

No answer came from the cellar, so he dived down there, leaving me alone with several rather fiercelooking dogs. Suddenly one of them jumped angrily up at me, and in a moment all the others were attacking me.

From every shadowy corner in the great room appeared a growling animal, ready to kill me, it seemed. Help! Mr Heathcliff! Help! I shouted, trying to keep the dogs back.

My landlord and his servant were in no hurry to help, and could not have climbed the cellar steps more slowly, but luckily a woman, who I supposed was the housekeeper, rushed into the room to calm the dogs.

What the devil is the matter? Mr Heathcliff asked me rudely, when he finally entered the room. Your dogs, sir! I replied. You shouldn't leave a stranger with them. They're dangerous.

Come, come, Mr Lockwood. Have some wine. We don't often have strangers here, and I'm afraid neither I nor my dogs are used to receiving them.

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