3. The inspector straightened up in his chair， leaned back， and talked for a__ time about his__， telling me of the clever frauds he had uncovered. His tone gradually became__， and presently he was telling me about his children. As he__， he advised me that he would consider my problem further and give me his__ in a few days.
佳句翻译
1. 我把自己的生命浪费在争吵之中。
译______________
2. 这种胜利没有什么实际意义，因为你永远获得不了对方的好感。
译______________
3. 人性中最常见的弱点在这位稽查员的身上得到了很好的验证。
译______________
短语应用
1. ...the more my prospect argued in favor of it...
in favor of：有利于；赞同；支持
造______________
2. An item of nine thousand dollars was at stake.
at stake：处于危险中；在紧要关头
造______________
每次只打开一扇门
One Door Every Time
佚名 / Anonymous
When my husband， John， and I had our first child 20 years ago， we agreed I’d be a stay-at-home mom. That meant we’d have to make do on a single income. We scrimped and saved so we could keep with the mortgage and our student loans. We ate a lot of macaroni and cheese dinners. We even didn’t go to the movies anymore.
I clipped coupons and tracked down sales. Tuesday was when the thrift stores put out their “new” merchandise. Wednesday was when the meat and dairy section goods were marked at half price just prior to their expiration date. Saturday morning meant getting to the garage sales before anyone else. But none of this was unfamiliar. I grew up wanting. So I had set my sights on realistic goals that would get me out of poverty： a college education， a solid marriage and a career. I’d had done it all， yet I still couldn’t imagine things would never go right for me. My faith felt more like a safety net than a reason to have hope for a better life.
Things took a turn one day when I got a phone call. “Shelly？ This is Bill Porter，” the voice on the end of the line said. Bill was a door-to-door salesman I’d delivered packages for in high school. “Would you be interested in coming back a couple of days a week to fill orders for me？” I talked about it with John， and then went to work for Bill.
The first thing you notice about Bill is his unusual appearance. His ears are very large. He walks—or rather， shuffles—stooped over. His right hand is balled up almost into a fist. And he takes a long time to get his words out. When I was a teen I was too shy to ask about it. But one day after I started to work for him again I posed the question.
“Bill， do you have MS or something like that？” I asked. “I have cerebral palsy，” he answered matter-of-factly. I think he knew I was nervous talking about it. “But...what does that mean？ How did you get it？ Will it get worse？” “The doctor’s forceps damaged my brain at my birth. My condition will never get any worse. But it won’t get any better， either. It doesn’t stop me from accomplishing whatever I set my mind to.”
Bill’s optimism amazed me， especially in contrast to my own tendency toward pessimism. He gave credits to his parents， who taught him a strong faith. They fought to get him into public school； after he graduated， his father told him， “Get a job.” He wasn’t being harsh. It’s just that they’d never coddled Bill； instead， they had always insisted he could do anything he set his mind to and they never let him give up. Bill got an interview with Watkins Incorporated， a company whose salesmen peddled home remedies and spices door to door. Bill told the director， “Selling is in my blood. It almost doesn’t matter what the product is， as long as I believe in it. Give me a chance and you’ll see.”
The director gave Bill a job on a trial basis. He knocked on door after door and heard no after no. Then Bill started making sales. He walked his route eight hours a day， or more， and became the company’s top salesman in the entire Northwest. It wasn’t easy. Every morning， Bill’s alarm went off at 4：45 a.m.. His bus downtown left at 7：20 a.m.. Bill needed all that time because he doesn’t like to dress in a rush. “Appearance is essential，” he said. Each morning he put on clean socks， pressed trousers and fresh white shirt. He would leave his cuffs unbuttoned， his wingtips loosely tied， and his tie in the briefcase. Some friends at a hotel near where he made a bus transfer attended to those loose ends. Bill would hit the streets， knocking on every single door， telling himself， “The next customer will say yes.” The key is， Bill believes they’ll all say yes eventually.
I kept working for Bill even after I had a few more children. John was making more money， but I continued to scrimp and save. Honestly， it had become a compulsion. I still went through life with a sense of foreboding. Faith was still an insurance policy against disaster rather than a way to meet life head-on. Bill used his faith every day， getting out of bed and expecting the best. Would I ever look at life that way？ Even my husband was frustrated with me. One weekend John wanted to go to a movie. “We can catch the seven o’clock show.” “Honey， can’t we go to the matinee？” I asked. “It’s cheaper.” “We can afford it.” He was right， but I couldn’t stop worrying about money and the future. It all stemmed from my childhood， and I’d never be able to overcome that.