As I have already said, I had started with the belief that Flaxman would not approve my action in bringing her to the station at all. In this I very soon discovered that I was mistaken. The first feeling of antagonism4 having departed, he not only reconciled himself to her presence, but, to my astonishment5, appeared to find a positive pleasure in it. I noticed that his eyes watched her as she moved about the room, and once I could have sworn I heard him heave a deep sigh. Perhaps she reminded him of someone he had known in that mysterious past of his, to which nothing would ever induce him to refer. Taken altogether, he was a queer mixture was John Flaxman.
As for Miss Moira herself, every day saw a difference in her. Her once hollow cheeks had filled out and had taken to themselves the bloom of health--her eyes had lost their frightened look entirely6. She had improved her wardrobe with all a woman’s cleverness and daintiness, while she treated Flaxman and myself as though we were two elder brothers who stood in constant need of all her care and attention. By degrees she had entirely taken over the management of the house, thus relieving Flaxman and myself of one of our most irksome responsibilities. Under our régime the matutinal interview with our Chinese cook ran on something like the following lines.
Scene: The kitchen.
“Morning, John!”
Grunt7 from John, as he dusts an invisible crumb8 from his spotless table.
“What have got?”
“Col-lee mullon yeslay (cold mutton) makee one same cullee (make curry9), potato pie think? All same leesehole (rissole).”
By this he desired to inform me that there was sufficient mutton remaining over from the previous day, which, by his dexterous10 manipulation could be turned into a curry, a potato pie, or that culinary standby, the accommodating rissole. Cattle and sheep stations are not proverbial for their variety of diet; on the one it is all beef, beef, beef, fresh occasionally, salted usually; on the other it consists of the eternal mutton, roast, boiled, hashed, or stewed11, according to the taste and fancy of the eater.
Now all this was changed; Miss Moira assumed direction of affairs, and we were absolved12 from our visits to the kitchen. At first the cook was disposed to resent the intrusion of a female, but he gradually became accustomed to it, until at last, in his own pig-tailed way, he enrolled13 himself as one of her most ardent14 and devoted15 admirers. “Allee same one piece woman, velly good,” he was once heard to remark, and after that there could be no doubt as to his approval. We congratulated her on her victory, but she took the matter very calmly, as she did most things.
“John and I thoroughly16 understand one another,” she declared. “I praised his pastry17, and so won his regard for ever. He is pliable18 enough, if he is properly managed.”
“Most of us are,” I put in. “To borrow a simile19 from our Chinese friend, we are all pastry in a woman’s hands.”
“I am afraid you forget that in order to become pastry you must originally have been dough,” was her laughing reply, “and that sounds scarcely complimentary20, does it?”
“Fairly hit, my boy,” cried Flaxman, who was making a cracker21 for his stockwhip on the verandah outside, “if you will play bowls or compliments, you must expect the rub.”
“Compliment or no compliment,” I answered, “it’s the truth, is it not, Miss Moira? There is scarcely a man in the world whose life is not influenced, one might almost say moulded, by some woman, for good or ill. I wonder how many men there are in Australia at this minute eating their hearts out in exile, who but for some woman would be living their lives out in peace in England?”
At that moment I heard the crack of Flaxman’s chair as he rose from it and went down the verandah towards the steps. I immediately wondered whether, metaphorically22, I had trodden on his corns by my foolish speech. I sincerely hoped not, for I would not have given the poor old fellow a moment’s pain for anything. He, at least, so I firmly believed, might be classed among those to whom I had just alluded23. I fancy Miss Moira knew what was passing in my mind, for she looked at me and then at the window; after which, with what was for her an unusually quiet air, she departed on household duties intent. When she had gone I could have kicked myself most heartily24 for my stupid speech. I had said it without thought, and by doing so had given pain to the two people I liked best in the world. That was always my way. My heart was in the right place, but that unruly member my tongue would persist in getting me into trouble, however much I might try to prevent it.
At the commencement of the week following it became necessary for me to go north in order to purchase some stock for which we were in treaty. It was a long and tiring journey, and, as I brought the cattle back with me, nearly a week elapsed before I reached home again. Needless to say I was by no means sorry when I saw ahead of me the white roofs of the head station rising above the trees. Having seen the cattle disposed of, I gave up my horse and made my way to the house. It was nearly time for our evening meal, and I was as hungry as a hunter. But it was not of that I was thinking, but of Miss Moira. Since I had been away I had thought more than a little of her, more perhaps than was altogether good for my peace of mind. During the cold, dark nights, when I had been on watch with the cattle, and when the only sound to be heard was the croaking25 of the frogs down at the waterholes, the occasional lowing of some uneasy beast, and the cry of a night bird in the scrub, I used to think of her, and wonder at the strange chance that had brought her into my life. I used to picture her moving about the rooms, seated at the piano or presiding at the tray at table, until I almost felt as if I were actually present with her. That I was over head and ears in love with her I knew only too well, but whether she, on her side, entertained any feeling other than kindness for me I could not, of course, tell then. Why she should do so I could not think--it was true I had found her in the storm and had brought her to the station, but I had done no more. On the other hand, Flaxman was cleverer than I in a hundred ways; he was handsomer by a great deal, was the possessor of a more polished manner; and for these reasons, and many others, was more likely to catch a maiden’s eye. For the first time since I had known him I felt jealous of him; but, in justice to myself, I must say that I tried to put the feeling away from me. What right, I asked myself, had I to be jealous of Flaxman, or indeed of anyone else? Yet the wretched fact remained; it was so, and it would not be denied.
I ascended26 the verandah steps and passed into the hall. The sound of music came from the sitting-room27, and from the touch I knew that it was Flaxman playing. Vaguely28 irritated, I strode to my own room, tossed my hat and valise on to the bed, and then made my way to the room where I had no doubt I should find them both. As I reached the door a burst of laughter from within caused me to stop before entering. I felt as if I were playing the part of the unwelcome guest at the marriage feast. I cursed myself for a fool, and opened the door. It was a homely29 scene that presented itself to me. Flaxman was seated at the piano, with his back towards me. Miss Moira was reclining in a low chair beside the fire, knitting. Opposite her, to my intense surprise, was an elderly lady of most imposing30 appearance, with snowy hair, worn in ringlets, gold-rimmed spectacles, and a general air of respectability that was almost awe-inspiring. It was a matter of some moments before I recognised in her the widow of the parson of a township thirty miles or so away. But what on earth was she doing here? That was what puzzled me. She seemed to be quite as much at home as the old cat dozing31 before the blazing logs.
The sound of my entrance made the two ladies look up, and the exclamation32 of surprise to which Miss Moira gave utterance33 brought Flaxman wheeling round on his stool to face me.
“Welcome, old fellow,” he cried, hastening forward to greet me. “We were only talking of you half an hour ago and wondering when we should see you, were we not, Moira?”
I started as if I had been stung. So they had even got as far as this during my absence. He called her by her Christian34 name and she did not object to it. I felt more like the unwelcome guest than ever, particularly when I noticed that Moira seemed to hang back behind Flaxman, with a shyness I had never noticed in her before. It was almost timidly that she offered me her hand and bade me welcome home. My heart sank down and down, for I feared the worst. I tried hard to pull myself together, but in vain; the jealous dog was on my shoulder, ready to show his teeth on the smallest opportunity.
“I think you already know Mrs. Dawson, do you not?” enquired35 Flaxman, with a little motion of his hand towards the widow, who, like the others, had risen and was standing36 before the fire.
“I believe I have that pleasure,” I remarked, but with no great show of cordiality. “I think I met you the last time I was in Marabah.”
“I remember the occasion perfectly37,” she replied in a voice like that of a tragedy queen. “My poor dear husband was alive then, ah me!” She heaved a heavy sigh as she thought of the dear departed. This was, of course, only for effect, since it was notorious that they had led a cat-and-dog life together for years. On which side the fault lay I am not prepared to say.
“Mrs. Dawson has been kind enough to come up and pay us a short visit,” my partner continued. “I am afraid she must find it very dull, but she is good enough to pretend that she does not. Now that you have returned we must see what we can do to amuse the ladies.”
I am afraid I sniffed38 scornfully. If Flaxman imagined I was going to trot39 Mrs. Dawson about the station like a bear-leader while he paid court to Miss Moira, he was very much mistaken. I would not do that for him or anyone else, and the sooner he realised that fact the better it would be, so I told myself, not only for him, but for all concerned. I am afraid I was in a very bad temper indeed, and it threatened to grow worse as the evening progressed. What a poor, weak-minded fool I was! However, I was destined40 to pay dearly for it later on.
All this time Miss Moira had stood quietly in the background. Once or twice she looked at me as if she divined that there was something wrong and was not able to tell what she could do to set matters right. I turned to address her, and as ill-luck would have it, I had scarcely uttered a word before Flaxman, who was kneeling at the fire, putting some logs on, said without looking round:--
“Isn’t it time for us to get ready for dinner? Surely it must be nearly seven, Moira?”
Of course, being in the humour I was, I must needs take this as meaning that he was anxious to prevent me from speaking to her.
“Surely the dinner can wait for a few minutes,” I said pettishly41. “I’ve no doubt it won’t spoil while I ask Miss Moira what she has been doing with herself during my absence.”
I had no sooner said it than I realised what a tactless speech it was. In the first place, I had snubbed Flaxman; in the second, I had implied that the dinner would in all probability be a poor one, which was a deliberate slight upon Miss Moira’s house-keeping; and in the third and last place, I had as good as said that the young lady in question must of necessity find the time hang heavily upon her hands when I was away from home. Whether she saw what was passing in my mind or not, I cannot say, but she replied without hesitation42.
“Everything has gone on very much as usual,” she answered. “I have had the house to look after. I have had several nice rides on the mare43 you gave me. She is as quiet as a lamb now, by the way, and looks so beautiful. You will see a difference in Fly’s puppies, I expect, they have grown a great deal. Poor old thing, she has missed you.”
“That’s more than other people have,” I thought to myself bitterly. “It’s a trifle hard to a man when only his dog, poor dumb creature, seems to have felt his absence from home.” However, thank goodness, I had, for once, sufficient sense to keep these thoughts to myself. Had I given utterance to them, I dare not think what the consequences would have been. We talked together for a few moments longer, and then, without further opposition44 on my part, went off to our respective rooms to prepare ourselves for the evening meal.
I had just changed from my travelling clothes into those I usually wore at home, when Flaxman entered the room. I thought at first that he had come to remonstrate45 with me for my sulky behaviour in the sitting-room and to find out in what way he had offended. I soon discovered, however, that this was not the case. He had merely come in for a chat while I dressed, as he very often did. Despite my wretched temper, I could not help feeling my heart warm to him as I saw him in my looking--glass seated on the bed, watching me with a smile on his kindly46 face. He was a man with whom anyone would find it difficult to pick a quarrel, and yet that evening I had been quite prepared to do so, indeed I had been almost anxious to do so.
“Well, how did you get on?” he enquired. “Did the cattle come up to your expectations?”
“In every way,” I answered, manipulating a tie as I spoke47. “They’re a first-class lot and should do well in our country. I got them cheaper than I expected. I fancy old MacPherson wants money--at least, I gathered as much from what one of his overseers let slip. If all goes well, we shall turn over a snug48 profit by next season.”
“Bravo, old fellow, you’re a wonderful hand at scenting49 out a bargain. At any rate, I’m glad to have you home again. I did not think you could possibly be here before Saturday.”
“I should not have been, but for the river falling. We were able to cross just above Arbuthnot’s boundary, so saved a couple of days--a saving for which both I and the cattle were more than grateful. If we had had any more rain it would have meant going round by the Rocky Waterhole, and that’s far from being a part of the country that I care about. Any news here?”
“Nothing of any importance,” he replied. “There was a slight freshet on Monday, so we moved the stock from number three paddock up to number five. On Wednesday, that is to say yesterday, the stores came up, and I sent out the ration50 cart to the huts. That’s all there is to tell, I fancy.”
There was a little pause, after which I said, “By the way, how did Mrs. Dawson happen to get up here? She was about the last person I expected to see.”
We were facing each other now, and it seemed to me that he looked a little uneasy. Once more I began to grow suspicious. I wondered what excuse he would make to account for her presence. He did not attempt to make one, however. His answer was perfectly straightforward51, as I should have known it would be.
“I asked her to come up and spend a short time with us,” he said. “For some while I have thought it was scarcely fair of us to debar Miss Moira from the society of her own sex. Feeling sure that you would agree with me, I wrote to her, she accepted, and I sent the buggy to the mail change to meet her. Perhaps I should have waited until you came home, but the opportunity seemed too good to be missed. You are not annoyed about it, are you?”
“Why on earth should I be?” I asked, but none too cordially. “You have a perfect right to do as you please, and, of course, we must make Miss Moira as happy as we can. That goes without saying.”
“I’m glad you take it like that,” he continued; “I was half afraid you might not like it. Now, let us come and have dinner. I expect you are ready for it.”
When we reached the dining-room we found the cloth laid and everything ready for our meal. Though, of course, I did not say anything on the subject, I could not help comparing the table as it was now, with what it had been, say, a year before. Now it was daintily decorated, the glass and silver sparkled upon the snowy napery; aforetime we were content with pewter plates, forks and spoons, while our glass ware52 might have been dropped or thrown about without the least fear of any damage happening to it. And this change we owed to Miss Moira, the girl whom I had rescued under such extraordinary circumstances a few months before. For that, at least, we should have been grateful.
For upwards53 of a fortnight Mrs. Dawson remained with us, and by the end of that time I had quite come to see the wisdom of Flaxman’s action. There could be no sort of doubt that it gave Miss Moira pleasure to have a female companion, one with whom she could talk the talk that women love and of which Flaxman and I were necessarily incapable54. When one got to know her, the widow proved a kindly old soul, and while perhaps her best friend could not have called her intellectual, she was quite clever enough to comprehend the position of affairs and to act accordingly.
As may be supposed, I was quite ready to enjoy a holiday after my long and tire--some journey. I had worked hard, had made money for the firm, and felt entitled to a spell. Winter was well advanced, and, so far as I was concerned, work on the station was practically at a standstill. I was thus able to devote more time to the amusement of Miss Moira and her companion than I should otherwise have been able to do. I took them for drives here, there, and everywhere, pointed55 out the beauties of the run, such as they were, and generally did my best to interest them. And with each day my love was growing stronger and stronger. Sometimes it was as much as I could do to keep it back, so strong was the craving56 to let her know how much she was to me. But I dared not do it. What, I had to ask myself, would my position be should she tell me that she did not love me? In that case it would be necessary for one of us to leave the station, for we could not live under the same roof together. And who would have to leave?
At last Mrs. Dawson’s stay came to an end, and I drove her to the mail change eight miles away, where she was to catch the coach for home. That she was sorry to go there could be no doubt; she had taken a sincere liking57 to Miss Moira, which was heartily reciprocated58. As we drove along she spoke of her.
“She is a wonderful girl,” she said. “I don’t think I have ever met another like her. He will be a lucky man who wins her for his wife.”
To this I offered no reply, for the simple reason that I felt I could not speak without betraying my secret. She did not appear to find anything extraordinary in my silence, or if she did she did not comment upon it. But she had not done with the subject yet.
“Yes,” she continued, “he will be a lucky man who obtains the hand of Moira Pendragon in marriage. Pray, have you noticed anything lately?”
“In what way?” I asked. “Do you mean in reference to Miss Moira? If so, I am afraid I have not.”
“Well, yes, it refers to her of course,” she went on, “but I am thinking of Mr. Flaxman. Has it ever struck you that he admires her?”
So she had noticed it too, had she? I felt the old demon59 of jealousy60 spring to life within me immediately. If she had noticed it, then it must be so, and my friend was my rival after all.
“I do not see how anyone could fail to admire her,” was my reply. Then, after a short pause, I added, “Does it strike you that he means anything by the admiration61 he entertains for her?”
“I cannot, of course, say for certain,” she answered, “but in my own heart I feel confident that he does. One has only to watch him when he is in her company to realise that in Moira he has met his fate.”
Every word she uttered stabbed deeper and deeper into my heart, and yet, though I winced62 under the pain, I did not attempt to escape from it.
“What you say naturally surprises me,” I began. “It is also a little disquieting63, for Flaxman is not only my partner, but my best friend. If he were to marry, it would make a vast deal of difference to me, and I am afraid I am selfish enough to think of that.”
“Perhaps I should not have spoken my mind so freely,” was her reply. “But I felt sure you must have noticed it as I did, and have drawn64 your own conclusions. The matter seemed so obvious.”
The horses had covered nearly a hundred yards before I put my next question to her.
“And what do you think Miss Moira’s decision would be in the event of his asking her to become his wife?” I queried65, though I could scarcely force myself to utter the words.
“I feel sure she would accept him,” replied the old busybody. “And I think she would be very wise. He is a charming man, well read, good-looking, and they have so many accomplishments66 and tastes in common.”
I cursed his good looks and his accomplishments, and to prove it gave the near--side horse such a cut with the whip that it sent him capering67 down the track for a hundred yards or more. Fortunately for her peace of mind the old lady beside me was quite unconscious of the pain she had caused me, and I intended that she should remain so if necessary to the end of the chapter. Five minutes later, when I had steered68 the conversation into a safer channel, the mail change hut came into view, and almost at the same moment the coach itself turned the corner of the cross tracks and pulled up before the shanty69. When we had drawn up alongside, I assisted Mrs. Dawson to alight, and then saw to the stowing away of her luggage on the coach. The driver was ready to start again by the time this was finished, so that there was no opportunity permitted us for discussing the topic in which we were both so much, yet so differently, interested. This was a boon70 for which, you may be sure, I was grateful.
When the clumsy vehicle had rolled away and had disappeared round the corner of the track, I stayed talking to the change man for a time, then having obtained our mail bag, turned my horses’ heads and set off on my drive back to the station. As you may suppose, I had plenty to think about as I drove along, and my thoughts were far from being pleasant ones. What would become of me if Moira became Flaxman’s wife, as I felt sure she would do? I should have to clear out of Montalta, for I could not bear that--flesh and blood could not stand it--particularly a man who loved her as madly as I did. The very thought of it well nigh drove me beside myself. God help me for a miserable71 man, if ever there was one.
The sun was low as I drove up to the head station. There was a thundery look about the sky that seemed to prophesy72 rough weather in the very near future, and I thanked my stars it was not my fate to have to camp out that night. From what I could judge of it, it looked very much like being a repetition of that eventful one on which I had seen Moira for the first time, dripping, dishevelled, and well-nigh driven mad with terror. I had rescued her then and had brought her to my home, for what? Well, so far as I could judge, for no other reason than to break my heart. And that through the instrumentality of my best friend. It was the irony73 of fate with a vengeance74. I had never loved before, and now that I had met the one woman of all the world for me, she had preferred another to me. For the first time since I had known it, I could find it in my heart to wish that I had never seen or heard of Montalta and that Flaxman and I had never met.
As I have explained earlier in my story, the homestead of Montalta is approached by a circuitous75 drive--track would perhaps be a better description--which winds through the horse paddock, then passes through some rather fine timber up to the plateau on which the house itself is situated76. Needless to say there are gates on either side of the small horse paddock, and as I had no one with me it was necessary for me to get down and open them for myself. I had crossed the paddock and had alighted to open the second, which led into the belt of timber above mentioned, when the sound of voices reached my ears. I recognised them instantly; in fact, there could be no mistaking them. Loth though I was to do so, I could not help overhearing a sentence or two of what they said. It was Flaxman talking.
“But, my dear Moira,” he was saying, “forgive me if I say that I cannot understand why you should feel in this way about the matter. I am quite sure that if you will only have patience all will come right in the end.”
“No! No! It can never come right,” was Moira’s sobbing77 reply. “I must go, come what may.”
“Such a thing is not to be thought of for a minute,” Flaxman retorted quickly. “I would not hear of it. Do you want to break my heart? If so, you’re going the right way to work to do it.”
What reply she made to this I cannot say, for they were now too far off for me to hear, even if I wished to play the part of eavesdropper78 any longer, which I am quite sure that I did not. I accordingly propped79 the gate open and led my horses through, closing it after me. In order to give the pair time to get well away, I did not hurry myself, and when I remounted to my seat in the buggy I allowed them to walk the remainder of the distance for the same reason. What did it all mean? Why was Moira crying, and, still more important, why did she insist on the necessity of her going away from Montalta? Here was a nice riddle80 they had given me to solve. That she was unhappy, there could not be the least doubt, but what was it that had made her so? I vowed81 that, come what might, I would find out, and before very long, too.
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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stewed
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| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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absolved
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| 宣告…无罪，赦免…的罪行，宽恕…的罪行( absolve的过去式和过去分词 )； 不受责难，免除责任 [义务] ,开脱（罪责） | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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devoted
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thoroughly
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pastry
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pliable
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simile
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complimentary
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cracker
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metaphorically
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alluded
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heartily
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croaking
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ascended
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sitting-room
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vaguely
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homely
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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pettishly
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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remonstrate
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| v.抗议，规劝 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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ration
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| n.定量(pl.)给养，口粮；vt.定量供应 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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reciprocated
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| v.报答，酬答( reciprocate的过去式和过去分词 )；（机器的部件）直线往复运动 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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capering
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的现在分词 )；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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prophesy
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| v.预言；预示 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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circuitous
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| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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eavesdropper
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| 偷听者 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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