“What do you want her for, Snowball?” I asked, hoping that she would make her appearance while I was talking to him and thus enable me to get our first interview over in the presence of a third party, even if that third party did happen to be a black fellow. I repeated my question as to what he wanted with Miss Moira.
“Want melcin (medicine) longa me, mine think it,” was the whining4 reply. After which he continued, “Plenty bad this fella. Mine think it got ‘um debbil-debbil (devil-devil).”
At this moment the lady for whom he was waiting, and whom the tame blacks of the district had come to regard as a physician of extraordinary cleverness, made her appearance from the house. Seeing me, she looked at me in a timid way, for all the world as if she were frightened as to what I might be going to say to her. Her eyes showed traces of recent tears, and when she spoke5 I noticed that her voice was not as steady as usual. It could have been no small matter that had brought about this state of things.
“Well, Snowball,” she began, “what is it now? Have you been drinking rum again? You promised me you would never do so again. Do you remember that?”
“Not rum, Missis,” the native replied. “Very bad this fella. Like ‘um die mine think it.”
He began to groan6 and rub himself as if in proof of his assertion.
“Why do you bother yourself with him?” I asked. “The fellow is only imposing7 on you. That rascal8 at the River Bend grog shanty9 has been letting him have rum again, and this is the result. Leave me to deal with him. I have some medicine by me that I fancy will about meet his case.”
“No! no!” she answered, with a forced smile. “I cannot let you play with him, but if some day when you are passing that way you would call in and give that rascal Giles a good talking to it would be more to the point. It does seem a shame that, in spite of all the warnings he has received on the subject, he should persist in giving this poison to these poor creatures. It maddens them, and then they come to me to be put right again. If I were a man I should feel inclined to horsewhip him. He richly deserves it, if ever a man did.”
“Even that might be managed without very much difficulty,” I replied, feeling that in my present humour it would do me a vast amount of good to treat the man in question in the manner she suggested. “I’ll bear it in mind the next time I’m passing that way, and it won’t be my fault if the scoundrel does not remember it for at least a week or two. I’ve had a rod in pickle10 for him for some time past. You let me catch you down at the grog shanty, Snowball, and I’ll give you waddy till your own lubra won’t know you. Don’t you forget that.”
The black whined11 something to the effect that he had not been near the place in question, but Miss Moira cut him short by telling him to remain quietly where he was until she brought him some medicine. She there-upon returned into the house, and I followed her. We had scraped through our first interview safely; I had now to meet Flaxman and see how he would comport12 himself towards me. If he could look me in the face as calmly as he was wont13 to do, then I should know him for one of the most consummate14 actors I had ever come in contact with.
We did not meet, however, quite as soon as I expected, for he had gone down to give an order at the men’s hut and did not return for upwards15 of an hour. When he did he went straight to his room, so that I did not get an opportunity of speaking to him before the evening meal. When we did meet, Miss Moira was in the room, so that conversation, save on everyday topics, was impossible. That, for some reason or another, he was ill at ease I could plainly see, not only from his disjointed conversation, but from the way in which he glanced almost apprehensively17 from time to time at Miss Moira, who sat pale and, so it seemed to me, care-worn at the further end of the table. All things considered, it could not have been looked upon as a cheerful meal, and I think we were all united in attributing this to the departure of Mrs. Dawson, who thus, for once in her life at least, became of real use to her fellow humans.
Our meal finished, we adjourned18 as usual to the sitting-room19 next door, but on this occasion, and not a little to my surprise, there was no suggestion of any music. Flaxman ensconced himself in an easy chair with a scientific work he had received by that day’s mail, Miss Moira occupied herself with her sewing, while I endeavoured to interest myself in the pages of the Australasian, and failed signally in the attempt. Taken altogether, we were as miserable21 a trio as could have been found between Cape22 York and Sydney Heads. Once I did my best to promote conversation on the subject of a notorious forgery23 case then sub judice. The effort, however, was in vain. Miss Moira frankly24 confessed that she knew nothing about it, while Flaxman propounded25 a theory which was absurd to the borders of lunacy, and which proved to me beyond a doubt that he had not paid the least attention to what I had been talking about. Thus discouraged, I succumbed26 to the general inertia27. About ten o’clock Miss Moira rose, and saying that she was tired, went off to bed. As she gave me her hand, I looked into her face, but her eyes would not meet mine. She glanced swiftly up at me and then down at the floor--I could feel that she was trembling, though why she should have done so I could not for the life of me imagine. She knew well enough that I was her friend, that there was nothing I would not do to help her at any cost to myself. And from what I could see of it, she stood badly in need of help just then, if ever a girl did. Then the door closed upon her, and she was gone. Flaxman and I were alone together.
It is all very well to make up your mind that you will do a thing which is unpleasant but necessary; it is quite another to do it. I found it so in this case. I was fully28 determined29 that as soon as a fitting opportunity presented itself I would take the bull by the horns and ask my partner straight out what he believed to be the matter with the girl. But now that the actual moment arrived for carrying that scheme into practice I found myself shirking it like the despicable coward that I was. And yet I knew in my heart of hearts that the question must not only be put, but also that it must be answered, and that without delay. The mere30 thought that Miss Moira had declared her intention of leaving the station made this imperative31. But how was I to begin? Flaxman was still engaged with his book, pausing now and again to verify a calculation or to mark a passage for future reference. The clock ticked steadily32 on the mantelpiece and the logs crackled in the fireplace. That was the only sound to be heard in the room. At last I could bear the suspense33 no longer.
“You seem to be very interested in that book,” I said, by way of making a beginning.
“I am,” he answered, without looking up. “I’ve always been fond of mathematics. The subject has a great fascination34 for me. Under other circumstances I fancy I might have made a name for myself in that line of study. As it is--well, you know the rest.”
He gave a queer sort of a smile and a shrug35 of the shoulders, as much as to say, “See what I have come down to.”
I knocked the ashes out of my pipe against the side of the fireplace and then slowly refilled it. Now that the crucial moment had come I wanted to gain time.
“I say, Flaxman,” I began, “there’s something I want to ask you. I should have done so earlier in the evening, but I did not have an opportunity.”
“What is it you want to ask me?” said Flaxman, closing his book, but keeping the place with his finger. He must have realised from my manner that something out of the common was about to happen. Possibly he may have guessed what it was.
“Have you noticed any change lately in Miss Moira?” I inquired, feeling that I was now fairly committed.
“What sort of change do you mean?” he replied. “Don’t you think she looks well?”
“I am not referring to her bodily health,” I answered. “But it seems to me that she is not as happy as she used to be. Tonight, for instance, she scarcely spoke, unless she was spoken to.”
“Very possibly she may have a headache,” he continued. “The day has been thundery, and, as you know, that usually upsets her.”
“But I am convinced that she is fretting36, that she is unhappy about something,” I went on. “One had only to look at her face at dinner to see that she had been crying. Now, what made her cry? Have you any sort of idea? You have been more in her company to-day than I have, so surely you must have noticed something.”
Flaxman hesitated before he replied, and I could not but notice the fact. My suspicions were momentarily increasing. He was in the secret, and he was acting37 a part in order if possible to put me off the scent38. But I was determined to penetrate39 the mystery if I could manage it.
“My dear old fellow,” he went on, “you give me credit for more penetration40 than I possess. I certainly have been in her company a good deal to-day, and have noticed, I confess, that she did not seem quite as cheerful as usual, but I am quite unable to tell you what occasioned it. You refuse, you see, to accept my suggestion with regard to the thunder.”
“Because I am quite sure it has nothing whatsoever42 to do with it,” I replied. “Thundery weather may have a depressing effect, and I know that she is susceptible43 to its influences, but it does not make her eyes swollen44 with crying or depress her to such an extent that she will not speak and scarcely dares to look her friends in the face. No! old man, there’s more behind this than meets the eye, and you know it. If she is in any sort of trouble, I think I have a right to share the secret with you. It is not fair to let me be kept in the dark like this.”
“But, my dear fellow, what should put it into your head that you are being kept in the dark, or that there is any secret which you ought to share in? You are taking matters far too seriously, believe me, you are. Remember, after all, she is little more than a girl, and girls are the slaves of all sorts of whims46 and fancies. Doubtless, you will find that she will be quite herself tomorrow, and you, on your side, will be laughing at yourself for having been so concerned about her.”
Plausible47 as all this was, it did not in the least shake my conviction, not only that there was something wrong, but also that Flaxman was aware of it. The fact that he would not confess it, or share his knowledge with me, fairly roused my temper. It was not fair to me. If he loved her and she loved him, why on earth did he not say so straight out and let me know the truth? Then, at least, I should be aware how I stood. As it was, I was neither one thing nor the other. I loved Moira with all the strength of which my nature was capable, but how could I tell her this, feeling as I did that her love was given to another? For the same reason, although I knew that she was unhappy, I could not interfere48 or attempt to set matters right. All that was needed was that Flaxman should speak out, which was the one thing of all others that I could not induce him to do. I determined, however, to make one more endeavour. If that failed, there would be nothing for it, but to let matters take their own course and abide49 by the result. The prospect50 was by no means cheering.
“It’s all very well for you to be so certain that there is nothing wrong,” I said at last, “but, for my part, I am sure there is. The girl is not herself at all. The first opportunity I get I shall try to induce her to confide51 in me and to tell me what her trouble is. It is evident you don’t care.”
He once more closed his book and looked up at me, steadily and unflinchingly. Had I not been angry and therefore a fool I should have seen in his face that all my suppositions, such as they were, were wrong. However, the most obvious is as often as not the least discernible; the small deer sees what the elephant overlooks. And it was so in my case.
“What makes you think I do not care?” he asked very slowly. “Does it not strike you that that is rather a strange thing to say, seeing that Miss Moira and I are friends?”
Then I lost my temper altogether: his manner was more than I could possibly put up with.
“Are you quite sure that you’re not something more than friends?” I sneered52. “Oh, you need not think you can put me off the scent. I am a little wiser than you suppose me to be. I haven’t knocked about the world without learning to keep my eyes open.”
“By heavens, this is too bad,” he cried, springing to his feet and almost overturning his chair as he did so. “Are you mad that you talk to me like this? I’ll not put up with it. It is more than flesh and blood can stand. I never thought you, of all men, would have said such things to me.”
“I notice that you do not deny the truth of my words, although you object to them,” I went on, my temper rising momentarily higher. “That, I should say, would be more to the point.”
He threw at me a look which I shall not forget to my dying day. I can read its meaning now, in the light of after events, but I was too much beside myself with rage to do so then.
“You are insulting me,” was all he said, and made as if he would leave the room. “If you do not respect me, you might at least respect her. Some day, I pledge you my word, you will be sorry for this. But it will be too late then.”
Surely the spirit of prophecy must have been upon him at that moment, for what he predicted then has certainly come to pass, to my bitter shame be it said. Yet, God help me, could that scene be re-acted, I fear I should again behave as I did then. It is a pitiful confession53 to have to make, but, alas20! it is the truth. But to continue my narrative54.
I have said that Flaxman made as if he would leave the room. He did not do so at once, however, but stood at the door for a few moments, looking back at me with an expression of deepest reproach upon his face. Then he passed out, leaving me in the room alone.
“Let him go, the sneaking55 hound,” I muttered, for I am determined to set everything down. “He little thinks what I heard down at the gate this afternoon. However, he has not done with me yet. If I can be nothing else to her I can at least stand by her like a brother, and, by heaven, I will too--so let my fine gentleman beware of me. I’m a man, not a school-miss, as he’ll find to his cost.”
Patting myself on the back thus, I mixed myself a stiff glass of grog and tossed it off. Under its magic influence I began to see matters in an even clearer light than before. I recalled little circumstances which had hitherto escaped my memory, and which now only served to increase the load of guilt56 my unhappy partner was carrying. A second glass of grog convinced me beyond all possibility of doubt that it behoved me to call him to account for his treatment of the girl--always, of course, in my self-appointed capacity of brother. A third showed me how happy I might have been with her had fate been kinder; after which I went off to bed firmly resolved to set matters right on the morrow.
On the morrow, as it happened, I rose with a splitting headache and a general feeling that nothing was right with the world. On first waking I had only a confused idea of all that had occurred on the previous night. Then, as memory returned to me, I began to realise something of the serious nature of affairs. One thing was quite certain, and that was the fact that Flaxman and I must come to some definite understanding on the subject as to which we had fallen out. Until that was done, life would be well nigh unendurable for both of us. As for myself, I had not abated58 one jot59 of my determination to champion Miss Moira’s cause; if anything, my intention to do so was even more firmly rooted than before.
It was a strange trio that sat down to breakfast that morning. I was not hungry, Flaxman scarcely touched anything, while Miss Moira presided at the tea tray, but, beyond playing with an infinitesimal piece of toast, made no pretence60 of eating at all. I could see from the furtive61 glances she stole at both of us from time to time that she knew that there was something amiss with us and that she feared it was on her account. To try and divert her thoughts I started some topic of conversation, I forget what. Flaxman joined in it, probably with the same intention, and for perhaps a minute and a half all went well, then it dwindled62 down, no one offered any further remark, and quiet reigned63 once more. None of us had the pluck to start a fresh subject, so the remainder of the meal was eaten in silence. I was the first to rise, Miss Moira next, and Flaxman last. I informed the company generally that I should not be in to lunch, as I had made up my mind to ride out into the back country to see how much damage the flood had done. I fancied I detected a look of relief on the faces of my two companions, and the thought was far from pleasing to me. It was evident that they deemed me safest out of the way; at any rate, for the present. No man likes it to be thought that his company is not welcome, and it was certainly so in my case. They wanted to get rid of me, did they? Well, they should do so. But his star help Flaxman if he played me false in my absence! The vengeance64 I would take in that case would be one that he would not be likely to forget for many a long day to come. Poor blind fool that I was, I still persisted in believing that all I did was right, and that all they did was wrong. For pig-headed obstinacy65 a mountain--battery mule66 could have given me points and a beating.
Having announced my programme for the day, I lit my pipe, and calling up one of my terriers, of which I had about half a dozen, I left the house and strode off to the store, before which a group of the hands was waiting for their tasks to be allotted67 them. When I had made my arrangements, and had selected two of their number to accompany me, a move was made to the stockyard, where the black boys had run up the horses. In something under a quarter of an hour all had dispersed68 in various directions, and I and my companions were riding down the track that led along the valley towards the part of the run I was anxious to inspect. It was a perfect winter’s morning, as winters are reckoned in that part of the world. The dew lay heavy on the grass and bushes, and the mist of morning was drawing off the hill tops before the increasing heat of the sun. Pink-breasted galas, disturbed by us, rose like clouds before us and wheeled high above our heads in the brilliant light, turning from white to pink and back again to white, to settle on some new feeding ground a mile or so away to our right. Now and again a great blundering kangaroo would go skipping across our path, pursued at a respectful distance by the terriers, who knew too much to endeavour to come to close quarters with those terrible hind45 legs. A young wallaby sat on a rock and studied us attentively69, then scratched his nose with his absurd little paws, cast an apprehensive16 glance at the dogs, came to the conclusion that they were not to be trusted, and disappeared from view with one bound, much to the amazement70 of a flock of white cockatoos, who shrieked71 discordantly72 at him from the neighbouring tree-tops. It was just the morning for a ride, and on any other morning I should have thoroughly73 enjoyed it. On this particular occasion, however, I could see nothing good in it. Everything was distorted and warped74 by the fire that was raging within me. I could not see any beauty in the landscape, or feel any warmth in the sunshine. Beyond giving some instructions to the men who accompanied me, I don’t think I spoke half a dozen words in the first ten miles. The very tobacco I was smoking did not seem to taste the same as usual, nor did the animal I was riding, my favourite hack75 by the way, appear in any better spirits than myself. And that reminds me, I wonder if you have ever noticed, I have done so times out of number, how quickly a horse who is accustomed to you gets to know the sort of humour you are in and immediately adapts himself to it? Perhaps you mount him on some fine spring morning, full of life and the joy of living. He knows the feeling and reciprocates76 it, tosses his head, plays with his bit, and passages just to show you that he is as ready for a gallop77 in the fresh bracing78 air as you are. On the other hand, we will suppose that you are depressed79, out of spirits, and not inclined for boisterous80 fun; observe then how he adapts himself to these altered circumstances. He proceeds soberly upon his way, as if he were wondering what he could do in his small way to help you, and has at last come to the conclusion that the best line for him to adopt would be to carry you discreetly81, neither too fast nor too slow, and to wait with equine patience for the cloud to lift from your shoulders and for the sunshine to burst forth82 once more. No, I shall never be convinced that horses do not understand a man’s feelings almost as well as he does himself. Why, of course they do!
It was close upon eleven o’clock by the time we reached the place I was anxious to inspect. The flood which I had been dreading83 had not done as much damage as I had expected; nevertheless there were several matters which required attention; several panels of fencing had in one place been washed away, and the gap thus made required to be filled in to prevent the cattle getting through into the adjoining property; further down two beasts were discovered bogged84 and too much exhausted85 to extricate86 themselves from what would, undoubtedly87, have meant certain death to them had we not providentially arrived upon the scene when we did. Next, there was the stockman’s hut to be visited at the Twelve Mile Crossing and the list of his wants to be obtained against the next despatch88 of the ration41 cart. To the tale of his woes89 I paid no attention, for the man, though a hard worker, was a born grumbler90, and had I had the patience to stop and listen to him I should without a doubt have been induced to believe that of all the sons of men he was by a great deal the most miserable.
An eight mile ride along the boundary brought us to the coach track, and a mile further on to the mail change, where, for the good of the house and other politic91 reasons, I pulled up and treated the men to a glass of grog each, to which you may be sure they offered no sort of objection. After that we resumed our ride until we once more saw the roofs of the head station rising before us. As we came closer I found an unaccountable nervousness coming over me. I tried to explain it away, but in vain.
On reaching the store I dismounted and having unsaddled my horse turned him loose. For upwards of a minute I stood watching him as he trotted92 off to join his comrades, and then turned to enter the store, expecting to find Flaxman there. I was met, however, on the doorstep by the storekeeper, who informed me that my partner had gone up to the house some few minutes before my arrival. He asked if there was anything he could do for me, but I told him no, I would go in search of Flaxman myself. Heavy clouds had been threatening us all the afternoon, and as I walked towards the house rain commenced to fall. It was growing dark, and the wind moaned drearily93 through the scrub timber behind the homestead, as if with the desire of making me even more miserable than I was already. If the truth must be told, I was suffering from about as bad an attack of the blues94 as a man could well experience, and, so far as I could see, there did not appear to be any prospect of matters improving--a pleasant look-out for all parties concerned. Miss Moira’s sorrowful face had been haunting me all day long, and now I seemed to be able to see it gazing at me in the gathering95 gloom. According to my usual custom, I made my way to my bedroom and changed my things before going on to the sitting-room. On this occasion it was a matter of necessity, for I was not only wet, but plastered with mud from head to foot. I could well imagine Miss Moira’s housewifely horror should she catch me tramping about her spotless floors with such grimy boots as I was wearing.
Having brought myself within a measurable distance of a civilised being once more, I left my room and proceeded to that in which I felt sure I should find the others. Somewhat to my surprise Flaxman had the apartment to himself. He was standing57 at the window, his hands behind his back. His head was bowed, and his whole bearing spoke of the deepest dejection. In his right hand he held a letter. Was it something contained in that that was agitating96 him so? I was soon to learn.
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dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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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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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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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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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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pickle
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| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
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whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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comport
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| vi.相称，适合 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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consummate
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upwards
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apprehensive
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apprehensively
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adjourned
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| （使）休会， （使）休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sitting-room
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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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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cape
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forgery
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frankly
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propounded
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succumbed
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inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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fully
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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mere
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imperative
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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36
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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39
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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40
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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41
ration
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| n.定量(pl.)给养，口粮；vt.定量供应 | |
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42
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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46
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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47
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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48
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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49
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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50
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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51
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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52
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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54
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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56
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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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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abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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59
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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67
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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71
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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discordantly
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| adv.不一致地，不和谐地 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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reciprocates
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| n.报答，酬答( reciprocate的名词复数 )；（机器的部件）直线往复运动v.报答，酬答( reciprocate的第三人称单数 )；（机器的部件）直线往复运动 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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79
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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80
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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81
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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82
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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83
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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84
bogged
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| adj.陷于泥沼的v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的过去式和过去分词 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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85
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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86
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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87
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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88
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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89
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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90
grumbler
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| 爱抱怨的人，发牢骚的人 | |
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91
politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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92
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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93
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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94
blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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95
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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96
agitating
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| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
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