On seeing me I noticed that he thrust the letter he held in his hand into his pocket, as if he did not desire that I should become aware of its existence. Whatever anything else might be, that scrap6 of paper at least had an important bearing on the affair.
“There is a letter for you upon the mantelpiece,” he said, doing his level best, I could see, to speak calmly, and succeeding very badly in the attempt. “You had better open it.”
I turned to the place in question and found there an envelope addressed with my name. I knew well enough before I opened it from whom it came, though, strange to say, I had never seen Miss Moira’s writing before. During the time she had been with us, she had neither written nor received any letters, so that there had been no chance of my becoming familiar with her penmanship. I took it down and opened it with a sinking heart. I could guess what it contained before I started to read a word. I remembered her cry on the previous day--“I must go away! I must go away!” The letter was a short one--only a few brief sentences. It read as follows:--
“DEAR FRIEND,--Before you receive this I shall have left Montalta for ever. I feel now that I was wrong ever to have come. But how thankful I am to you for all you have done for me, I think you know. I shall always pray to God to bless you for it. Good-bye.
“Your grateful friend.
“MOIRA PENDRAGON.
“P.S.--I beg of you not to attempt to find me, for I assure you your search will be in vain.”
For more than a minute I stood looking at the paper in my hand and trying to collect my thoughts. Moira gone! Could such a thing be possible? Were we never to see her again? These were the questions that tumbled over each other in wild confusion in my brain. What was the reason of it all? She had seemed so happy with us until the last week or so, that no one would have dreamt she was on the verge7 of leaving us. The whole thing was incomprehensible to me; it was more than that, it was unbelievable. At last I found my voice. Addressing Flaxman, who was still standing8 at the window, I said, “What hand had you in this?” He looked at me in amazement9, as if he marvelled10 that I could ask such a question.
“What hand had I in it?” he repeated. “Good God, man, do you want to drive me mad with your questions? If so, you’re going the right way to work to do it, I can tell you that. Do you think I drove her away from the place? Do you think it was by my wish that she went away from comfort to misery11, perhaps to starvation? Great heavens, I would have given all I possess in this world to have been able to prevent it. She gave me no hint of her intention or I should have done my utmost to stop her, whatever the consequences might have been. Surely you know me well enough for that. If not, you’re far from being the friend I took you to be.”
I laughed scornfully, and as I did so I saw his face flush crimson12. To think that we should ever have come to such a pass as this. It seemed well-nigh inconceivable.
“This is just the right time to talk of friendship, isn’t it?” I cried, with scathing13 irony14. “I admire your good plain commonsense15. Perhaps you would like to discuss Shakespeare and the musical glasses while you are about it? There is nothing like putting in one’s time profitably. You regret that she has left us; you would have prevented it had you known. Yet you were on the spot and knew nothing of it. The consequences would have been nothing to you, you declare. Well, you have the consequences to amuse yourself with now, if they are of any solace16 to you. Bah! I believe you knew it all the time; I believe that you connived17 at it. John Flaxman, I have had my suspicions for some time past, and now they have been confirmed. Let me tell you to your face that I distrust you from the bottom of my heart. Now I’ve said it and the murder’s out.”
He took a step towards me, his hand raised as if he would strike me. His face was now white as a sheet and I could distinctly hear his breath come in gasps18.
“You dare to tell me that you believe I connived at her leaving this place?” he cried, his voice almost guttural with passion. It is the quiet man whose anger is most deadly when once thoroughly19 roused. “Then I tell you you lie, and that you know it.”
“Show me that letter in your pocket then,” I retorted. “Let me see that before I believe that you have no hand in it.”
His expression and his manner changed as if by magic. The hand he had raised dropped to his side and his face began to flush once more.
There was a short pause, after which he said hesitatingly, as if he were not sure of the reception his words would receive:--
“I cannot show it to you.”
“You cannot show it to me,” I echoed mockingly. “That is good news, indeed, and may I be permitted to ask the reason that prompts that decision? There is my letter,” (here I threw it down upon the table for him to see). “You are quite at liberty to read it, if you please. Why may I not see yours in return?”
“Because I cannot show it to you,” he replied doggedly20. “It would be abusing a confidence were I to do so. I must ask you to accept the explanation for what it is worth. I can give you no other.”
“I can quite believe that,” I sneered21, “and I will take it for what it is worth--which is nothing, literally22 nothing. You know that as well as I do. You have already told me that you were not aware that she contemplated23 leaving us, yet a thought has just struck me which may throw some light on the case. Possibly you may remember that last week you talked of paying the South a visit in a few weeks. Doubtless you will do so now. It is a pretty little plot, but it seems to me as if it has miscarried somewhere.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, staring at me with dilated24 eyes. “What is this vile25 thing you are endeavouring to insinuate26? Speak out like a man and say what you have in your mind. You can’t insult me more than you have done already. What do you charge me with?”
“I charge you with nothing. I make no insinuations. I simply leave you to your own conscience. You can settle with that.”
“I demand that you shall tell me what you meant when you said that,” he repeated angrily. “I do not want any further subterfuges27. You have brought forward the fact that I talked of going South in connection with this affair, and I wish to know what you mean by it. You shall tell me, even if I have to force you into doing so. As a gentleman, I put you on your honour to do so.”
I had not bargained for this, but my blood was up and I was reckless as to the consequences.
“Very well, since you will have it, I’ll speak out as you bid me,” I answered defiantly28. “What I charge you with is inducing Miss Moira to leave this house in order that you may meet her elsewhere. The reason that prompts such hole-and--corner work is best known to yourself.”
The words had scarcely left my lips before he had sprung at me, and had struck me such a severe blow upon the mouth that I could feel the blood trickling29 down my chin a moment later. The force with which it was dealt was sufficient to drive me back a couple of paces. Then, may God forgive me, I knocked him down. It was done in a fit of passion it is true, and in return for a blow dealt to me, but I give you my word, sworn by all I hold sacred, that if I could recall it now, I would willingly lose the hand that gave it. For a moment he lay upon the floor as if stunned30, then he staggered to his feet. Having done so, he gave utterance31 to this extraordinary confession:--
“You did right,” he said, speaking calmly and deliberately32, as if he had carefully worked the matter out. “I forgot myself and struck you; you only punished me according to my deserts.”
To my eternal shame be it set down that my only reply was a laugh. Idiot that I was, I imagined he had been frightened by my blow and had turned craven. Now, of course, I can see it all in the proper light. But then I was so blinded by my jealousy33 and the hatred34 it engendered35 in me, that I was incapable36 of believing in anything or anybody.
“Now that you know what I think,” I answered, “I’ll leave you to chew your cud in peace. I hope your reflections may bring you happiness. You may expect me back when you see me.”
So saying I flung out of the room, and in less than a quarter of an hour was galloping37 down the track in the direction of the township. At the best of times it was none too safe a road, but in the pitch-blackness of a stormy night it was positively38 dangerous. I gave no thought to that, however, but rode as if for my life, regardless of everything save my whirling, maddening thoughts, my love for Moira, and my hatred of the man who, I implicitly39 believed, had robbed me of her. My only regret now was that I had not thrashed him more severely40, as soundly indeed as I believed that he deserved.
Overhead the storm roared, the wind lashing41 the trees with remorseless fury. The lightning flashed, the thunder crashed, while now and again in the lulls43 I could hear the tumult44 of the torrent45 in the valley below me. It was such another night as Tam--o’-Shanter must have been abroad in, and again such another as that on which I had first met the girl who was the primary cause of my present happiness. How much had happened since that momentous46 night! I had learnt to love, and I had also learnt to hate. I had believed myself one of the happiest of living men, and I now knew myself for one of the most miserable47. To find relief I urged my gallant48 little horse to greater efforts. He was a game beast, and needed no spur to induce him to do his best. Regardless of the state of the track, which as often as not was merely a matter of conjecture49, we sped on and on, sometimes tumbling and slipping, but with never a thought of caution. More than once, nay50, at least a dozen times, a vivid flash of lightning showed me how near I had been to death’s door. Once we were scarcely half a horse’s length from the edge of a deep ravine, through which a swollen51 stream ran like a mill-sluice bounding down the hillside, missed the horse’s head by scarcely two yards, crossed the track and disappeared with a crash into the valley below. The animal’s sudden stop came within an ace4 of throwing me headlong out of the saddle. But even that narrow escape did not steady me.
“Come up, old horse,” I shouted. “We were not born to be killed in that clumsy fashion.”
Once more I set him going. We had put more than ten miles behind us by this time and were within an appreciable52 distance of the township. At the pace we were travelling, all being well, we should be there in less than half an hour. But would, or could, the animal hold out so long, was the question I should have asked myself. But I never thought of it. All I wanted was to get to my destination and into the society of men who could help me to forget what I was suffering. And what was Moira doing meanwhile? She had left the station on foot, so I had ascertained53. Where could she be, then? Wandering in the scrub in all probability, as I had found her on that night when we had first met. I cursed Flaxman again, and rode on even harder than before. The thought of that poor girl wandering alone in the storm maddened me. Why was it Flaxman had not gone to her assistance? Had he told me a lie, I wondered, or was he tired of her and resolved to abandon her to her fate? Suspicion induced me to believe the first; common humanity forbade me to credit the second. No man could surely be such an out-and-out scoundrel as that. However, it was no business of mine now. All I had to do was to endeavour to forget that we had ever met.
At last and none too soon, for my horse was completely done for, I saw ahead of me the lights of the little township twinkling like so many stars on the plain. Thank goodness, we were there at last. From the point where one obtains the first view of the little settlement the track slopes somewhat steeply for between half and three--quarters of a mile. The main street of the township, if street indeed it can be called, consisting as it does of three hotels (save the mark!), a blacksmith’s shop, two stores, a policestation, and half a dozen wooden cottages, is as broad as any in the Empire, and probably muddier than most. After a storm, such as was then raging, it is well nigh impassable, either for man or beast.
“At last, at last,” I muttered to myself as I galloped54 down the hill. “If I don’t make this rat-hole of a place sit up to-night, it won’t be my fault. I can assure them of that. Hold up, old horse, I know you’re done for, but in a few minutes you shall rest for as long as you like.”
I little guessed how true my words were destined55 to prove. As I entered the street the poor beast reeled and almost fell. A few yards further on he did so again; then, within a dozen paces of the verandah of the “Jolly Bushman,” he gave a lurch56, pitched forward on his head, and rolled over, almost crushing me beneath him. Covered with mud, I scrambled57 to my feet; but the horse lay just as he had fallen, his neck stretched out and his breath coming in long gasps.
“God help me, I’ve done for a better brute58 than myself,” I muttered as I looked down at him. “I’ve ridden him to death.”
At that moment the landlord of the inn made his appearance in the verandah with a lantern. I hailed him, and he immediately came out to me.
“Why, surely it’s never you,” he cried, when he became aware of my identity. “You’re just about the last person I expected to see on a rough night like this. What does it all mean? Nothing wrong at Montalta, I hope? Bless my heart, just look at your horse now! Why, he’s clean knocked out of time. You’ve fair ridden him to a standstill, if you haven’t done worse. Here, hold the lantern while I have a look at him. You’ve some rare good cattle over at your place, and you don’t want to lose any of them.”
While I held the lantern he knelt down in the mud beside the horse and carefully examined him. As he did so the animal half raised his head, gave a long groan59, and then lay still. The fat little publican rose to his feet.
“It’s no use bothering any more about him,” he said. “He’s done his last journey. I’ll get a couple of my lads to pull him into the yard for to-night. The saddle and bridle60 we’ll take inside.”
Poor old horse, he had paid the penalty of a man’s anger, and here was the result. How often is it not the way! A hasty deed, a fit of anger, a wrong impulse momentarily gratified, and as often as not some innocent man or beast is drawn61 into the net and directly or indirectly62 may be called upon by fate to suffer for it. I had an excellent example before me now.
I followed the landlord into the hotel and made for the bar, which I found crowded to its utmost holding capacity. A shout of welcome greeted me, for I had not been in there for upwards63 of a year. By way of setting the ball rolling, I called for drinks all round. From that moment I put all thought of Montalta, of Moira, and of Flaxman behind me. Nothing mattered now, I told myself. Let care go to the deuce, I cried. Whatever the upshot might be, I was determined64 to enjoy myself, and in so doing to forget the past. But I was destined to make a discovery that many men had made before me, namely, that care is not so easily relegated65 to the background as some folk would imagine. However successful one may think oneself at night, there is always a to-morrow to be considered, and experience proves that that selfsame to--morrow possesses the unhappy faculty66 of adding to rather than lessening67 the load of care that is already being carried.
It was almost daylight when we broke up, and yet I was loth to permit anyone to leave, for I feared lest with his going I should find myself in the Slough68 of Despond again. But one by one they dropped away, until the landlord and I found ourselves alone together. Even he, accustomed as he was to late hours, began to think it was time to think of going to bed, and, seeing that there was nothing else for it, I was at length constrained69 to agree with him. I accordingly followed him along the wooden passage to the room in which he had already placed my valise. It was at the corner of the house, and looked out across the little plain towards the ranges through which I had ridden so recklessly that evening. The wind howled mournfully round the corner and the rain lashed42 the roof, as if it were desirous of beating it in. Before commencing to undress I took up the candle and looked at myself in the glass. It was a flushed face I saw there; but I was not thinking of that, I was looking at my still swollen underlip and recalling the circumstances under which I had received it. Then I went to bed and slept soundly until well after ten o’clock. How I hated and despised myself when I woke, I cannot tell you. But that I was weak enough to feel that Flaxman would believe that I was repentant70, I would have borrowed or purchased a fresh horse and have returned to the station as soon as I had breakfasted. The thought that he might do so, when my experience of him should have made me know better, fired me anew, and I vowed71 that, come what might, I would not give him the opportunity of saying that. Rather than do so, I would remain a month in the township if necessary.
Half an hour or so after breakfast some of my companions of the previous night began to drop in; some remained to lunch with me, and began to play billiards72 afterwards; others merely drank their morning draughts73, and then returned to what they somewhat facetiously74 described as their “business,” though I must confess I was completely at a loss to understand what it consisted of, seeing that no one seemed to be stirring in the main street save two drunken station hands, who were quarrelling and preparing for combat at the further end, and the police sergeant’s black cat, which was craftily75 stalking a bird on that functionary’s paling fence. In the evening the usual sort of carouse76 again took place. It was not by any manner of means an edifying77 spectacle. Some of the company were soon hopelessly intoxicated78; some became quarrelsome, some merely maudlin79, others burst into melody without regard to their audience or to the requirements of time or tune80. Among the number present was one man, an overseer on a neighbouring station, who had come in that day with the avowed81 intention of, to use a Bush expression, “knocking his cheque down.” He was doing this to such good purpose that there promised to be but little of it left within the very near future. He was a big, clumsily-built fellow, like myself of Colonial birth, with a crop of brilliant red hair and the largest hands and feet I had ever seen on a human being. He had the reputation of being a bully82 on his own station, and now being well advanced in liquor, it appeared as if he were quite prepared to give us a sample of his powers at a moment’s notice. Milligan was the gentleman’s name, and for some reason or another he had been nicknamed “The Tipperary Boy.” If wildness and a love of fighting went for anything, then the sobriquet83 was certainly an appropriate one.
The evening was well advanced before he favoured me with his attentions. Then when I was engaged in conversation with a quiet little man, who was book-keeper for a squatter84 a few miles out of the town, he came up and sat himself down beside me, smacking85 me familiarly on the back with his enormous right hand as he did so.
“Well, my buck,” he began, “and how’s the world treating you? I haven’t set eyes on you for a month of Sundays. Painting the town red, I suppose, eh? Lord bless you, why didn’t you go down to Sydney? You could have enjoyed yourself there. Now I remember the last time I was down I--” Here he proceeded to favour us with some highly-spiced particulars of his adventures in the New South Wales metropolis86 that would not have discredited87 a Bowery Boy at his best. They not only did not interest me, they bored me nearly to distraction88. He reeled them off one after another until I ceased to pay any attention to him at all, and resumed my talk with my previous companion which he had so rudely interrupted. My temper was none too sweet that evening, and it would have required but small encouragement to have induced me to tell him to go away and leave me in peace. However, I had no desire to create a scene, if not for my own sake, at least for my friend the landlord’s. When once a fight becomes general in a Bush public-house he is a wise man who can tell when it will finish. I have known a whole house wrecked89 on such an occasion, and the owner come within an inch of losing his life for endeavouring to protect his own property. Bush spirits, manufactured as often as not on the premises90, can be trusted to raise the devil that lies dormant91 in most men quicker than anything else I know in this world. And when he is once released, he is seldom to be laid by the heels again until he has been pacified92 with blood. Unless such a thing should be absolutely necessary, I was not going to be the one to give it to him.
For some moments after I turned my back upon him, Milligan continued to talk, apparently93 oblivious94 to the fact that I was no longer listening to him. Then he became aware of what had happened, and an ominous95 silence ensued. In all probability he was endeavouring to make up his mind as to what course of action he should adopt. He knew something of my reputation, and I fancy was aware that I was not the sort of man to stand much nonsense, particularly any attempt at bullying96, such as he was known to be so fond of. Almost in a moment his mood changed to one of the utmost friendliness97. He informed me with an oath that we were the best of pals98, and in figurative language gave me to understand that on the whole he even preferred me to his own brother.
“Why shouldn’t we be friends?” he inquired. “We’ve known each other a long time now. You’ve stayed over at my place and I’ve stayed over at yours.” Then, raising his voice and preceding it with a loud guffaw99, he continued, “I say, old boy, what’s become of that deuced pretty girl I saw over at your place last time I was there? She was a stunner and no mistake, with the rummiest sort of a name that ever I ran up against. What was it now--something like Penny-pop-gun, wasn’t it? I’m sure I disremember,” he added with a grin.
I stared at him in amazement. That he should even have dared to refer to Miss Moira in such company was in itself sufficient to put me into a frenzy100 of rage. To speak of her as Miss Penny-pop-gun was worse than anything.
“I’ll trouble you to leave the lady in question out of the conversation,” I said. “I object to her name being introduced.”
This was the opportunity he wanted, and the fighting element in his blood having now gained the ascendancy101 he was both ready and eager for battle. I consoled myself with the reflection that it would have been bound to come sooner or later.
“So you object to her name being introduced, do you?” he said, mimicking102 me. “Maybe you don’t think we’re good enough to say it. Poor, rough men like us mustn’t presume to speak it. Listen to that, boys.” This last was addressed to the room in general. Some, seeing trouble looming103 ahead had the good sense to hold their tongues; others laughed, as if in appreciation104 of a good joke; while others, who for some reason or another bore me no good will applauded with cries of “Good for you, Tipperary Boy.” Thus encouraged, he turned once more to me with the same diabolical105 grin upon his face.
“Perhaps your lordship wouldn’t mind condescending106 to tell us why we’re not to mention the lady’s name? We all know each other here, and I’ve been intro uiced to the lady myself.”
“You’re not to do it, because I forbid,” I answered. “That should be enough answer for you. If you do you’ll regret it. I can promise you that.”
“To hell with you and your forbids,” he shouted, flourishing his fist. “Who are you to tell me what I shall say or shall not say? I guess I’m as good a judge of what’s what as you are, or anyone else, though I don’t boss it at Montalta like some people.”
It was quite evident that he was fairly spoiling for a fight. If he persisted in his present line of conduct, he would find that I was quite ready to oblige him. However Miss Moira might have treated me, I was not going to have her name bandied about by a lot of drunken rowdies in a township bar-room--it was not likely!
Milligan had done his best to rouse me, and had failed. Now he tried another plan.
“Boss,” he cried to the landlord, “drinks all round. It’s my shout. Hurry along now, for I’m going to propose a toast.”
Realising what he was about to do, a complete silence descended107 on the room, which lasted while the drinks were being served. I rose and faced him; but for reasons of my own declined to partake of his hospitality. Looking round him to see that all the glasses were charged, he shouted, “Boys, here’s a health to Miss Penny--pop-gun, and no heel taps.”
He tossed off the contents of his tumbler, but before he had finished I had tossed the contents of my own full and fair into his face.
“Now,” I said, “since you’re so anxious to receive a lesson, I’ll do my best to oblige you. Landlord, I call you to witness that this fight was forced on me.”
The landlord nodded, and continued to polish his glasses behind the counter as if nothing out of the common was about to happen. Meanwhile, some officious partisans108 had removed the table from the centre of the room in readiness for the conflict.
There are always people to be found who would rather see others fight than do so themselves.
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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clench
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| vt.捏紧（拳头等），咬紧（牙齿等），紧紧握住 | |
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prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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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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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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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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commonsense
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| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
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solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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connived
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| v.密谋 ( connive的过去式和过去分词 )；搞阴谋；默许；纵容 | |
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gasps
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thoroughly
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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literally
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contemplated
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dilated
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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subterfuges
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| n.（用说谎或欺骗以逃脱责备、困难等的）花招，遁词( subterfuge的名词复数 ) | |
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28
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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29
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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30
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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31
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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32
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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33
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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34
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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35
engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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37
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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38
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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39
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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40
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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41
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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42
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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43
lulls
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| n.间歇期（lull的复数形式）vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的第三人称单数形式） | |
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44
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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45
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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46
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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47
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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48
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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49
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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50
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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51
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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52
appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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53
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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55
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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56
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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57
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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58
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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59
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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60
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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61
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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62
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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63
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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65
relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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66
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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67
lessening
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| 减轻，减少，变小 | |
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68
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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71
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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72
billiards
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| n.台球 | |
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73
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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74
facetiously
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| adv.爱开玩笑地；滑稽地，爱开玩笑地 | |
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craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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76
carouse
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| v.狂欢；痛饮；n.狂饮的宴会 | |
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77
edifying
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| adj.有教训意味的，教训性的，有益的v.开导，启发( edify的现在分词 ) | |
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78
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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79
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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80
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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81
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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82
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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83
sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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84
squatter
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| n.擅自占地者 | |
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85
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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86
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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87
discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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88
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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89
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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90
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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91
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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92
pacified
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的过去式和过去分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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93
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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94
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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96
bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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97
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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98
pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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99
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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100
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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101
ascendancy
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| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
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102
mimicking
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的现在分词 )；酷似 | |
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103
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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104
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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105
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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106
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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107
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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108
partisans
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| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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