Having escaped service on half-a-dozen murder trials by shrewd and original responses to important questions by counsel for one side or the other—(it really didn’t matter to Sampson which side it was so long as he saw the loophole)—he found himself at last in the awkward position of having exhausted14 all reasonable excuses, and was obliged to confess one day in court that he had reconsidered his views in regard to capital punishment. This confession15 resulted, of course, in his name being dropped from the “special panel,” for the jury commissioner17 did not want any man in that august body who couldn’t see his way clear to taking the life of another. He “got off” once on the ground that he was quite certain he could not convict on circumstantial evidence, despite the assurance of learned experts that it is the best evidence of all, and he escaped another time because he did not consider insanity18 a defence in homicidal cases.
Then they drew him for Special Sessions and eventually for the humiliating lower courts, the result being that his resourcefulness was under a constant and ever increasing strain. Where once he had experienced a rather pleasing interest in “getting off” in important cases, he now found himself very hard put to escape service in the most trifling19 of criminal trials.
He began to complain bitterly of the injustice20 to himself, an honest, upright citizen who was obliged to live in a constant state of apprehension21. He felt like a hunted animal. He was no sooner safely out of one case when he was called for another.
It was all wrong. Why should he be hounded like this when the city was full of men eager to earn two dollars a day and who would not in the least mind sitting cross-legged and idle all day long in a jury box—snoozing perhaps—in order to do their duty as citizens? Moreover, there were men who actually needed the money, and there were lots of them who were quite as honest as the prisoners on trial or even the witnesses who testified.
He was quite sure that if he ever was sworn in as a juror, his entire sympathy would be with the prisoner at the bar, for he would have a fellow feeling for the unhappy wretch22 who also was there because he couldn’t help it. The jury system was all wrong, claimed Sampson. For example, said he, a man is supposed to be tried by twelve of his peers. That being the case, a ruffian from the lower East Side should be tried by his moral and mental equals and not by his superiors. By the same argument, a brainy, intelligent bank or railway president, an editor, or a college professor, should not be tried by twelve incompetent23 though perfectly24 honest window-washers. Any way you looked at it, the jury system was all wrong. The more Sampson thought about it the more fully25 convinced was he that something ought to be done about it.
He had been obliged to miss two weddings, a private-car jaunt26 to Aiken, one of the Harvard-Yale football matches, the docking of the Olympic when she carried at least one precious passenger, the sailing of the Cedric when she carried an equally precious but more exacting27 object of interest, a chance to meet the Princess Pat, and a lot of other things that he wouldn’t have missed for anything in the world notwithstanding the fact that he couldn’t remember, off hand, just what they were. Suffice it to say, this miserable28 business of “getting off” juries kept Sampson so occupied that he found it extremely difficult to get on with anything else.
He was above trying to “fix” any one. Other men, he knew, had some one downtown who could get them off with a word to the proper person, and others were of sufficient importance politically to make it impossible for them to be in contempt of court. That’s what he called “fixing things.”
Shortly after the holidays he was served with a notice to appear and be examined as to his fitness to serve as juror in the case of the State vs. James W. Hildebrand. Now, he had made all his arrangements for a trip to California. In fact, he planned to leave New York on the twenty-first of January, and here he was being called into court on the twentieth. Something told him that the presiding justice was sure to be one of those who had witnessed one or more of his escapes from service on previous occasions, and that the honourable29 gentleman in the long black gown would smile sadly and shake his head if he protested that he was obliged to get off because he had to go to California for his health. The stupidest judge on earth would know at a glance that Sampson didn’t have to go anywhere for his health. He really had more of it than was good for him.
If he hadn’t been so healthy he might have relished30 an occasional fortnight of indolence in a drowsy31, stuffy32, little court-room with absolutely nothing to do but to look at the clock and wonder, with the rest of the jurors, how on earth the judge contrived33 to wake up from a sound sleep whenever a point came up for decision and always to settle it so firmly, so confidently, so promptly34 that even the lawyers were fooled into believing that he had been awake all the time.
Sampson entered the little court-room at 9:50 o’clock on the morning of the twentieth.
He was never to forget the morning of the twentieth.
Fifteen or twenty uneasy, sour-faced men, of all ages, sizes and condition sat outside the railing, trying to look unconcerned. They couldn’t fool him. He knew what they were and he knew that in the soul of each lurked35 the selfish, cruel prayer that twelve men would be snatched from among them and stuffed into the jury box to stay before the clerk could draw his own dreaded36 name from the little box at his elbow.
Other men came in and shuffled37 into chairs. The deputy clerk of the court emerged from somewhere and began fussing with the papers on his desk. Every man there envied him. He had a nice job, and he looked as though he rather liked being connected with an inhuman38 enterprise. He was immune. He was like the man who already has had smallpox39. Lazy court attendants in well-worn uniforms ambled40 about freely. They too were envied. They were thoroughly41 court-broken. A couple of blithe42, alert looking young men from the district attorney’s office came and, with their hands in their pockets, stared blandly43 at the waiting group, very much as the judges at a live-stock show stare at the prize pigs, sheep and cattle. They seemed to be appraising44 the supply on hand and, to judge by their manner, they were not at all favourably46 impressed with the material. Indeed, they looked unmistakably annoyed. It was bad enough to have to select a jury in any event, but to have to select one from this collection of ignoramuses was—well, it was too much!
The hour hand on the clock said ten o’clock, but everybody was watching the minute hand. It had to touch twelve before anything, could happen. Then the judge would steal out of his lair47 and mount the bench, while every one stood and listened to the unintelligible48 barking of the attendant who began with something that sounded suspiciously like “Oy-yoy!” notwithstanding the fact that he was an Irish and not a Jewish comedian49.
Two uninteresting, anxious-eyed, middle-aged4 men, who looked a trifle scared and uncertain as to their right to be there, appeared suddenly inside the railing, and no one doubted for an instant that they were the defendant51’s lawyers. Sampson always had wondered why the men from the district attorney’s office were so confident, so cocky, and so spruce looking while their opponents invariably appeared to be a seedy, harassed52 lot, somewhat furtive53 in their movements and usually labouring under the strain of an inward shyness that caused a greasy54 polish of perspiration55 to spread over their countenances56.
Sampson was to find that these timid, incompetent looking individuals had every reason in the world to be perspiring57 even so early in the proceedings58. They turned out to be what is known in rhetorical circles as “fire-eaters” The judge took his seat and the clerk at once called the case of the State vs. James W. Hildebrand. Sampson speculated. What had Hildebrand done to get himself into a mess of this sort? Was it grand or petit larceny59, or was it house-breaking, entering, safe-cracking, or—Two burly attendants came up the side aisle60 and between them walked a gaunt, grey, stooped old man, his smooth shaven face blanched61 by weeks of sunless existence.
Sampson had expected to see a sullen-faced, slouching young fellow, shaved and brushed and combed into an unnatural62 state of comeliness63 for the purpose of hoodwinking the jury into the belief that his life was as clean as his cheek. He could not deny himself a stare of incredulity on beholding64 this well-dressed, even ascetic65 looking man who strode haltingly, almost timidly through the little gate and sank into the chair designated by his counsel. Once seated, he barely glanced at his lawyers, and then allowed his eyes to fall as if shame was the drawing power. Somehow, in that instant, Sampson experienced the sudden conviction that this man James W. Hildebrand was no ordinary person, for it was borne in upon him that he despised the men who were employed to defend him. It was as if he were more ashamed of being seen with them than he was of being haled into a court of justice charged with crime.
The assistant district attorney in charge of the case addressed the waiting talesmen, briefly66 outlining the case against the defendant, and for the first time in his experience Sampson listened with a show of interest.
James W. Hildebrand was charged with embezzlement67. Judging by the efforts of his counsel to have the case set over for at least ten days and the Court’s refusal to grant a delay, together with certain significant observations as to the time that would probably be required to produce and present the evidence—a week or more—Sampson realised that this was a case of considerable magnitude. He racked his brain in the futile68 effort to recall any mention of it in the newspapers. It was his practice to read every line of the criminal news printed, for this was the only means he had of justifying69 the declaration that he had formed an opinion. Nothing escaped him—or at least he thought so—and yet here was a case, evidently important, that had slipped through without having made the slightest impression on him. It was most disturbing. This should not have happened.
His heart sank as he thought of the California reservations uptown. He was expected to take up the transportation and Pullman that very afternoon.
The old man—he was seventy—was accused of having misappropriated something like fifty thousand dollars of the funds belonging to a real-estate and investment concern in which he was not only a partner but also its secretary and treasurer70. The alleged71 crime had been committed some five years prior to the day on which he was brought to trial.
After having evaded72 capture for four years and a half by secluding73 himself in Europe, he voluntarily had returned to the States, giving himself up to the authorities. Sampson abused himself secretly for having allowed such a theatric incident as this to get by without notice on his part. Other prospective74 jurors sitting nearby appeared to know all about the case, for he caught sundry75 whispered comments that enlightened him considerably76. He realised that he had been singularly and criminally negligent77.
A protracted78 and confidential79 confab took place between the Court and the counsel for both sides. Every juror there hoped that they were discussing some secret and imperative80 reason for indefinitely postponing81 the case after all—or, perhaps, better than that, the prisoner was going to plead guilty and save all of them!
Finally the little group before the bench broke up and one of the attorneys for Hildebrand approached the rail and held open the gate. A woman entered and took a seat beside the prisoner. Sampson, with scant83 interest in the woman herself—except to note that she was slender and quite smartly attired—was at once aware of a surprising politeness and deference84 on the part of the transmogrified lawyers, both of whom smirked85 and scraped and beamed with what they evidently intended to be gallantry.
The attorneys for the state regarded the lady with a very direct interest, and smiled upon her, not condescendingly or derisively86 as is their wont87, but with unmistakable pleasure. A close observer would have detected a somewhat significant attentiveness88 on the part of the justice, a middle-aged50 gentleman whose business it was to look severe and ungenial. He gave his iron-grey moustache a tender twist at each end and placed an elbow on the desk in front of him, revealing by that act that he was as human as any one else.
I have neglected to state that Sampson was thirty, smooth-faced, good-looking, a consistent member of an athletic89 club and a Harvard man who had won two H’s and a cum laude with equal ease. You will discover later on that he was unmarried.
He was the seventeenth talesman called. Two jurors had been secured. The other fourteen had been challenged for cause and, for the life of him, he couldn’t see why. They all looked pretty satisfactory to him. He garnered90 a little hope for himself in the profligate91 waste of good material. If he could sustain his customary look of intelligence there was a splendid chance that he too would be rejected.
It seemed to him that the attendant in announcing his name and place “of residence after the oath vociferated with unusual vehemence92. Never before had he heard his name uttered with such amazing gusto.
“You have heard the statement concerning the charge against the defendant, Mr. Sampson,” said the assistant district attorney, taking his stand directly in front of him. “Before going any farther, I will ask if you know of any reason why you cannot act as a juror in this case?”
Sampson had always been honest in his responses. He never had lied in order to “get off.” Subterfuges93 and tricks, yes—but never deliberate falsehood.
“No,” he answered.
“Have you heard of this case before?”
“No,” admitted Sampson, distinctly mortified94.
“Then you have formed no opinion as to the guilt82 or innocence95 of the defendant?”
“Are you acquainted with the defendant, James W. Hildebrand?”
“No.”
“Have you had any business dealings with either of his counsel, Mr. Abrams or Mr. O’Brien?”
“No.”
“Are you acquainted with either of his former partners, the gentlemen who are to appear as witnesses against him, Thomas Stevens and John L. Drew?”
Sampson’s face brightened. “I know a John Drew,” he said. The lawyer shook his head and smiled. “But he’s not in the loan business,” he added.
“Do you know Miss Alexandra Hildebrand, the granddaughter of this defendant? The lady sitting beside him?”
0029
For the first time, Sampson directed his attention to the woman. His glance, instead of being casual and perfunctory, as he had expected it would be, developed into a prolonged stare that left him shy and confused. She was looking into his eyes, calmly, seriously, and, he thought, a bit speculatively96, as if she were estimating his mental displacement97. As a matter of fact, she was merely detaching him from the others who had gone before. He had the strange, uncomfortable feeling that he was being appraised99 by a most uncompromising judge. His stare was not due to resentment100 on his part because of her cool inspection101. It was the result of suddenly being confronted by the loveliest girl he had ever seen—unquestionably the loveliest.
It seemed an affront102 to this beautiful, clear-eyed creature to say that he did not know her. To say it to her face, too—with her eyes upon him—why, it was incomprehensibly rude and ungallant. He ought to have been spared this unnecessary humiliation103, he thought. How would she feel when he deliberately104, coldly insulted her by uttering a bald, harsh negative to the question that had been asked?
“I—I am afraid not,” he managed to qualify, hoping for a slight smile of acknowledgement.
“Would you be inclined to favour the defendant because of his age, Mr. Sampson?”
Sampson hesitated. Here was his chance. He looked again at Miss Alexandra Hildebrand. She was still regarding him coolly, impersonally105. After all, he was nothing to her but a juror—just an ordinary, unwholesome specimen106 undergoing examination. If he was rejected, he would pass out of her mind on the instant and never again would he be permitted to enter. He felt very small and inconsequential.
“Well, naturally, I suppose, I should be influenced to some extent by his age,” he replied.
“You would, however, keep your mind open to the evidence in the case and render a verdict according to that evidence? You would not discharge him solely107 because he is an old man?”
“I don’t know where my sympathy would carry me,” said Sampson evasively.
“I see. Well, if you should be accepted by both sides as a juror to sit in this case you would at least try to divide your sympathy as fairly as possible between us, wouldn’t you? You would not deny the long-suffering State of New York a share of your sympathy, would you?”
Miss Hildebrand, at that juncture108, touched her grandfather on the arm and whispered something in his ear. For the first time the old man looked at the talesman in the chair. Sampson was acutely aware of a sudden flash of interest in the prisoner’s eyes. Moreover, the young woman was regarding him rather less impersonally.
Sampson assumed an air of extreme hauteur109 “If I am accepted by both sides in this case, my sympathy will be, first of all, with myself, I am not eager to serve. I shall, however, do my best to render an intelligent, just verdict.”
“According to the evidence and the law as laid down by the honourable Court?”
“According to the circumstances as I see them.”
“That is not a direct answer to my question, Mr. Sampson.”
“I am not willing to say that I will be governed entirely110 by the evidence. I can only say, that I should render what I consider to be a just and reasonable verdict, depending on circumstances.”
“Ahem! You are quite sure that you could render a just and reasonable verdict?”
“Yes.”
“And yet you admit that you cannot answer for your sympathies?”
“Are you cross-examining me?”
“Not at all, Mr. Sampson,” responded the other smoothly111. “I am merely trying to ascertain112 whether you are competent to serve as a juror in this case.”
Sampson was saying to himself: “Thank the Lord, he will never accept me.” Aloud he said: “Pray, overlook my stupidity and proceed—”
The Court leaned forward and tapped smartly on the desk with a lead pencil. “We are wasting time, gentlemen. Please omit the persiflage113.”
“Have you ever served as a juror in a criminal case, Mr. Sampson?” inquired the lawyer. Sampson had turned pink under the Court’s mild irony114.
“No,” he answered, and glanced at Miss Hildebrand, expecting to see a gleam of amusement in her eyes. She was regarding him quite solemnly, however.
“You are a Harvard man, I believe, Mr. Sampson?”
“Yes.”
“If it should be shown that this defendant is also a Harvard graduate, would that fact serve to prejudice you in his favour?”
“Certainly not,” said Sampson, warmly. This was too much!
“What is your business, Mr. Sampson?”
“I am connected with the Sampson Steamship115 and Navigation Company.”
“In what capacity?”
“I am its president.”
“You are, I believe, the son of the late Peter Stuyvesant Sampson, founder116 of the company?”
“I am.”
“The only son?”
“And heir,” said Sampson curtly117. “I inherited my job, if that’s what you are trying to get at. And it is more or less of an honorary position, if that will help you any. I am president of the company because I happen to own all but five shares of the capital stock, and not because I really want to hold, or because I am in any sense competent to fill the office. Now you know all that there is to know about my connection with the company.”
“Thanks,” said the assistant district attorney, drily. “And now, Mr. Sampson, could you sit as a juror in this case and give, on your honour as a man, despite a very natural sympathy that may be aroused for this aged defendant, a verdict in favour of the State if it is proved to you beyond all doubt that he is guilty as charged?”
There was but one answer that Sampson could give. He felt exceedingly sorry for himself. “Yes.” Then he made haste to qualify: “Provided, as I said before, that there are no extenuating118 circumstances.”
“But you would not deliberately discharge a guilty man just because you happened to feel sorry for him, would you? We, as individuals, are all sorry for the person we are obliged to punish, Mr. Sampson. But the law is never sorry. The mere98 fact that one man disregards the law is no reason why the rest of us should do the same, is it?”
“Of course not,” said Sampson, feeling himself in a trap.
“The State asks no more of you than you would, as a citizen, ask of the State, Mr. Sampson. The fact that this defendant, after five years, voluntarily surrendered himself to the authorities—would that have any effect on your feelings?”
“Yes, it would. I should certainly take that into consideration. As a citizen, I could not ask more of any man than that he surrender himself to my State if it couldn’t catch him.”
The Court tapped with his pencil, and a raucous119 voice from somewhere called for order.
“Are you a married man, Mr. Sampson?”
“I am not.”
“The State is satisfied,” said the assistant district attorney, and sat down.
Sampson caught his breath. Satisfied? It meant that he was acceptable to the State! After all he had said, he was acceptable to the State. He could hardly believe his ears. Landed! Landed, that’s what it meant. The defence would take him like a shot. A cold perspiration hurst out all over him. And while he was still wondering how the district attorney could have entrusted120 the case to such an incompetent subordinate, counsel for the defence began to ply45 him with questions—perfunctory, ponderous121 questions that might have been omitted, for any one with half an eye could see that Sampson was doomed122 the instant the State said it was satisfied.
His spirit was gone. He recognised the inevitable123; in a dazed sort of way he answered the questions, usually in monosyllables and utterly124 without spunk125. Miss Hildebrand was no longer resting her elbows on the table in front of her in an attitude of suspense126. She was leaning comfortably back in her chair, her head cocked a little to one side, and she gazed serenely127 at the topmost pane16 of glass in the tall window behind the jury box. She appeared to be completely satisfied.
He saw the two lawyers lean across the table in consultation128 with the prisoner and his granddaughter, their heads close together. They-were discussing him as if he were the criminal in the case. Miss Hildebrand peered at him as she whispered something in her grandfather’s ear, and then he caught a fleeting129, though friendly smile in her eyes. He was reminded, in spite of his extreme discomfiture130, that she was an amazingly pretty girl.
“No challenge,” said the defendant’s attorney, and Sampson was told to take seat No. 3 in the jury box.
“Defendant, look upon the juror. Juror, look upon the defendant,” said the clerk, and with his hand on the Bible Sampson took the oath to render a true verdict according to the law and the evidence, all the while looking straight into the eyes of the gaunt old man who stood and looked at him wearily, drearily131, as if from a distance that rendered his vision useless.
Then Sampson sank awkwardly into the third seat, and sighed so profoundly that juror No. 2 chuckled132.
He certainly was in for it now.
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1
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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evading
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| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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annoyances
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| n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 )；烦恼；打扰；使人烦恼的事 | |
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steadfastly
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quaintly
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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pane
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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incompetent
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| adj.无能力的，不能胜任的 | |
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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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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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jaunt
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exacting
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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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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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relished
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| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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drowsy
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stuffy
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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promptly
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lurked
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dreaded
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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inhuman
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smallpox
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ambled
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thoroughly
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blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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43
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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44
appraising
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| v.估价( appraise的现在分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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45
ply
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| v.(搬运工等)等候顾客，弯曲 | |
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46
favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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47
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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48
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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49
comedian
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| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
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50
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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51
defendant
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| n.被告；adj.处于被告地位的 | |
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52
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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53
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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54
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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55
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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56
countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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57
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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58
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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59
larceny
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| n.盗窃（罪） | |
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60
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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61
blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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62
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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63
comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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64
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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65
ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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66
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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67
embezzlement
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| n.盗用，贪污 | |
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68
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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justifying
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| 证明…有理( justify的现在分词 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
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70
treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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71
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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72
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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73
secluding
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| v.使隔开，使隔绝，使隐退( seclude的现在分词 ) | |
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74
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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75
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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76
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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negligent
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| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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81
postponing
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| v.延期，推迟( postpone的现在分词 ) | |
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82
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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83
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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84
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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85
smirked
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| v.傻笑( smirk的过去分词 ) | |
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86
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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87
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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88
attentiveness
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| [医]注意 | |
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89
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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garnered
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| v.收集并（通常）贮藏（某物），取得，获得( garner的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
profligate
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| adj.行为不检的；n.放荡的人，浪子，肆意挥霍者 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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93
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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mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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95
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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96
speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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97
displacement
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| n.移置，取代，位移，排水量 | |
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98
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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99
appraised
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| v.估价( appraise的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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100
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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101
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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102
affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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103
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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104
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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105
impersonally
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| ad.非人称地 | |
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106
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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107
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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108
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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109
hauteur
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| n.傲慢 | |
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110
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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111
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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112
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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113
persiflage
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| n.戏弄；挖苦 | |
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114
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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115
steamship
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| n.汽船，轮船 | |
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116
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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117
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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118
extenuating
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| adj.使减轻的，情有可原的v.（用偏袒的辩解或借口）减轻( extenuate的现在分词 )；低估，藐视 | |
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119
raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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120
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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122
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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123
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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124
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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125
spunk
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| n.勇气，胆量 | |
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126
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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127
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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128
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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129
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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130
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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131
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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132
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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