“It is not a new thought,” replied David. “But I have never before comprehended how unwelcome it could make itself.”
They spoke2 to each other in soft, regretful, musing3 tones, through the still darkness of the clouded summer night. They had been the last to quit the Greenwich boat, on its last return to its City moorings, and they halted for a moment on the floating pier4 after the others had gone—the gentle undulation of the tide beneath their feet, their gaze dwelling5 upon the black silent expanse of the river.
In retrospect6, the day had been very long indeed, and altogether happy. Its structure of delight had been reared on the simplest and most innocent of foundations. They had gone first to the Zoological Garden, which fortuitously suggested itself to Mosscrop’s mental search as an unexceptional resource. Nor did inspiration fail him there, for when the great man-eating cats had been fed, and the foul8 hyenas9 next door had yelped10 themselves hoarse11, and the charms of natural history had otherwise begun to wane12, the notable thought of the fish dinner at Greenwich rose with splendid opportuneness13 in his mind.
It was after this feast, while the two strolled beneath the big trees, that twilight15 found them out. The shadows, as they deepened among the distant shipping16, and stole downward to dim the reflected whiteness of the eastern sky beyond the river, brought reverie in their train. Mosscrop found a bitter taste in his cigar, and lit another impatiently. The girl leant upon his arm with a new suggestion of dependence17. They moved down to the wharf18 by tacit consent, before the appointed time, and, taking their seat on a bench at the end, looked absently at the water with but an occasional word. Evening closed in about them as they sat thus. Then the boat came, and they went on board, and established themselves in relative seclusion19 at the stern, still in almost unbroken silence.
And now the completed journey lay behind them as well. They stood close together, swaying with the slight motion of the raft upon the lapping waters, and ruminating20 sadly upon the fact that their day was done.
“We finish as we began—with the river,” murmured Vestalia. She trembled to his touch as she spoke.
“Do you remember Henley’s lines,” said David, meditatively—=
```“‘The smell of ships (that earnest of romance),
```A sense of space and water, and thereby21
```A lamplit bridge touching22 the troubled sky,
```And look, O look! a tangle23 of silvery gleams,
```And dusky lights, our River and all his dreams,
```His dreams of a dead past that cannot die.’”=
“No, it cannot die,” said Vestalia, slowly. “But its burial time is close at hand, none the less. Ah, the beautiful day!”
They turned and paced up the ascent24, and then through obscure, deserted25 thoroughfares made their way at length to the open space about St. Paul’s. The clouds had parted, and the great dome26 loomed27 in immensity against a straggling light from the sky. They paused to look at it, and while they stood the fleecy mists far overhead cleared away, and the round moon’s full radiance flooded the prospect28. Mosscrop gazed up at the flaring29 satellite, then down at his companion. A new thought sparkled in his eyes.
“And ah, the beautiful to-morrow, too!” he said, confidently. “My good child, do you conceive that the world comes to an end when the sun goes down? Am I less your friend by moonlight than I was in the day-time? Are we changed by the fact that the lamps are lit?”
Vestalia turned her face into the shadow, and said nothing. Mosscrop felt her deep breathing against his arm.
“You have been very dutiful and obedient all day,” he began, as they moved along toward Ludgate Hill. “I repudiate30 the suggestion that you are capable of mutiny now. Let us speak plainly, dear little lady. How can you suppose that, having watched over you all day and gladly made myself responsible for your well-being31 since before breakfast, I could wash my hands of you now, and calmly say ‘goodbye’ at a street corner?”
“You have been very very kind,” faltered32 Vestalia.
“And for that reason it follows that I should be very callous33 and brutal34 now, does it? I don’t see the logic7 myself.”
“I haven’t meant that at all,” she interposed in a low voice. She bent35 her head so that Mosserop could not see her face.
“We will develop and analyze36 your meanings at our leisure,” he said, with a note of authority. “It is more important for the moment to make clear what I mean. The facts are simplicity37 itself. You have no home, no belongings38, no place to sleep, no knowledge of where the morning’s breakfast is to come from. You are a beautiful girl, and it is true our civilisation39 is so arranged that beautiful girls rarely starve to death. I do not recall having heard of a single instance, for that matter. But your position makes an imperative40 demand for assistance from somebody. It cried aloud for help at an early hour this morning. It happened that the appeal was heard and answered. If we were superstitious41, we should call it providential.”
“Oh, but I do!” protested the girl.
“Very well, then, we are superstitious, and it was providential. These things are governed, I am informed, by immutable42 laws. Ergo, it is still providential. Who are we, that we should fly in the face of Providence43? I adjure44 you to put away such impious thoughts!”
A little sobbing45 catch of the breath was her only answer. He divined that there were tears in her eyes, and slowed his pace as they walked along in the gloom of the deserted descent. At the bottom, under the bridge, the sparkling lights of Fleet Street recalled to him that shops were still open.
“I mentioned that you had no belongings,” he resumed, after they had traversed the Circus in silence. “There are little odds46 and ends of things that you want—the necessities of the toilet, et cetera. Here is a shop; take this sovereign and get the bits of haberdashery that occur to you—such as a lady would put in her dressing-bag if she were to stop overnight in the country. I will go across the way and get the bag itself, and come back for you.”
He performed his part of the enterprise with an almost childlike delight. Ladies’ dressing-bags cost more than he had imagined, but the shopman said he would take a cheque. David found something to his mind—a dainty yet capacious trifle, with pretty silver flasks47 ranged on one side, and a surprisingly comprehensive collection of small implements—scissors, curling-tongs, a manicure set, and other tools the significance of which he could not even guess—packed about in quaint48 little pockets and crevices49. The outer leather was rich to the eye and delicate to the touch.
A few doors away shone the symbolical50 red and blue lights of a chemist. Hurrying thither51, he flung himself eagerly into the task of buying fluids to fill those imposing52 flasks. The shopman advised him, at first coldly, then with rising enthusiasm. The best perfumes and vinaigres were expensive, certainly, but then they were the best, and would vouch53 for themselves to any cultivated feminine mind. There were recondite54 soaps, and cosmetics55 to thrill any gentle heart. And in the matter of brushes—here were some silver-backed, and the comb also—to match the flasks. So the list was filled out, and David wrote another cheque with a proud smile.
Vestalia stood at the door of the shop, waiting with a small paper parcel in her hands. Mosscrop was disappointed at its size, and thrust it into the bag with a disdainful shove. They strolled on up the street, and he looked into every lighted window with a hopeful eye. The display of mere56 masculine or neutral wares57 affronted58 him. The shopping fantasy possessed59 his soul.
“But you really ought to have them. You’re not behaving nicely to me in continually saying ‘no,’” he urged more than once, as the pressure of his companion’s arm drew him away from the tempting60 windows. She did consent at last to the purchase of some slippers61—and he saw to it that they were the choicest that the shelves afforded—soft, luxurious62 little things, with satin linings63 and buckles64 of mother-of-pearl. When these went into the bag, it was filled. He recognised the fact with a regretful sigh.
The creaking old clock-machinery in the belfry of St. Clement65 Danes set itself in motion as they passed, and the ancient chimes clanged out the full hour. It was nine o’clock.
“I had some thought of a music-hall,” he remarked. “But we’ve had a pretty full day—and a long day, too. I know you must be tired.”
“Perhaps—just a little,” she answered, softly.
“Then we’ll go home,” he said, with decision.
It was not a part of London which Vestalia knew very well. Mosscrop led her along the Strand66 for a little way, then crossed and went up a side street, then turned into a still narrower by-way. The ragged67 loungers on the walk had an evil aspect, and almost every building seemed to be a public-house. At the last corner a piano-organ of unusual volume shook the air with deafening68 mechanical din1. The man turned the crank so fast, and the dancing children in the radiance from the open-doored tavern69 on the pavement raised such a racket of their own, that she could barely distinguish the movement of the vulgar tune14. On the borders of darkness beyond were discernible still other children, playing noisily about at the base of groups of fat women in fog-coloured shawls and white aprons70. Over all the tumult71 and squalid clusterings of humanity there brooded the acrid72, musty stench of an antique mid-London slum.
The two turned under an archway, and as by magic the atmosphere freshened and the hubbub73 ceased. A small square of venerable buildings disclosed itself vaguely74 in the uncertain light from the sky. Here and there a lamp behind some curtained window made a dim break in the obscurity. The faint sweet moaning of a ’cello rose from somewhere at the farther end of the space. A stout75 man with a gold band upon his tall hat revealed himself for a noiseless moment, lifted his finger in salute76 to Mosscrop, and melted away again into the shadows. Whether they had passed him, or he them, Vestalia could hardly tell. It was all very strange—and a little sombre. A streak77 of moonlight glanced down between shifting clouds, and fell across the fronts of the houses opposite. There were pale grey tablets of ornamentation set into their mass of dusky brickwork, which looked like tombstones. The girl trembled, and hung back upon Mosscrop’s arm as if to halt.
Suddenly, after a brief preliminary scale of piano notes, a woman’s clear, practised voice fell upon the silence in a song—a grave and simple melody full of tenderness. They paused to listen for an instant, and Vestalia traced the sound to an illuminated78 upper floor at the end of the square.
“Then people live here!” she said, with hesitating re-assurance in her voice.
“Bless you, yes,” replied David. “We live here, among others.”
He entered the open doorway79 of the house next to that before which they had paused. The hall was lighted by a single gas-jet at the rear, which only deepened the darkness of the narrow staircase up which he led the way. It was a very ancient and ricketty staircase, with steps worn into queer bumps and hollows by generations of feet. There was not room for her to walk abreast80 of her guide. He strode ahead, striking matches on the wall as he went. She followed him timorously81 up the winding82 ascent, noting the rows of names painted on the big closed doors of each landing they passed.
Mosscrop stopped only when the stairs came to an end. He put down the bag, and she heard the rattle83 of a key in a lock. Then a match was struck, and a sudden flare84 of gas lit up the small square hall-way they stood in.
As he pushed open a door to the left, he turned with a smiling face towards his companion. He discovered her drawn85 back at the edge of the stairs, her hands pressed against her bosom86. Her eyes were fastened on him with a troubled look, and the sound of her breathing, quick and laboured, reached his ears.
“These stairs are the very deuce when you’re not used to them,” he said, pleasantly. “I oughtn’t to have rushed you up them at such a pace.”
“That doesn’t matter,” panted the girl. “It is I who mightn’t to have come up at all.”
David’s smile deepened and mellowed87 as he regarded her. “My dear Vestalia,” he began, laying a slight and kindly88 stress upon this first use of her name, “you speak hastily. You must offer no further remarks until you have quite recovered your breath. I will employ the interval89 by calling your attention to the inscription90 on the closed door, there, opposite to mine. You will observe that it is ‘Mr. Linkhaw.’ Have you ever heard it before?”
She shook her head.
“And are you conscious of no novel emotions at hearing it now? Does not the sight of those painted letters cause you to thrill with strange and mysterious sensations? No? What becomes then of the boasted intuition of the feminine mind?”
There seemed to be a jest hidden somewhere in all this, and she smiled plaintively91, dubiously92. She took her hand from her breast, to show that her breathing was calmer.
“You really assure me,” he went on, with a twinkling eye, “that the spectacle of this particular sported-oak does not especially stir your pulses, and peculiarly impress your imagination?”
“Why should it?”
“Why indeed! Ah, young woman, your sex gets much credit that it ill deserves. A mere man could do no worse in the matter of instinct. My dear friend, behind that door lies your present abode93. That name ‘Linkhaw’ is the sign of your home—and you looked at them both and never guessed it!”
Vestalia did not so much as glance at the door in question, but she gazed with much intentness at Mosscrop. “I don’t understand—what it is all about?” she said, slowly.
He had stepped inside his own door, lighted the gas and pulled down the blinds. He returned, and stretched out his hand to take hers. “Do me the honour to come in and sit down,” he said, holding up her gloved fingers, and bowing over them. “You are my nearest neighbour, and yet you have never called upon me.”
She followed him into his sitting-room94, and took the easy chair he wheeled out toward the table for her. It was a larger apartment than the narrow staircase and cramped95 landing had promised. The ceiling was low and dreadfully smoky, it was true, and the appointments and furniture were old-fashioned. But the whole effect, if somewhat meagre and unadorned, was comfortable and honest.
“Put off your hat and gloves, and look as if you felt at home,” urged David. “You’ve but a step to go.”
He busied himself meanwhile in bringing from a recess96 of the sideboard two tumblers, a heavy decanter filled with an amber97 liquid, and a big bottle of soda98 water.
“You’ll join me in some whisky and soda?” he asked pleasantly, fumbling99 with the wire.
“Oh mercy, no!” said Vestalia. “Really I mustn’t touch anything more. I see now that I have been drinking far too much, all day long.”
“Tut!” he answered. “How could there be too much on a birthday? And now I think of it, there were two of them! I pledge my word, it has been a singularly dry occasion for a double birthday. We must hasten to make good the deficiency.”
Vestalia had drawn off her gloves. She rose now, and standing100 before the mantel-mirror, lifted her hat from her head. Then she turned and, half-playfully, half in pleading, shook her bright curls at him. “I thought it was going to be different hereafter,” she said, softly.
He looked inquiry101 for an instant, then nodded comprehension. “Ay,” he said, with gravity, “you’re a wise virgin102. This one glass shall last me the night. You are very welcome here, my lady!”
She smiled at the lifted tumbler, over which his eyes regarded her. “What lots of books you have!” she exclaimed, a moment later, and began an inspection103 of the room, lingering in turn before each of the old prints on the dingy104 walls, and examining the rows of volumes in detail. He loitered beside her for a little, passing comments on what seemed to interest her. Then he disappeared in an adjoining room, and returned presently in a loose velveteen jacket and slippers. He took the famous dressing-bag from the table.
“Your visit isn’t at all over yet,” he remarked; “but I am consumed with a desire to see you sitting opposite me, here, in those wee soft slippers of yours. It will make a sweet picture for me to carry into dreamland. And so first I will show you your new home.”
She followed him out into the hall, and then through the doors he unlocked into the apartments of the mysterious “Mr. Linkhaw.” The first room disclosed itself, when the gas was lit, to be similar to David’s in size, but all else was strangely different. The Turkey red carpet was brilliant, almost garish105, in its newness, and the ceiling was covered with a bright pink paper. All round three sides were broad divans106, heaped with soft red cushions and downy pillows. No chairs were to be seen. More singular still, the walls were crowded with the stuffed heads of animals—bisons, bears, moose, elks107, antelopes108, wolves, and endless varieties of deer. Vestalia gazed at these trophies109 of the chase with surprise.
“Linkhaw is a mighty110 hunter before the Lord,” Mosscrop explained. “Yon is the bedroom. It is fairly carpeted with the skins of tigers, lions, leopards111, and such like beasts. If you dream of jungles and Noah’s ark to-night, and don’t like it, we’ll throw them all out in the morning.”
“But what am I doing in this Mr. Link-haw’s rooms?” inquired the girl. “I don’t understand it at all. Suppose he should come?”
David laughed lightly. “It’s a far cry from Uganda to Dunstan’s Inn. Or maybe he’s in the Hudson Bay Territory. It’s a year and more since I knew of his whereabouts. The most unheard-of and God-forgotten wilderness112 on earth—that’s where you may always count on his being, unless he has learned of some still more impossible and repellent wild, just discovered, in the meantime. He is an old friend and school-fellow of mine, and leaves his keys with me. I just have a look at the place now and then, to keep the laundress up to the mark.”
He passed on into the bedroom, struck a light, and threw a scrutinising glance round. “You’ll be needing fresh sheets and the like,” he said, returning. “I’ll bring them.”
He came back with an armful of linen113, and heaped it on the bed. “Now you’re right as a trivet,” he cried, cheerily. “Everything has been aired. And now I’ll be waiting for you to come back to me, with the pretty little slippers. Mind, I’m capable of great excesses in drink if you delay over-long.”
Vestalia’s delay was inconsiderable. They sat for an hour or more, she with the dainty new footgear on the fender, he, lounging low in his chair, stretching out his own feet close to the rail beside hers. “I could wish it were winter,” he mused114, once, “so that we might have a fire. We have an old saying about two pairs of slippers on the hearth115. I never thought before what homely116 beauty there was in it. Ah, there’ll be cool nights coming on now, and then we’ll start a blaze. But even with a black grate, it is the dearest evening of my life.”
“And of mine,” responded the girl.
Hours later, David still sat by the empty fireplace, and ruminated117 over his pipe. He had put the decanter and glass resolutely118 back into the sideboard, and turned a key on them. He had taken down a book, but it lay unregarded on the floor beside him. He desired to do nothing but think, and yet even that it was not easy to contrive119. Thoughts would not marshal themselves in any ordered sequence.
The whole day had yielded an extraordinary experience, involving all thoughts of momentous120 possibilities, which he said over and over again to himself demanded the coolest and most conservative consideration. But when he strove to fasten his mind to the task, straightway it swerved121 and curveted and danced off beyond control. One memory returned to him ceaselessly: the way Vestalia had risen finally to say good-night, and insisted strenuously122 on his not quitting his chair, and then, all at once, had bent swiftly down and kissed him before she ran from the room. And well, why not? he asked himself at last; why shouldn’t he abandon himself to remembering it? What else was there equally well worth recalling? The early morning on the bridge rose again before him; the tenderly compassionate123 intimacy124 which, stealing slowly over them, seemed yet to have burst forth125 in ripe fulness from the very beginning; the delightful126 meals together, the long walks and talks, the little gifts which brought such happiness to the donor127; the languorously128 saddened twilight on the river, the silent homecoming, the surprise, the kiss—so the sweet chain of reverie coiled and unfolded itself, with quickened heart-beats for links.
Once a thought came to him—a thought which seemed hard and cold as his native granite129, and rough with the bristling130 spikes131 of his own hillside heather—that he had spent in that one day more than his whole week’s income. In other times the fact would have disturbed David. Now he looked it calmly in the face, and smiled at it derisive132 dismissal. The savings133 of a year, or of four years—what were even they when weighed in the balance against the fact that next door, under these very roof-beams, the dear Vestalia was peacefully sleeping?
It must have been long after midnight when, in the act of filling his pipe once more, it occurred to him to go to bed instead. Upon reflection, he was both tired and sleepy. He rose and yawned, and then smiled upon his own image in the mirror at remembering how happy he was as well. It was a queer mess, to be sure, but there was no element in it which he regretted or would have changed. It was all delicious, through and through.
As he glanced again at his reflection in the glass, and warmed his heart by the flame of triumphant134 joy which gleamed through the eyes he looked into, a sudden rhythmical135 noise rose upon the profound stillness of the old inn. It caught his ear, and he turned to listen.
“It is that blessed creature snoring—breathing, I mean,” was his first thought. But no, it was in too rapid a measure for that. Then the sound waxed louder, and he recognised that it was of footsteps steadily136 ascending137 the stairs. “The watchman, coming to make sure of the lights,” he thought, with re-assurance.
But this hypothesis fell to the ground also.
The footsteps mounted to the landing close outside. The noise ceased, and then there came the unmistakable jingle138 of a key—nay, the very grating of it in the lock of the door opposite.
David’s veins139, for a confused moment, ran cold. Then, with an excited ejaculation, he ran to his door, and flung it open.
“Stop that, you idiot!” he commanded, in muffled140 but ferocious141 tones.
“Ah, Davie, Davie! Still at the bottle!” replied a well-known voice from out of the obscurity.
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1
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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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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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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retrospect
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| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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hyenas
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| n.鬣狗( hyena的名词复数 ) | |
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yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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wane
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| n.衰微，亏缺，变弱；v.变小，亏缺，呈下弦 | |
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opportuneness
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| n.恰好，适时，及时 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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ruminating
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| v.沉思( ruminate的现在分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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thereby
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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repudiate
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| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
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well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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40
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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41
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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42
immutable
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| adj.不可改变的，永恒的 | |
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43
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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44
adjure
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| v.郑重敦促(恳请) | |
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45
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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46
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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47
flasks
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| n.瓶，长颈瓶， 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
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48
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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49
crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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50
symbolical
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| a.象征性的 | |
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51
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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52
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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53
vouch
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| v.担保；断定；n.被担保者 | |
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54
recondite
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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55
cosmetics
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| n.化妆品 | |
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56
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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57
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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58
affronted
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| adj.被侮辱的，被冒犯的v.勇敢地面对( affront的过去式和过去分词 )；相遇 | |
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59
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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60
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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61
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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62
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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63
linings
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| n.衬里( lining的名词复数 )；里子；衬料；组织 | |
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64
buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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65
clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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66
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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67
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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68
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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69
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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70
aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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71
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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72
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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73
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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74
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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76
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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77
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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78
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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79
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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80
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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81
timorously
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| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
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82
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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83
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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84
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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85
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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86
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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87
mellowed
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| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
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88
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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89
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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90
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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91
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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92
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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93
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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94
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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95
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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96
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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97
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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98
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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99
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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100
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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101
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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102
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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103
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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104
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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105
garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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106
divans
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| n.（可作床用的）矮沙发( divan的名词复数 )；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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107
elks
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| n.麋鹿( elk的名词复数 ) | |
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108
antelopes
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| 羚羊( antelope的名词复数 )； 羚羊皮革 | |
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109
trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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110
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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111
leopards
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| n.豹( leopard的名词复数 )；本性难移 | |
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112
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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113
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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114
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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115
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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116
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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117
ruminated
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| v.沉思( ruminate的过去式和过去分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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118
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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119
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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120
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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121
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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123
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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124
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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125
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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126
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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127
donor
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| n.捐献者；赠送人；(组织、器官等的)供体 | |
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128
languorously
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| adv.疲倦地，郁闷地 | |
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129
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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130
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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131
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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132
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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133
savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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134
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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135
rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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136
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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137
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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138
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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139
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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140
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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141
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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