Joan acknowledged the service with an outspoken4 "Thanks."
At this Edna plucked up courage to say, with some animation6: "Joan—"
The mother interrupted with a sibilant warning, "Hush7!"
Thursby lifted his head and raked the three faces with an angry glance. "In God's name!" he cried—"can't you women hold your tongues?"
The girls made their resentment8 variously visible: Joan with a scowl9 and a toss of her head, Edna with a timid pout10. The mother's face betrayed no emotion whatsoever11. Thereafter, as far as they were concerned, the meal progressed in silence.
Thursby bent12 low over his plate, in the intervals13 devoted14 to mastication15 intently studying the file of dope at his elbow. Now and again he would drop knife and fork to take up his pencil and check the name of a horse or jot16 additional memoranda17 in his note-book. Infrequently he spoke5 or, rather, grunted18, to indicate a desire for some dish beyond his reach. Curiously19 enough (Joan remarked for the thousandth time) he was punctilious20 to say "please" and "thank you." The idiosyncrasy was all a piece (she thought) with the ease with which he employed knife, fork, and spoon: a careless grace which the girl considered "elegant" and did him the honour to imitate.
Furtively21 throughout the meal she studied her father. These little peculiarities22 of his, these refinements23 which sat so strangely on his gross, neglected person and were so exotic to his circumstances, exerted a compelling fascination24 upon the nimble curiosity of the girl. She both feared and despised him, but none the less cherished a sneaking25 admiration26 for the man. Beyond the fact that their estate had not always been so sorry, she knew nothing of the history of her parents; but she liked to think of her father, that he had once been, in some unknown way, superior: that he was a man ruined by a marriage beneath his station. To think this flattered her own secret dreams of rising out of her environment: girls, she had heard, took after their fathers—and vice-versa: perhaps she had inherited some of Anthony Thursby's keener intelligence, adaptability27, and sensitiveness—those qualities with which she chose to endow the man who had been Thursby before he became her father. Other circumstances lent colour to this theory: Butch, for instance, had unquestionably inherited his mother's physique and her reticence28, while Joan had her father's vigorous constitution and a body like his for sturdiness and good proportion....
Suddenly thrusting back his chair, Thursby rose, buttoned a soiled collar round his neck, shrugged29 a shabby coat upon his shoulders and, pocketing his dope, departed with neither word nor glance for his womenfolk.
His heavy footsteps were pounding the second flight of steps before a voice broke the hush in the stuffy30 little room, a voice faint and toneless, dim and passionless. It was Mrs. Thursby's.
"He's had a bad day, I guess...."
Edna placed a tender hand over the scalded, listless one that rested on the oilcloth. Joan, abandoning her determination to air her personal grievances31 at the first available instant, said suddenly:
"Never mind, ma. It ain't like he was a drinking man."
The vacant eyes in the faded face of the mother were fathoming32 distances remote from the four walls of the slatternly room. Her thin and colourless lips trembled slightly; little more than a whisper escaped them:
"Sometimes I wish he was—wish he had been. It'd 've been easier to stand—all this." A faltering33 gesture indicated vaguely34 the misery35 of their environment.
Edna continued to pet the unresponsive hand.
"Don't, mother!" she pleaded.
The woman stirred, withdrew her hand, and slowly got up.
"Come on, Edna. Le's get done with them dishes."
With eyes hard and calculating, Joan watched the two drift into the kitchen. Their wretched state touched her less than the fact that she must continue forever to share it, or else try to better it in open defiance36 of her father's prejudices.
"Something's got to be done for this family," she grumbled—"and I don't see anybody even thinking of doing anything but me!"
She rose and strode angrily back to the cubicle38 she shared with Edna. In a fit of unreasoning rage, snatching her hat from its hook, she impaled39 it upon her hair with hatpins that stabbed viciously. It had grown too dark to see more than a vague white shape moving on the surface of the mirror. But she did not stop to light the gas to make sure she was armoured against the public eye. In another moment, bag in hand, coat over her arm, she was letting herself out into the hallway.
Time enough tomorrow morning to fret40 her mother and sister with news of her misfortune: tonight she was in the humour to make a bold move toward freedom....
But on the door-stoop she checked, a trifle dashed by apprehension42 of the impending43 storm, which she had quite forgotten. She drew back into the vestibule: she could hardly afford to subject her only decent waist and skirt to danger of a drenching44.
An atmosphere if anything more dense45 than that of the day blanketed heavily the city. Even the gutter-children seemed to feel its influence, and instead of making the evening hideous46 with screams and rioting, moved with an uncommon47 lethargy, or stood or squatted48 apart in little groups, their voices hushed and querulous. The roar of the trains on the nearby Elevated seemed muted, the clangour of the Third Avenue surface cars blunted, and Joan fancied that the street lamps burned with an added lustre49. Wayfarers50 moved slowly if near home, otherwise briskly, with a spirit as unwilling51 as unwonted: one and all with frequent glances skyward.
Overhead, a low-hung bosom53 of dusky vapour borrowed a dull blush from the fires of life that blazed beneath. In the west, beyond the silhouetted54 structure of the Elevated and the less distinct profile of buildings on the far side of Central Park, the clouds blazed luridly55 with their own dread56 fires—a fitful, sheeted play athwart gigantic curtains, to an accompaniment of dull and intermittent57 grumbles58.
A soft, warm breath sighed down the breathless street, and sighing, died. Another, more cool and brusque, swept sharp upon the heels of the first, played with the littered rubbish of the pavements, caressed59 with a grateful touch flesh still stinging with the heat of day, and drove on, preceded by a cloud of acrid60 dust. A few drops of lukewarm water maculated the sidewalks with spots as big as dollars. There followed a sharper play of fire, and one more near. Children ran shrieking61 to shelter, and men and women dodged62 into convenient doorways63 or scudded64 off clumsily. The wind freshened, grew more chill.... Then, so suddenly that there might as well have been no warning, on the wings of the howling blast, laced continually with empyrean fire, timed by the rolling detonations65 of heavy artillery66 now near, now far, a shining deluge67 sluiced68 the streets and made its gutters69 brawling70 rivulets71.
A lonely, huddled72 figure, standing73 back in the entry, well out of the spray from the spattering drops, Joan waited the passing of the storm with neither fascination nor fear. Self-absorbed, her mood almost altogether introspective, she weighed her reckless plans. The crisis bellowed74 overhead in a series of tremendous, shattering explosions, bathing the empty street in wave after wave of blinding violet light, without seriously disturbing the slow, steady processes of the girl's mentality75.
Then she became aware of a young man who had emerged from the darksome backwards76 of the tenement77, so quietly that Joan had no notion how long he might have been standing there, regarding her with interest and amusement in his grey eyes and on his broad, good-humoured countenance78. He had a long, strong body poised79 solidly on sturdy legs, short arms with large and efficient hands; and bore himself with a careless confidence that did much to dissemble the negligence80 of his mode of dress—the ill-fitting coat and trousers, the common striped "outing shirt," the rusty81 derby set aslant82 on his round, close-cropped head. Joan knew him as Ben Austin, one of the few admirers whose attentions she was wont52 to suffer: by occupation a stage-hand at the Hippodrome; a steady young man, who lived with his mother in one of the rear flats.
He greeted her with a broadening grin and a "Hello, Joan!"
She said with indifference84: "Hello, Ben."
"Waitin' for the rain to let up?"
"No, foolish; I'm posing for a statue of Patience by a sculptor85 who's going to be born tomorrow."
This answer was brilliantly in accord with the humour of the day. Austin chuckled86 appreciatively.
"I thought maybe you was waitin' for Jeems to bring around your limousine87, Miss Thursby."
"I was, but he won't be here till day before yesterday."
The strain of such repartee88 proved too much for Austin; he felt himself outclassed and, shuffling89 to cover his discomfiture90, sought another subject.
"Whacha doing tonight, Joan? Anythin' special?"
"I've got an engagement to pass remarks on the weather with the Dook de Bonehead," the girl returned with asperity91. "He ain't late, either."
"I guess that was one off the griddle, all right," said Austin pensively92. "Excuse me for livin'."
There fell a pause, Joan contemptuously staring away through the glimmering93 rain-drops, Austin desperately94 casting about for a conversational95 opening less calculated than its predecessors96 to educe97 rebuffs.
"Say, Joan, lis'en—"
"Move on," the girl interrupted: "you're blocking the traffic."
"Nah—serious': howja like to go to a show tonight?"
She turned incredulous eyes to him. "What show?" she drawled.
"I gotta pass for Ziegfield's Follies—N'Yawk Roof. Wanta go?"
"Quit your kidding," she replied after a brief pause devoted to analysis of his sincerity98. "Y' know you've got to work."
"Nothin' like that!" he insisted. "The Hip83 closed last Sat'dy and I got a coupla weeks lay-off while they're gettin' ready to rehearse the new show. On the level, now: will you go with me?"
"Will I!" The girl drew a long, ecstatic breath. Then her face darkened as she glanced again at the street: "But we'll get all wet!"
"No, we won't: I'll get an umbrella. Besides, it's lettin' up."
With this Austin vanished, to return in a few minutes with a fairly presentable umbrella. The shower was, in fact, fast passing on over Long Island, leaving in its wake a slackening drizzle99 amid deep-throated growls100 at constantly lengthening101 intervals.
Half-clothed children were seeping102 in swelling103 streams from the tenements104 as the two—Austin holding the umbrella, Joan with a hand on her escort's arm, her skirts gathered high about her trim ankles—splashed through lukewarm puddles105 toward Third Avenue. A faint and odorous vapour steamed up from wet and darkly lustrous106 asphalt.
They hurried on in silence: Austin dumbly content with his conquest of the aloof107 tolerance108 which the girl had theretofore shown him, and planning bolder and more masterful steps; Joan all ecstatic with the prospect109 of seeing for the first time a "Broadway show"....
A few minutes before nine they left the cross-town car at Broadway and Forty-second Street.
Though she had lived all her young years within the boundaries of New York, never before had Joan experienced the sensation of being a unit of that roaring flood of life which nightly scours110 Longacre Square, with scarce a perceptible change in volume, winter or summer. Yet she accepted it with apparently111 implacable calm. She felt as if she had been born to this, as if she were coming tardily112 into her birthright—something of which each least detail would in time become most intimate to her.
They were already late, and Austin hurried her. A brief, hasty walk brought them to the theatre, where Austin left her in a corner of the lobby with the promise that he would return in a very few minutes: he had to see a friend "round back," he explained in an undertone. But Joan remained a target for boldly enquiring113 glances for full ten minutes before he reappeared. Even then, with a nod to her to wait, Austin went to the box-office window. She was not deceived as to the general tenor114 of his fortunes there—saw him place a card on the ledge3 and confer inaudibly with the ticket-seller, and then reluctantly remove the card and substitute for it two one-dollar bills, for which he received two slips of pasteboard.
"House 'most sold out," he muttered uncomfortably in her ear as an elevator carried them to the roof. "Best I could get was table seats."
"They're just as good as any," she whispered, with a look of gratitude115 that temporarily turned his head.
The elevator discharged them into a vast hall with walls and a roof of glass. Artificial wistaria festooned its beams and pillars of steel, palms and potted plants lined the walls. A myriad116 electric bulbs glimmered117 dimly throughout the auditorium118, brilliantly upon the small stage. Deep banks of chairs radiated back from the footlights, to each its tenant119 staring greedily in one common direction.
An usher120 waved the newcomers to the left. Ultimately they found seats at a small table in a far corner of the enclosure.
Austin was disappointed, and made his disappointment known in a public grumble37: the table was too far away; they couldn't see nothin'—might's well not've come. Joan smiled his ill-humour away, insisting that the seats were fine. Mollified, he summoned a waiter and ordered beer for himself, for Joan a glass of lemonade—a weirdly121 decorated and insipid122 concoction123 which, nevertheless, Joan absorbed with the keenest relish124.
In point of fact, the distance from their seats to the stage offered little obstacle to her complete enjoyment125: her senses were all youthful and unimpaired; she saw and heard what many another missed of those in their neighbourhood. Furthermore, Joan brought to an entertainment of this character a point of view fresh, virginal, and innocent of the very meaning of ennui126. She sat forward on the extreme edge of her chair, imperceptibly a-quiver with excitement, avid127 of every sight and sound. All that was tawdry, vulgar, and contemptible128 escaped her: she was sensitive only to the illusion of splendour and magnificence, and lived enraptured129 by dream-like music, exquisite130 wit, and the poetic131 beauty of femininity but half-clothed, or less, and viewed through a kaleidoscopic132 play of coloured light.
During the intermission she bent an elbow on the sloppy133 table-top and chattered134 at Austin with a vivacity135 new in his knowledge of her, and for which he had no match....
At one time during the second part of the performance, the auditorium was suddenly darkened, while attention was held to the stage by the antics of a pair of German comedians136. But in the shadows that now surrounded them (quite unconscious that Austin had seized this opportunity to capture her warm young hand) Joan became aware of a number of figures issuing from a side-door to the stage. She saw them marshalled in ranks of two—a long double file, vaguely glimmering through the obscurity. And then the comedians darted138 into the wings, the lights blazed out at full strength all over the enclosure, and a roll of drums crescendo139 roused the audience to a tremendous and exhilarating novelty: a procession of chorus girls in hip-tights and hussar tunics140 who, each with a snare-drum at waist, had stolen down the aisle141, into the heart of the auditorium.
For a long moment they marked time, drumming skilfully142, their leader with her polished baton143 standing beside Joan. Then the orchestra blared out an accompaniment, and they strode away, turning left and marching up the centre aisle to the stage.... Joan marked, with pulses that seemed to beat in tune41 to the drumming, the wistful beauty of many of the painted faces with their aloof eyes and fixed144 smiles of conscious self-possession, the richness of their uniforms, their bare powdered arms, the pretty legs in their silken casings. Oblivious145 to the libidinous146 glances of the goggling147 men they passed, she envied them one and all—the meanest and homeliest of them even as the most proud and beautiful—this chance of theirs to act, to be admired, to win the homage148 of the herd149....
She awoke as from idyllic150 dreams to find herself again in a Third Avenue car, homeward bound. But still her brain was drowsy151 with memories of the splendour and the glory; fragments of haunting melody ran through her thoughts; and visions haunted her, of herself commanding a similar meed of adoration152....
Austin's arm lay along the top of the seat behind her; his fingers rested lightly against the sleeve of her shirtwaist. She did not notice them. To his clumsily playful advances she returned indefinite, monosyllabic answers, accompanied by her charming smile of a grateful child....
On the third landing of their tenement they paused to say good night, visible to one another only in a faint light reflected up from the gas-jet burning low in the hall below. The smell of humanity and its food hung in the clammy air they breathed. A hum of voices from the many cells of the hive buzzed in their ears. But Joan forgot them all.
She hesitated, embarrassed with the difficulty of finding words adequate to express her thanks.
Austin tried awkwardly to help her out: "Well, I guess it's good night, kid."
She said, exclamatory: "O Ben! I've had such a good time!"
"Dja? Glad to hear it. Will you go again—next week? I guess I can work som'other show, all right."
Compunction smote153 as memory reminded her. "But—Ben—didn't you have to pay for those tickets?"
"Oh, that's all right. I couldn't find the fella I was lookin' for, round back."
"I'm so sorry—"
"Gwan! It wasn't nothin'. Cheap at the price, if you liked it, little girl."
"I liked it awfully154! But I won't go again, unless you show me the pass first."
"Wel-l, we'll see about that." He edged a pace nearer.
Suddenly self-conscious, Joan drew back and offered her hand. "Good night and—thank you so much, Ben."
He took the hand, but retained it. "Ah, say! is this all I get? I thought you kinda liked me...."
"I do, Ben, but—"
"Well, a kiss won't cost you nothin'. It's your turn now."
"But, Ben—but, Ben—"
"Oh, well, if that's the way you feel about it—"
He made as if to relinquish155 her hand. But to be thought lacking in generosity156 had stung her beyond endurance. Without stopping to think—blindly and quickly, so that she might not think—she gave herself to his arms.
"Well," she breathed in a soft voice, "just one...."
"Just one, eh?" He pressed his lips to hers. "Oh, I don't know about that!"
He tightened157 his embrace. Her heart was hammering madly. His mouth hurt her lips, his beard rasped her tender skin. She wanted frantically158 to get away, to regain159 possession of herself; and wanted it the more because, dimly through the tumult160 of thought and emotion, she was conscious of the fact that she rather liked it.
"Joan...." Austin murmured in a tone that, soft with the note of wooing, was yet vibrant161 with the elation162 of the conqueror163, "Joan...."
One arm shifted up from her waist and his big hand rested heavily over her heart.
For a breath she seemed numb137 and helpless, suffocating164 with the tempest of her senses. Then like lightning there pierced her confusion the memory of the knee that had driven her from the car, only that afternoon: symbolic165 of the bedrock beastliness of man. With a quick twist and wrench166 she freed herself and reeled a pace or two away.
"Ben!" she cried, in a voice hoarse167 with anger. "You—you brute—!"
"Why, what's the matter?"
"What right had you to—to touch me like that?" she panted, retreating as he advanced.
He paused, realizing that he had made a false move which bade fair to lose him his prey168 entirely169. Only by elaborate diplomacy170 would he ever be able to re?stablish a footing of friendship; weeks must elapse now before he would gain the advantage of another kiss from her lips. He swore beneath his breath.
"I didn't mean nothin'," he said in a surly voice. "I don't see as you got any call to make such a fuss."
"Oh, don't you?... Don't you!" She felt as if she must choke if she continued to parley171 with him. "Well, I do!" she flashed; and turning, ran up the fourth flight of steps.
He swung on his heel, muttering; and she heard him slam the door to his flat.
She continued more slowly, panting and struggling to subdue172 the signs of her emotion. But she was poisoned to the deeps of her being with her reawakened loathing173 of Man. On the top landing she paused, blinking back her tears, digging her nails into her palms while she fought down a tendency to sob174, then drew herself up, took a deep breath, and advancing to the dining-room, turned the knob with stealth, to avoid disturbing her family.
To her surprise and dismay, as the first crack widened between the door and jamb, she saw that the room was lighted.
Wondering, she walked boldly in.
Her father was seated at the dining-table, a cheap pipe gripped between his teeth. Contrary to his custom, when he sat up late, he was not thumbing his dope. His fat, hairy arms were folded upon the oilcloth, his face turned squarely to the door. Instinctively175 Joan understood that he had waited up for her, that inexplicably176 a crisis was about to occur in her relations with her family.
In a chair tilted back against the wall, near the window opening upon the air-shaft, Butch sat, his feet drawn177 up on the lower rung, purple lisle-thread socks luridly displayed, hands in his trouser-pockets, a cigarette drooping178 from his cynical179 mouth, a straw hat with brilliant ribbon tilted forward over his eyes.
Closing the door, Joan put her back to it, eyes questioning her parent. Butch did not move. Thursby sagged180 his chin lower on his chest.
"Where have you been?" he demanded in deep accents, with the incisive181 and precise enunciation182 which she had learned to associate only with his phases of bad temper.
"Where've I been?" she repeated, stammering183. "Where.... Why—out walking—"
"Street-walking?" he suggested with an ugly snarl184.
She sank, a limp, frightened figure, into a chair near the door.
"Why, pa—what do you mean?"
"I mean I'm going to find out the why and wherefore of the way you're behaving yourself. You're my daughter, and not of age yet, and I have a right to know what you do and where you go. Keep still!" he snapped, as she started to interrupt. "Speak when you're spoken to.... I'm going to have a serious talk with you, young woman.... What's all this I hear about your losing your job and going on the stage?"
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1
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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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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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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bent
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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devoted
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mastication
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jot
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memoranda
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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curiously
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punctilious
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furtively
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peculiarities
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refinements
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fascination
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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adaptability
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| n.适应性 | |
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reticence
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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stuffy
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grievances
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fathoming
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| 测量 | |
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faltering
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vaguely
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misery
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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cubicle
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| n.大房间中隔出的小室 | |
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impaled
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| 钉在尖桩上( impale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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41
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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42
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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43
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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44
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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45
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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46
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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47
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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48
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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49
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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50
wayfarers
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| n.旅人，（尤指）徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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51
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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52
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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53
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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54
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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55
luridly
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| adv. 青灰色的(苍白的, 深浓色的, 火焰等火红的) | |
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56
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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57
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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58
grumbles
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| 抱怨( grumble的第三人称单数 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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59
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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61
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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62
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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63
doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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64
scudded
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| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
detonations
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| n.爆炸 （声）( detonation的名词复数 ) | |
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66
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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67
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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68
sluiced
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| v.冲洗( sluice的过去式和过去分词 )；（指水）喷涌而出；漂净；给…安装水闸 | |
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69
gutters
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| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
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70
brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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71
rivulets
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| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
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72
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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73
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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74
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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75
mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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76
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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77
tenement
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| n.公寓；房屋 | |
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78
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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79
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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80
negligence
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| n.疏忽，玩忽，粗心大意 | |
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81
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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82
aslant
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| adv.倾斜地；adj.斜的 | |
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83
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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84
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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85
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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86
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
limousine
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| n.豪华轿车 | |
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88
repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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89
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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90
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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91
asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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92
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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93
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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94
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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95
conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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96
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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97
educe
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| v.引出；演绎 | |
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98
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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99
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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100
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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101
lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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102
seeping
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的现在分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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103
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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104
tenements
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| n.房屋，住户，租房子( tenement的名词复数 ) | |
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105
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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106
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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107
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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108
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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109
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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110
scours
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的第三人称单数 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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111
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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112
tardily
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| adv.缓慢 | |
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113
enquiring
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| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
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114
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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115
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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116
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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117
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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119
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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120
usher
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| n.带位员，招待员；vt.引导，护送；vi.做招待，担任引座员 | |
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121
weirdly
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| 古怪地 | |
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122
insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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123
concoction
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| n.调配(物)；谎言 | |
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124
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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125
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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126
ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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127
avid
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| adj.热心的；贪婪的；渴望的；劲头十足的 | |
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128
contemptible
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|
| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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129
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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131
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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132
kaleidoscopic
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| adj.千变万化的 | |
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133
sloppy
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| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
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134
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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135
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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136
comedians
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| n.喜剧演员，丑角( comedian的名词复数 ) | |
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137
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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138
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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139
crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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140
tunics
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| n.（动植物的）膜皮( tunic的名词复数 )；束腰宽松外衣；一套制服的短上衣；（天主教主教等穿的）短祭袍 | |
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141
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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142
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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143
baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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144
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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145
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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146
libidinous
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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147
goggling
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| v.睁大眼睛瞪视， （惊讶的）转动眼珠( goggle的现在分词 ) | |
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148
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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149
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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150
idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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151
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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152
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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153
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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154
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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155
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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156
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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157
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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158
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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159
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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160
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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161
vibrant
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| adj.震颤的，响亮的，充满活力的，精力充沛的，(色彩)鲜明的 | |
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162
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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163
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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164
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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165
symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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166
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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167
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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168
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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169
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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170
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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171
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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172
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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173
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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174
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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175
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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176
inexplicably
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| adv.无法说明地，难以理解地，令人难以理解的是 | |
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177
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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178
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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179
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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180
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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181
incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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182
enunciation
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| n.清晰的发音；表明，宣言；口齿 | |
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183
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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184
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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