To make known how much she hath;
And her anger flames no higher
Than may fitly sweeten wrath1.
??Full of pity as may be,
??Though perhaps not so to me.
Browne, “Britannia’s Pastorals.”
I
It is to be feared that the sting of Mr. Will Flynt’s offence lay precisely3 in Jinny’s ignorance of horses, and that if her old companion had come to her aid more tactfully, she would have welcomed his co-operation in the great purchase. But her pride in her work would hardly allow her to admit even to herself that here was a commission perhaps beyond her capacities. Had she not enjoyed an almost lifelong experience of Methusalem? As a monogamist would resent being told he knew nothing of matrimony, so Jinny repudiated6 the notion that she knew nothing of equinity. Besides, the cattle-market was far from seeming so strange a world to her as Will had imagined. Had her cart not often conveyed thence or thither8 a netted calf9, had she not marketed even his own mother’s piglings? A fig10 for the masculine aura! If Mr. Flippance exaggerated after his fashion in declaring she would have undertaken to get him the moon—at any rate it was not the man in it that would have kept her back.
It was, therefore, with a bruised13 and burning but indomitable heart that Jinny went about her work these ever longer days. For women must work, though men may mope. Poor Will, who had nothing to do but to chew his bitter cud of memory, was the more pitiable, and his temper was not improved when early Friday evening the comparatively clean Master Gale17, evidently caught on his way home from school, arrived with “the same as uzual.” This apple-cheeked and white-collared understudy for Jinny was no less an eyesore than Uncle Lilliwhyte, and Will made Martha refuse the parcel on the ground that if they encouraged the lad, it would lead to truancy18. Such was his solicitude19 for the schoolboy whose copy-book he had diverted from its scholastic20 function. But he was not less furious when Farmer Gale brought back the parcel the next morning on horseback and explained amiably21 that he had seen Jinny about it, and that henceforward this overburdened damsel would leave the Flynt parcel with his, and he would have pleasure in delivering it in the course of riding about his farms.
The rain and the cold snap, that had come so suddenly after the quarrel in the wood, was welcome to Jinny in her present mood. For her the summer was over. True, she espied22 its first wild rose, but it reminded her only of a round strawberry water-ice, such as her well-to-do clients spooned at the Chipstone confectioner’s. Everything was gelid, except Nip’s nose, and that but added to her depression. Was the darling feverish23 from the scratches of his spiny24 crawlings, or did he share his mistress’s heavy humours? Her distraction25 might have led to a nasty accident had not the last of the trio kept his head, for in a lonely lane Methusalem, who in these days seemed to whinny his sympathy and nuzzle into her palm with enhanced tenderness, deftly28 avoided the prostrate29 antlered trunk of an oak-tree which had been split and splintered by lightning. Possibly it had lain there since that Sunday’s storm, for her work had not brought her that way. The bark of the whole tree had been peeled off, save for a small patch where a few buds still suggested vitality30, and Jinny had a grandiose31 sense that all nature sympathized with the strange desolation that had come over her joyous32 self.
Her mind turned to fate and constellations33 as she drew up at Miss Gentry35’s door and summoned with a blast that fantastic female, who was feeding the chickens with which she variegated36 life and tantalized37 Squibs. Miss Gentry did not need anything beyond her usual depilatory. It was a standing38 grief and astonishment39 to her that though white lilies (under the domain40 of the moon) will “trimly deck a blank place with hair,” neither Culpeper nor the planets had provided against the contrary contingency41: even fig-wort (owned by Venus) merely removing wens and freckles44. Hence she was reduced to a mere43 chemist’s prescription45: a solution of barium sulphide swayed by no known planet. The stuff came in a pot.
Miss Gentry in ordering it did not shirk the word “depilatory.” On the contrary she pronounced the five syllables46 with a pomposity47 which was the more impressive to Jinny because even “The Universal Spelling-Book” stopped short at four syllables. Not for worlds—whether to her client or the public at large—would Jinny have betrayed her knowledge that the hair-destroyer represented a never-ending battle with Miss Gentry’s moustache. And for the sensitive dressmaker herself the polysyllable was a soothing48 cover. Ostrich-like she hid her head in its spacious49 sandiness.
There was, however, the little matter of Martha’s bleached50 and new-trimmed bonnet51, which Jinny might convey to Frog Farm, and the casual mention that it was Will who had brought it led to considerable conversation. Jinny’s equipage was drawn52 up outside the little garden, where tulips (red, damask, and pink) stood like tall guards before a tropical palace; and Miss Gentry, despite the chill wind, leaned on her garden-gate, carefully nursing her black cat against Nip’s possible swoops53.
The excellent lady, whose erudition Jinny had always absorbed with the reverence54 due to a reader of The Englishwoman’s Magazine, was always delighted to have the girl sitting at her feet—even though to the crude physical vision Jinny always appeared to be sitting above her head, and Miss Gentry to be looking up to her. Sometimes real information from the aforesaid magazine, which bore the sub-title of “The Christian55 Mother’s Miscellany,” was thus transmitted to Jinny; but Miss Gentry’s brain was obviously too cluttered56 up with archaic57 notions to be really beneficial to her young devotee. Thus, although Miss Gentry enlarged Jinny’s mind, it was more a matter of range than of accuracy.
The conversation to-day, however, was on a more personal plane. Jinny was resolved to speak no further word to Mr. William Flynt: his interference was unforgivable. But when it transpired59 that he had brought the bonnet, she did not attempt to check Miss Gentry’s flow of favourable60 comment, still less to contradict it. For a Peculiar61 he was quite the gentleman, Miss Gentry opined, especially after that coarse and flippant Bundock. Not tall enough for her taste, because she thought you ought always to look up to a man; still, handsome in a rough way, despite his ginger62 hair.
“Not ginger!” Jinny protested.
“It shades to ginger,” the dressmaker replied severely63, as an authority upon colours. “But it served to brighten up his face, which was none too cheerful. Born under Saturn64, I should think, and the sign of the Scorpion65.”
“And what effect has that?” asked Jinny, alarmed.
“Well, for one thing it qualifies the unruly actions and passions of Venus.”
“The goddess of Beauty,” observed Jinny, airing her Spelling-Book.
“Of Love,” corrected Miss Gentry.
Jinny’s face shaded towards the colour under discussion, and she cried: “Down, Nip,” to that recumbent animal’s amusement. “He nearly jumped on the bonnet-box,” she explained.
“He should eat herbs under the dominion67 of the Sun,” said Miss Gentry.
“Nip?”
“No—Mr. Flynt. He needs vital spirits.”
“Still, ginger is hardly the word,” murmured Jinny.
“It looks ginger against his clothes,” persisted Miss Gentry. “Of course a man can’t understand dressing68 himself.”
“Why, he’s better dressed than anybody in Long Bradmarsh—except Mr. Fallow,” said Jinny.
Miss Gentry was mollified by the compliment to her pastor2. “All the same his coat wrinkles at the shoulders,” she said. “You notice next time.”
“I’ve got better things to do than to look at Mr. Flynt’s coat-sleeves,” said Jinny. “And I’ll be going on.”
“Well, if you do see him, give him my kind regards,” said Miss Gentry, “and say that any time he’s passing and would like a cup of tea, I’d be glad to discuss the tract26 I gave him.”
“Oh, it’s no use trying to convert him,” said Jinny. “He’s nothing at all.”
“Then why did he go to your chapel69 the other Sunday?”
“Did he go?” said Jinny, amazed. “I dare say that’s what has depressed70 him.”
“He not only went, but with your peculiar ideas of the House of God, he had his dinner there!”
“Oh, no! Why he was dining at ‘The Black Sheep.’?”
“Nothing of the sort. A dressmaker has ears.”
“But a carrier has eyes. And I saw him there.”
“Then I’ll never believe Isabella Mawhood again.”
“I hope you haven’t been making her more vanities,” said Jinny, as she slowly turned Methusalem’s nose the other way.
“Only a new bonnet, you funny little Peculiar. You see the case was coming on at the Chelmsford Sessions, and I should have got a verdict against Mr. Mawhood not only for his wife’s silk dress, but for the chickens his ferrets killed——”
“You issued a replevin, I suppose,” put in Jinny grandly.
“I could have had a tort or a subp?na or anything,” assented71 Miss Gentry, with equal magnificence. “But the defendant72 thought best to compromise. He’s got to clear this cottage of rats for nothing this winter—you know how they come gnawing73 my best stuffs—and in return my landlady74 has to pay for a new bonnet for his wife.”
“But Mrs. Mawhood’s silk dress—who pays for that?” asked Jinny mystified.
“Oh, Mrs. Mott pays for that.”
“But why Mrs. Mott?”
“She didn’t want to have a scandal in the community, and your so-called Deacon swore he hadn’t got the money. They make Mrs. Mott pay for everything nowadays.”
“It’s too bad,” said Jinny. “And Mrs. Mawhood comes out of it all with her dress paid for and a new bonnet.”
“Well, she does become clothes more than her sister-Peculiars, I must say that—present company excepted! That old rat-catcher’s lucky to have got such a young wife for his second, even though he was her third.”
“She’s not so young,” said Jinny.
“She’s no older than I am,” persisted Miss Gentry. “And born, like me, under Venus.”
Jinny suppressed a smile. Despite her respect for Miss Gentry she had never accepted her standing invitation to explore the Colchester romance. Unread in the literature of love though she was, the girl’s natural instinct refused to see the middle-aged77 moustachio’d dressmaker as the heroine of a love-drama. Her affair with the angel seemed, indeed, to place her apart. “I think it’s disgraceful to have had three husbands,” she insisted.
“Not at all, when each is a Christian marriage, and the first two spouses81 have been duly taken by an overruling Providence82. Of course the unhallowed romance one inspires is another thing. As I always say to Bundock—oh, we ought not to have mentioned names, ought we, Squibs dear? Please forget it.” She stroked the cat in her arms. “But there, Jinny! You can’t understand these things—you too were born under Saturn.”
“How do you know that?” Jinny was vaguely83 resentful.
“You’re so cold-blooded—perhaps it was even under the constellation34 of the Pisces—the Fishes, that is. You’ve never taken the faintest interest in Love. Do you know, I made a rhyme about you the other day.”
“A rhyme!” Jinny was excited. “Do tell me!”
Miss Gentry shook her head. “You wouldn’t like it.”
“Oh, but I must hear it.”
Miss Gentry continued obstinately85 to stroke Squibs. But finally, as if electrified86 by the fur, she broke out like an inspired pythoness, in a weird87 chanting voice:
“When the Brad in opposite ways shall course,
?Lo! Jinny’s husband shall come on a horse,
?And Jinny shall then learn Passion’s force.”
Jinny was so overwhelmed with admiration88 at the poetry—quite on a par16, she felt, with the pieces of “The Universal Spelling-Book,” especially as the Rhyme or “jingle in the ear” was on the very pattern of the model verse there given:
Prostrate my contrite89 Heart I bend,
My God, my Father and my Friend,
Do not forsake90 me in the end
—that she could hardly take in the sense at the moment.
“How lovely!” she said.
“I’m glad you’re satisfied. It means, of course”—Miss Gentry firmly explained the oracle—“that you’ll never marry, being as incapable91 of Passion as the Brad of flowing backwards92 and forwards at the same time.”
A strange protest as written in letters of fire crept through all Jinny’s veins93. Even her face flamed. She began “clucking” to Methusalem to start.
“And I’ve made one about Mrs. Mawhood too,” pursued the pythoness, now irrepressible. “I don’t wish her ill, but I’m afraid it’ll prove true, poor thing.” And without waiting to be discouraged, indeed, following the already moving cart, she chanted:
“She may look to South, she may look to North,
?But the finger of fate hath forbidden a fourth,
?And the rat-slayer, clinging to life and his gold,
?Shall dance on the grave where she lieth cold.”
“Not dance!” laughed Jinny, relieved at this diversion.
“Well preach—it’s just as bad, when a man’s not ordained,” said Miss Gentry, and this being the signal for a theological assault, Jinny drove off rapidly.
II
But she had no intention of bearing the bonnet to Frog Farm. Nor, despite the account that Farmer Gale had given of the new parcel arrangement, had she really agreed to establish him as sub-carrier-in-ordinary. He was too moneyed and important for that, and she found it hard enough to accept the favour of being driven to and from chapel in his dog-cart—a favour necessitated96 by her grandfather’s and even her own ideas as to the indecorum of their business cart. Besides, she had almost resolved to seek his advice, perhaps his help, in the famous horse-purchase: anything rather than break down before Will! So she must not overdo98 it. No, Master Peartree, for all his novel churlishness, must convey the bonnet. He could scarcely be treated like Farmer Gale’s boy, and if they did refuse it at his hands, still it would only abide99 next door.
The shepherd-cowman was not, however, to be found in his accustomed haunts, and she lost a good hour in hunting for him in the various mutually distant pastures to which he led his ever-edacious sheep. None of the men ploughing the great red fields for turnips101 had seen him pass. At last, by the aid of a taciturn lout103, who was driving a tumbril laden104 with hurdles105 and backed with a tall crate106, Master Peartree was located in the farm buildings at the other extremity107 of Farmer Gale’s estate in a barn-like structure facing a long row of cart-sheds.
Skirting a sunless pond that was scurvy108 and ill-smelling, she drew up at the gate and blew a summons on her horn, but its only effect was to startle the chickens pecking in the litter, and the piglings fighting to snatch their mother’s garbage from her tub or to nuzzle at her teats. There was nothing for it but to carry the bonnet-box to the barn, for the great farmyard was too mucky to drag her cart through. Picking her way among the strawy compost heaps, she divined why her horn had brought no answer: it had been deadened by a melody proceeding109 in a lusty tenor110 voice from the tall folding-doors, and this—somewhat to her surprise—was none other than the air of “Buy a Broom.”
It forced her to polka to it the rest of the way, and although she must fain trip gingerly mid76 the manure-heaps and the melody had ended with applause before she reached the thatched structure, still it was with a brighter feeling that she found herself at the open doors. But the first glimpse within made her turn pale and draw back a little. The scene she had so unexpectedly stumbled upon was the stranger and grimmer for the silence that had now fallen, though the faces of the shearers astride the struggling sheep were still lively enough. Master Peartree had his boot over the head of a recalcitrant112 lamb, which but for her recent adventure she would have imagined choking.
But it was not the ungentle shepherd that made for her the centre of the picture, for among these men in dirty green corduroys and rolled-up check shirt-sleeves, whose legs gripped grunting114, wheezing115, struggling or feebly kicking sheep, was one in cleaner clothes, whose bare, brawny116 arms gave her a sharp sensation, almost as if he had nipped her with the shears117 he held in his palm. Was it boredom118 or the need for his labour that had enlisted119 Mr. William Flynt in this service? She did not know, but pale and dumb she retreated from the unconscious Will, whose sheep, wedged between his legs, hung limp with meek120, helpless eye, the very image of a sacrificial victim, and was being sheared121 with the meticulous122 concentration of the outsider bent66 on showing he is not inferior to the professional. And indeed Will’s was the sole sheep, she saw at once and with admiration, that though nearly bare of its wool showed without blood-fleck: a consummation to which its prudent123 lethargy had doubtless contributed. Young Ravens124, on the other hand, who was now lying with both feet on his animal, had nicked it on ear, leg, and breast: apparently125 one could not serve two masters—song and scissors.
Perceiving Jinny with her bonnet-box, this young humorist now sang out the old street-cry: “Buy a band-box!”
The chaff126 stayed her retreat and stiffened127 her trembling form.
“Hullo!” she retorted, with less than her usual wit. “Back again like a bad penny.”
Even as she spoke128 she saw Will and his sheep give a spasmodic start, and the first speck129 of blood appear on the flawless skin. But the shearer111 did not look up, although he automatically stretched out his hand for the ointment130.
“Do ye don’t struggle,” observed Master Peartree amiably to his youthful ewe. “Oi’m not so strong.”
As nobody said anything further, and Master Peartree, intent on his lamb, did not look up, Jinny too stood silent for a moment with her incongruous bonnet-box; recovering her sang-froid, and watching a catcher trying to drive in an unshorn lamb from the pen in which it had cowered131 and which it now ran round, bleating132, terror-stricken and unseizable. She wondered if its heart were thumping133 more wildly than hers. Not that there was terror in her own breast—rather a strange exultation134 that her presence had had power to incarnadine the immaculate sheepskin. But her eyes roamed shyly from Will and his nipped victim, and studied with elaborate attention the divers95 coloured show-cards of the successful ram78 lambs that made their vaunt upon the beams or along the sloping walls, through which the thatching stuck pleasantly. Her mind went back to that sunny, bracing135 day in February, to the immense pastoral landscape of straw-roofed sheep-pens, ooze136, mangold heaps, and haystacks, on which she had chanced when the lambs now so agitated137 were new-yeaned: some only an hour or two old, with long skeleton legs and bodies smeared138 as with yellow gold. How friskily139 they had soon learnt to leap on their mother’s back! That day she, too, had been as untroubled, needing no outside melody to brisk up her pace.
Young Ravens, inspired by his new audience to a fresh burst of melody, started on “The Mistletoe Bough140,” the old ballad141 she had heard sung in the cottages at Christmas sing-songs, and which she now for the first time connected with the play on Mr. Flippance’s posters.
“Hullo, Jinny,” said Master Peartree at last, her presence slowly percolating142. He finished his rebellious143 lamb and patted it forgivingly on the back, remarking genially144: “Get up and let’s have a squint145 at you.” And as it trotted146 out happily, he threw its fleece—too small to wind up—on to a great heap in the corner and fell to work on a sheep.
“You’ve just done’em when it’s turned cold,” protested Jinny.
“Ay, ’tis a pity,” said Master Peartree. “But first we couldn’t get the labour, and then that rined and their wool was too damp, but Oi need ’em now for the early market.”
“I know. I’m buying a horse there,” said Jinny.
Another tinge42 of red appeared on the blameless skin of Will’s victim.
“Methusalem ain’t damaged hisself?” asked Master Peartree in concern.
“Oh, no, he’s outside your gate, damaging your hedge.”
“Then whatever do you need another for?”
“Oh, just to ride over somebody. But I wish I’d known you needed labour.”
“Why, want a job?” grinned Jim Puddifoot, a giant in a brimless hat, who was sharpening his shears on a piece of steel. There was a snigger from his mates.
“What’s the pay?” said Jinny, who had been thinking of Uncle Lilliwhyte, lately gravelled for lack of purchasers of his woodland pickings.
“There’s half a suvrin a hundred,” said Master Peartree as seriously, “and four quarts o’ beer.”
A great shout of laughter rose from the hired men: only Will went on shearing147 with apparent imperturbability148, while a third carmine149 speck defaced the smooth surface of his martyred sheep.
“Where’s the laugh?” inquired Master Peartree.
“Don’t rob a poor man of his beer,” carolled young Ravens. “She don’t drink,” he broke off to explain.
“Yes, I do, I drink like a fish. Water, that is, like that does.”
This time even Master Peartree laughed, while Jim Puddifoot, raising his tin mug without a handle to his mouth, cried “Here’s to you,” and young Ravens lifting up his pleasant voice trolled forth151:
“Robin he married a wife in the West,
???Moppety, moppety, mono.”
Little stabs and pricks152 were going through Will’s breast, and still more through the skin of his sheep. As the chorus, from which Jinny’s little trill was not excluded, took up:
“With a high jig153 jiggity, tops and petticoats,
???Robin-a-Thrush cries mono,”
it seemed to Will as if Jinny was carrying on like a flash lady in a boon154 company. A high jig jiggity, indeed! Releasing his victim at last, he picked up its fleece sullenly155 and teased a tail out of it, wherewith, rolling up the rest, he proceeded to tie the bundle in a silence that the singing rendered still grimmer.
“What’s that you’ve got there, Jinny?” asked Master Peartree, becoming suddenly aware of the bonnet-box.
“That’s for you,” she said.
“Me! Oi ain’t got no womankind, thank the Lord.”
Again Master Peartree had touched unintentionally the springs of laughter. Will pinned the frightened ewe-lamb, now caught and as dumb as himself, between his legs, and plucked a few preliminary bits from its breast with his fingers.
“But it’s Mrs. Flynt’s bonnet,” explained Jinny, “and will you oblige me by taking it back to-night?”
The snick of young Flynt’s shears sounded savage156.
“That Oi won’t,” said Master Peartree, “seein’ as here stands her boy Willie hisself.”
“Oh, does he?” said Jinny. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Ay, that he do. And even dedn’t, he arxed me not to do your job agen, time Oi took in that liddle ole horn.”
The new ovine martyr150 bounded. Quite a patch of its skin had been replaced by blood.
“Steady, Willie, steady!” cried Master Peartree. “Oi was afeared musicianers ain’t no good for shearing.”
“It’s this silly, jumping beast,” growled157 Will, breaking his obstinate84 silence.
Jinny was still tendering the bonnet-box to Master Peartree. “Well, give it to him then.”
“Can’t he take it straight?” asked the shepherd, clipping busily.
“That silly, jumping beast is too much for him as it is. He daren’t let go. I’ll leave the bonnet-box for him.”
“Ain’t no place here—’tis too mucky.”
“?‘Buy a Broom,’?” hummed Jinny, and young Ravens, smiling, seized a besom and swept vigorously at the stale and droppings. “Oh, I can’t leave it here—the sheep might stave it in,” she said.
“Leave it in the store acrost the yard—the key’s in the padlock,” said the shepherd. “Oi count Willie’ll take it home, same as he ain’t cut hisself to pieces.”
Another roar from the others—this time Master Peartree beamed, and it might have gone ill with Will’s lamb had the shears not slipped from his palm.
“Well, but when folks go woolgathering,” remarked Jinny blandly158, “they forget things. I’ll put it in the store, but I won’t be responsible.”
“Tell her I won’t forget it,” roared Will, who was picking up his shears in the gymnastic attitude necessitated by the palpitating sheep between his legs.
“Oi reckon she can yer for herself,” said the shepherd na?vely.
“Of course I can hear,” said Jinny. “But tell him to tell his mother that the bill’s inside.”
“Oi reckon he can yer too,” said the puzzled Peartree.
“He doesn’t listen much to women,” explained Jinny. “You ask him if his family wants anything else from Chipstone.”
“Well, there he stands—you can arx him, can’t you?”
“Well, don’t I stand here, too?” said Jinny. “And why doesn’t he answer?”
“He’s too shy,” sniggered Ravens, and burst out again:
“With a high jig jiggity, tops and petticoats.”
“Shut up!” snarled159 Will.
“?’Twas you asked me to sing,” retorted Ravens.
“That’s so, Willie,” said the shepherd. “You should say you loved to yer ‘Buy a Broom’ and all them old songs. Why don’t you answer, Willie?”
“Because there’s nothing to say,” Will roared. “We don’t want nothing whatever from her.” He was not often so ungrammatical, but anger knows no pedantry160.
“Well, why couldn’t he say so at once?” said Jinny, and whistling “A dashing young man from Buckingham,”—whistling was a new brazenness162 in Will’s ears—she picked her way across the miry yard to the weather-boarded, tarred, and tile-roofed structure that stood on six mushroom-topped pillars, whose smoothness offered no purchase for rats. Ascending163 the steep steps, she deposited the bonnet-box betwixt the chicken-corn and the eggs. While padlocking the door again, she saw to her surprise that Methusalem was inside the gate, labouring towards her through the mud. The faithful animal, impatient for her, had evidently lifted the latch164 with its nose, aided perhaps by its teeth. The tears came into her eyes: some one at least did want her, and there was a long, affectionate contact between that clever, velvety165 nose and Jinny’s palm. Then she returned to the shearing-barn and handed Master Peartree the key.
“Good day and thank you,” she said. “I reckon I shall meet you at the cattle fair.”
She did not wait to see if she had drawn blood from the sacrificial lamb; but, rounding her lips again, whistled her way jauntily166 back to her cart. As she drove along, the sun, struggling through a high cloud-rack, showed like a great worn silver coin, and the shorn sheep gleamed fairily white on the great green pastures. But there was an ache at her heart, which the delicious wafts167 from the early-mown hayfields only made emptier.
III
The shabby little cart with the legend of “Daniel Quarles,” and the smart dog-cart of Farmer Gale, rolled side by side of a Monday morning in the restored June sunshine towards the Chipstone cattle-market. Jinny had timed this coincidence, and meant to extract the farmer’s opinion of the horses for sale. She had already gleaned168 from her grandfather what particular teeth were chronological169, but such confidence as she possessed170 in her own “horse-sense” had been rudely dissipated by a volume on the noble animal, which she had unearthed171 in Mother Gander’s sanctum. The lists of diseases and defects from which it might suffer was paralysing, and even when it was a thing she had heard of—like grogginess—it grew more sinister172 by being called “navicular disease.” Methusalem’s maladies had been simple enough, and she had dared to drench173 or anoint him with divers remedies. But now that knowledge had dissipated the bliss174 of ignorance—now that warts175 had enlarged into “angleberries,” rheumatism176 had darkened into “felon,” and farcy, quittor, Ascaris megalocephala, and countless177 other evils were seen hovering178 around Methusalem, thick as summer gnats179, she marvelled180 how he had staved them off. That poor Methusalem! An affectionate animal by nature was the horse,—the book told her—he wanted to please man, only sometimes he was in agony and the flesh could not obey. Good heavens, what if sometimes when she was in a hurry to get home, she had wronged Methusalem, even in her thoughts! Remorsefully182, and with a new and morbid183 anxiety, she caressed184 his delicate, nose, amazed at her ancient, easy assurance of his immortality185. It even shook her faith in the all-sufficiency of the Spelling-Book that it contained no intimation of the ills that horseflesh is heir to.
And the animal she had now to buy for Mr. Flippance might be affected186 with all or any of these ills, and even if one could detect such obvious defects as windgalls, spavin, thorough-pin, or broken wind, how avoid a crib-biter or a wind-sucker, how grapple with the bot-fly, two hundred of which could hook themselves horribly to a single equine stomach, or with the still more formidable Palisade Worm, which even its name of Strongylus armatus could scarcely worsen, a thousand of it having been counted by a patient authority on a surface of two inches, and its census188 taken at a million for a single horse!
Farmer Gale, however, failed to throw much light on these alarming questions, which he did not know, indeed, were being asked. His conversation kept gliding189 away to his grievances190, for it consisted, like that of most farmers, of grumbles192. Usually these started from the little string-tied sample bags of threshed grain he carried in his pocket to be blown and tasted by hard-bargaining customers. But to-day, though he was not bound for the corn-market, he was nevertheless not to be baulked of his grievances. They were not, this time, against Nature, but against Man; for, as the fields they passed showed, the corn was particularly forward. It was not Providence that had run down wheat to thirty shillings a quarter. Free Trade was in reality the ruin of free Britain. For the labour of Continental193 slaves, who went with the soil, and were sold with it like cattle, who subsisted194 on black bread, skim-milk, and onions, was brought into competition with that of the freeborn Briton, who must thus be dragged down to the same level.
The bluff195, freeborn Briton was Farmer Gale’s favourite r?le, and his ruddy face, grey bowler196, and smart gaiters made him sympathetic enough superficially, while the potent197 landowner’s consideration for Jinny’s religious necessities had not failed to evoke198 a flattered gratitude199 in her humble200 breast when they drove together of a Sunday to their respective chapels201. This amiable202 image of himself the breezy Briton was now destined203 to shatter. For after some critical comment on the ploughing of the fields they passed and the activities of the poachers—he would certainly have to get rid of that suspicious character, “Uncle Lilliwhyte,” who occupied a cottage badly needed for a farm-hand—he pointed204 out the impossibility of building another cottage as Jinny had so crudely suggested. Prices were simply ruinous.
“I tell my labourers as man to man,” he said emphatically, “that they can’t have regular employment and their present wages. Take your choice, boys, says I. Look at other countries, do they get more than their six or seven shillings a week? No! Then that’s what you’ll have to come down to.”
“But how can they live on it?” asked Jinny.
“How can farmers live?” he retorted. “We must go by the price of corn.”
“But did you go by the price of corn after the Battle of Waterloo?” asked Jinny shrewdly. “For I remember Gran’fer once telling me you got—I mean your father got—a hundred shillings a quarter then, yet folks were so starved they went burning the ricks.”
“I was only a baby then. I can’t say what happened.”
“But the same thing happened nearer our time,” she reminded him, thinking of the Bidlake tragedy.
“Oh, that silly rioting and machine-smashing. That always came out of the poor not understanding politics. If things were bad after Waterloo, it was all Bony’s work. And as for the unrest twenty years ago, we caught that from France, too, I remember dad telling me. They had risen against their king—such an unsettled people. But to-day it’s our own British Government that’s the enemy, and the money we farmers have lost this year is something dreadful.”
“But you don’t look as starved as some of our labourers’ families. I’ve seen the Pennymole children crying for dry bread, and the father saying, ‘I darsn’t cut you no more—do, ye’ll have none Saturday.’ And Mr. Pennymole’s always worked for you.”
“You don’t understand politics, Jinny.”
“I understand poverty. The Pennymoles are better off, now they’ve got two boys grown up and earning sixpence a day. But I’ve seen Mrs. Pennymole making tea with charred205 bread, and her husband compelled to steal the cabbages left for the cows. . . . Oh, I oughtn’t to have said that,” she added in alarm.
“You certainly oughtn’t! Compelled to break the Eighth Commandment—a pretty doctrine206! And such liars75, too. I saw quite a little girl munching207 a turnip102 she’d just filched208 from my field, and when I complained to her mother, the woman unblushingly said, ‘’Tis me fats her up with swedes and turnips.’?”
“They can’t see their children hunger.”
“They can put some of them in the poorhouse.”
“Look at the mites209 there, white and half-starved. Sometimes I’ve got to deliver a parcel to Mr. Jims, the porter, and I hear the Master thrashing ’em with a stick.”
“And it’s what boys need—even my brat210. Carrying parcels, indeed!” He stopped abruptly211.
“Well, but they make the old folks of eighty and ninety scour94 the stone steps and do the washing!”
“They needn’t go in—they can get relief from the parish.”
“The parish! Eighteenpence a week for the family when the father’s bedridden.”
“There’s the parish loaves!”
“Have you ever seen one? Half-baked, without real crust, all raw and soft, where it stuck to the next loaf.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, there’s plenty of work after harvest.”
“Yes, even for babies of six,” said Jinny bitterly. “And to keep boys from their beds after hard field-work. And at White Notley where they make the silk, there’s little girls standing on stools to reach the weaving-desk.”
“If you understood politics,” Farmer Gale persisted, “you’d understand that prices make themselves, and that what we get with one hand we have to give away with the other. Have you ever heard of the Income Tax now?”
“No,” admitted Jinny.
“Ha! You’d change your tune212 if you had to pay a shilling on every pound you earned. But that’s merely the last straw that breaks the camel’s back, for it isn’t only as a farmer I’m put upon. But think of the Malt Tax! It’s simply a scandal.”
“Is it? I should have thought ’twas six shillings a week would be the scandal.” Her eyes and cheeks blazed prettily213, and she was beginning to shelve the idea of consulting her companion at the horse-market.
“I don’t say you’re altogether wrong,” conceded Farmer Gale, admiring, despite himself, her fire and sparkle. “But it’s the Government that’s responsible. There was a great old meeting t’other day at Drury Lane Theatre in London. Two thousand people, if a man. The Duke of Richmond he up and said by Heaven we’ve got to have Protection, and we will have it. Oh, it was a grand speech. I went up for it express. And we’ve had a meeting of farmers down here, too, and we’re going to wake up the country, we Essex chaps.”
“Are you?” said Jinny, secretly amused at this “furriner’s” complacent215 identification of himself with her county.
“You wait! We’re going to come out with a Proclamation.”
“But that’s a Royal thing,” said Jinny.
“Not always: besides we shall end with God save the Queen. Yes, that’s it: ‘Down with the Malt Tax and God save the Queen!’ And the beginning: ‘To our worthy216 labourers, greeting.’ I’ll draw that up soon as I get home.”
“I should offer ’em ten shillings a week,” said Jinny.
“You’re joking!”
“I’m dead earnest. A family can’t live under ten shillings a week. Then they wouldn’t want to shoot your rabbits and steal your turnips and cabbages.”
“Prices make themselves, I tell you. Folks can’t have more than they’re worth. Why, my dad paid as much as thirteen shillings a week to our old looker, Flynt, when he had his strength. Yes, though nobody ever suspected he got more than twelve.”
“But besides his duties as bailiff he had to see after feeding the stock night and morning, including Sundays.”
“That was why my father paid him the extra shilling. And you can’t say I haven’t treated him generously over the farmhouse217.”
“I wonder he could bring up such a large family so genteelly,” mused214 Jinny at a tangent.
“The more the easier. A brat of four can scare the crows: the only pity is that his boys wouldn’t stay on the land.”
“What was there to stay for? I think there ought to be a law that nobody gets under ten shillings,” persisted Jinny.
“What a blessing218 we haven’t got women over us,” said the farmer, smiling at a heresy219 too unreasonable220 for argument. “Men Governments are bad enough, but women would drive us to the workhouse.”
“And what about the Queen?” asked Jinny.
“Well, what about the Queen?” he repeated vaguely.
“Isn’t the Queen a woman?”
“The Queen a woman!” He was dazed. “But she doesn’t really govern—not nowadays. It’s Lord John!”
“Well then, what about Queen Elizabeth?”
“Ah, that was some time back,” he said evasively.
“Yes, she put on the crown in 1558, November 17,” quoted Jinny from that Spelling-Book.
“I didn’t know you were so well up in history,” he said admiringly. “I reckon you’re ready at ciphering too?”
“How could I do my work without it?”
“Ah, that’s true. And a good hand at a pen, I suppose?”
“I can scratch what I want.”
“Ah!”
He fell silent.
“You don’t play the piano?” he asked after a pause.
“No,” said Jinny. “Only the horn.” And she blew gaily221 upon it: whereupon to her surprise and satisfaction—for she had forgotten him, and it was necessary to tie him up against the sheep—Nip appeared, tearing from the rear. Farmer Gale watched musingly222 the operation of confining him to his basket by one of those pieces of hoop-borne rope that had excited the speculation223 of Mr. Elijah Skindle.
“I suppose you could play a polka on it,” he remarked.
Jinny obliged with a few bars of the “Buy a Broom.”
“If you had a piano,” he observed with growing admiration, “I expect you’d soon learn to play it on that.”
Jinny shook her head. “I shall never have the time. There’s the goats, and the garden, and Gran’fer, and Methusalem——”
“Nearly all g’s,” laughed Farmer Gale, exhilarated by his own erudition.
“And isn’t Methusalem a gee224?” flashed Jinny, and exhilarated him further by her prodigious225 wit.
They were both smiling broadly as, just outside the market, they came upon Will leaning against a lime-tree, a pipe between his teeth and a darkness palpable on his forehead despite its “ginger” aureola.
Jinny’s smile died and her heart thumped226. Instantaneously she decided227 that as the farmer had seen them together at “The Black Sheep,” to ignore Will absolutely would be to betray their quarrel to the world.
“Fine morning!” she cried as the vehicles passed. Will sullenly touched his hat.
He was amazed that the Cornish potentate228 should countenance229 her presence, so incongruous amid this orgie of untempered masculinity, this medley230 of unpetticoated humanity of every rank and class, of which drovers twirling branches or leaning on sticks formed the ground pattern: small farmers rubbing shoulders with smart-gaitered gentry in frilled shirts; blue-aproned butchers with scissors at breast jostling peasants in grimy smock-frocks and squash hats or ruddy, whiskered old squires231 and great grazier farmers in blue, gilt-buttoned coats, white flap buff waistcoats, and white pot or broad-brimmed hats; still more elegant town types in glossy232, straight-brimmed cylinders233 and double-breasted, green frock-coats galling234 the kibes of bucolic235, venerable-bearded ancients in fusty sleeved waistcoats and greasy236 high-hats, who blew their noses with black fingers. It was a fantasia of pipes and caps, of immaculate collars and dirty scarves, of broadcloth cutaways and filthy237 Cardigan jackets, of top-booted buckskins and corduroy trousers tied with string below the knee. As Jinny and Farmer Gale alighted, and mingled238 with this grotesque239 mob swirling240 around the pens in the sunshine, Will’s heart was hot with resentment241 against the girl who, while rejecting the counsel and co-operation of her old friend in the great horse-deal, had brazenly242 accepted the guidance of a bumptious243 “furriner.” How shamelessly she walked amid that babel of moos, baas, grunts244, shouts, and bell-ringing, as if here was her natural place. Really, to see smoke puffing245 publicly out of her mouth, as it had puffed246 privately247 out of that Polly’s, would hardly be surprising now. And the men were looking after her, there could be no doubt of that, appraising248 her as if she, too, was in the market. He could not but feel a faint relief that she was under substantial masculine escort, however abhorred249.
The market-place, along which our quite unconscious Jinny was now making so indiscreet a tourney, was constructed outside the town proper, bordered on two sides by lime-trees and open to the sky save in the auction250-room and bar, where walls and roofing gave a grateful shade, though the company in either did not contribute coolness. The cattle were shuffling251 about restlessly, jostling, mounting. The store calves252 and bullocks lay in pens; the fatted calves had already been sold: pathetic plumpnesses about to be butchered. Butchers, indeed, were already emerging from the auction-room leading struggling strap-muzzled calves by head-ropes, and holding on—for extra precaution—to their tails.
“Poor creatures!” said Jinny, with tears coming to her eyes.
“Yes, a poor lot!” assented Farmer Gale, and if Will could have felt the flash of scorn that went through Jinny’s heart, he would have scowled253 less. There was a store calf, stamped in blue, so tiny that Jinny longed to mother it. Here again the farmer blundered: he doubted if anybody would buy it; at least it would be killed instanter to be mixed with pork for sausages.
He was a widower254, Jinny remembered, and the line in the Spelling-Book defining that word floated suddenly before her illumined mind: “Widower—One who has buried his wife.” There had always seemed to her something superfluously255 sinister in that definition—as if the husband had personally put his wife out of the way, or at least made sure she was disposed of. Was a man a widower whose wife had been burnt up, she had wondered whimsically. Or if Miss Gentry had been married and gone to sea and been duly drowned, would her husband have been free to remarry? But for Farmer Gale at least, how pat was the definition, she felt. He assuredly suggested the wilful256 widower: this man without entrails of mercy, whether for the poor or for beasts.
She moved away silently, trying to lose him, looking for the horses. She passed pens of sheep, and dogs (only a few of these, and tied), and cows with swollen257, oozy258 udders. There was a sheep nibbling259 at a fallen lime branch outside its pen, and another shoving hard to displace him. Jinny picked it up and gave it to this covetous260 creature, who sniffed261 and then turned away. There seemed to be a sort of Spelling-Book moral in it. Before the pigs (red-crossed and blue-marked) she found Master Peartree in rapt contemplation.
“The pegs262 be lookin’ thrifty263 and prosperous,” he observed, in response to her asking how he found himself. “They don’t need no auctioneer’s gammon.”
“No pig does,” punned Jinny.
“Ah, here we are!” said a less welcome voice—Jinny maliciously265 referred Farmer Gale’s “we” to his juxtaposition266 with the pigs. The uneasy capping and ducking of the shepherd-cowman before his master, and his moving off towards his own animals, suggested that pigs were a private passion with Master Peartree. But he had brought up the memory of the shearing-shed, and with it the renewed thought of Will, and it was a tenderer thought than for the potentate at her side. Will might be stubborn and silly, but never, surely, would he deny that no family should have less than ten shillings a week: she felt relieved she had broken the ice between them, even though “Fine morning” was only a little hole in it.
As if echoing her thoughts, “Fine morning!” said the pig-auctioneer to Farmer Gale. It was a special mark of attention from this gentlemanly-looking man, elevated on a massive stool, who wore gaiters and a great gleaming signet-ring that showed as he turned the pages of a written catalogue. This was kept by elastic267 strings268 in a grand calf cover, though pigskin would have seemed more in keeping. Two acolytes269, standing on the ground, scribbled270 in their lowliness. Buyers sat on the rim5 of the pens, with their feet dangling271 over the pigs, and the pig-drovers hovered272 near, in their long high aprons273 of coarse brown sacking.
Soon Farmer Gale became as fascinated as Master Peartree, for the pigs did indeed look “thrifty and prosperous,” and as the penful was on the point of falling to a low bid, he nipped in and secured a bargain. While he was complacently274 cutting away bristles275, signing his acquisition with his scissors, Jinny stole away, feeling he was safely penned.
IV
Will had long since disappeared from her ken12, but when she came to the long roofed place, open at the side, where beribboned and straw-plaited hacks276 and draught-horses were tied to their staples278, there he was, chained just as firmly by a sort of sentinel stubbornness. It was as if he was saying “Through my body first!” The thrill his proximity279 gave her was shot through with a renewed resentment against this obviously undiminished opposition280 of his. But she was resolved to meet him with banter281 rather than with anger.
“You buying horses?” she said genially.
“No, I am not buying horses!” he answered roughly. “But aren’t you ashamed to be here—the only one of your sex?”
“Surely not!” said Jinny. “Where’s your eyes?”
He looked round, wonderingly.
“Under your nose!” guided Jinny. “There, isn’t that a mare282? And I passed sows and ewes and heifers by the score.”
“And that’s what you class yourself with? And then you deny you are lowering yourself!”
“I always lower myself when I get off my cart.”
“Well, you get up again! That’s the best advice I can give you. Drive home!”
“And shirk my job!”
“I’ll do your job.”
“You! I thought you were not buying horses.”
“You know what I mean. How much does old Flippance want to give?”
“Oh, he’s not so old,” she said evasively. She was scanning the horses with troubled eye, perturbed283 even more than by her own affairs by the thought of the innumerable diseases and defects and doctorings which might be lurking284 beneath their sheen of health and vigour285. Her innocent faith undermined by literature and Mr. Flippance’s experience, she had a cynical286 sense of horsey hypocrisy287, of whited, blacked, or browned sepulchres, within which fearsome worms burrowed288 in their millions. She would have gladly consulted Will, had he not been so tactlessly intrusive289. Even as it was, she murmured encouragingly: “There doesn’t seem much choice to-day.” Indeed, the animals were mostly huge shire horses with their heavily feathered fetlocks. Of hackneys there were only two or three.
“I should take that Suffolk Punch,” advised Will, indicating a chestnut291. “He’ll have the strength to draw the caravan292, and doesn’t look so clumsy and hairy-legged as the others.”
“I like the star on his forehead,” said Jinny. “But I can’t bear a cropped tail, it’s cruel. Besides, Mr. Flippance hasn’t got a caravan.”
“Well, how does he carry all that truck I saw?”
“Oh, that goes in wagons293 with horses just hired from town to town. They don’t even live in a caravan like Mr. Duke’s got. No, but they have a trap that they drive over in, ahead, and then Mr. Flippance uses the trap to look for a pitch to hire, or to bring home naphtha for the lamps or timber for mending the theatre—something always goes wrong, he says.”
“Then I’d have the Cleveland?”
“Which is the Cleveland?”
“That tall bay with black points and clean legs. I’ve hardly ever seen one at an Essex fair, but they’re strong as plough-horses and handsome as hackneys.”
“But don’t you think that couple there are handsomer?”
“The black—of course! They’re a pair of real carriage horses. Splendid action, I reckon. But Mr. Flippance won’t want anything so showy as that.”
“Just what a show does want,” laughed Jinny. “You see he also rides about the town, blowing on the horn and scattering294 handbills.”
“I didn’t understand that. And can he blow a horn as well?”
“As well as who?”
“As me!” said Will boldly. “And when am I to have my gloves?” He sought her hand in the press and it was not withdrawn295.
“When you go blowing it for Mr. Flippance in his next town,” she laughed happily.
“Then I must choose the horse I blow behind,” he said with an air of lightness. “What’s the most old Flippance will go to?”
“Thirty pounds is his last word, I’m afraid.”
“Much too little. But we’ll see. Now I’ll take you back to your cart.”
“What for?” Her hand unclasped. “I’ve got to buy the horse, I must wait here.”
“But they’ll be taken in there.” He pointed to the cattle auction-chamber297. “And there’s no need for you to bid personally.”
“I shall enjoy bidding.”
“Among all those men? You won’t even get a look in.”
The chamber was indeed besieged298 by a seething299 crowd, some standing on tiptoe, astrain to get their bids marked.
“I’ll borrow one of those pig-dealers’ stools,” she said.
“Do be serious, Jinny.”
“And do you suppose my work is a joke?”
“But you can’t squeeze in that crowd? Suppose we find out the owner and get one of the black horses by private treaty?”
“And pay the market fee? Not me! Besides, he’ll want a top price and there’s more fun and chances in bidding. Oh look! that poor Cleveland’s got himself all tangled300 up! Do help him!”
It was not easy to release the animal which, having encoiled its legs in the rope attached to its staple277, was getting more and more frightened as its own efforts lassoed it the tighter. Jinny’s heart beat fast lest Will should get kicked, and still faster at the nonchalance301 with which he accomplished302 his dangerous task.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly, when the animal stood shaking, but quiet.
“It’s not your horse.”
“But I asked you to do it.”
“Then you might do what I ask you?” he retorted.
She frowned. She did not like this tricky303 tit-for-tat. It was unchivalrous. It undid304 his deed of derring-do.
“You must not interfere58 with my business,” she said severely, and swept to the nearest door.
“Jinny! Where are you going?” He had followed her.
“To the bar!” she said solemnly, perceiving the nature of the forbidden chamber. “Why can’t I have a drink and a smoke? What will you take?”
He gasped305, believing her serious. So female smoking even in public was no impossible foreboding. To this buffet306, blockaded by laughing, swilling307, tobacco-clouded masculinity, mitigated308 only—if not indeed aggravated—by a barmaid, Jinny was actually going to wriggle309 her way! And the buffet did not even sell milk!
“You shan’t go,” he said in a low hoarse310 tone, clutching at her arm. “By God, you shan’t!”
But he succeeded only in grasping her dangling horn, and, in her dart311 forward, it was left in his hand. “I didn’t ask you to ‘take’ that!” she laughed back as she crossed the threshold. “I meant, what’s your drink?”
“Jinny!” he breathed, his voice frozen.
“Mine’s ink!” she called out gaily, and the males, now aware of her presence, vied with one another to pass the bottle and pen on the counter to her, together with the little bowl of sand, all of which she bore to the quiet side of the room, where a protracted312 desk supplied facilities for notes and accounts. Reassured313, but still resentful, Will stood at the door, awkwardly holding her horn with its bit of broken girdle, and watching her protectively as she scribbled on a piece of paper, and blotted314 it with the sand. Then coming back to him, she took away her horn—not without a reproachful glance at the snapped cord—and putting her folded paper into his hand instead, glided316 past him and was lost in the hurly-burly.
Disconsolate317, yet excited, he opened the note, and read this wholly unexpected quatrain:
??????????????Swearing
Of all the nauseous complicated crimes
That both infect and stigmatize318 the Times;
There’s none that can with impious Oaths compare,
Where Vice97 and Folly319 have an equal Share.
This rebuke320, drawn from the endless thesaurus of “The Universal Spelling-Book,” and not original even in spelling, Will believed to be Jinny’s own composition, and as inspired as it was, alas321! deserved. Wonderful that Jinny could sit down in all that turmoil322, in that smoky, gin-laden atmosphere, and pour out these pure bursts of song. Surely Martin Tupper, the mighty323 bard324 of the day, whose renown325 had reached even Will’s illiterate326 ears, could not better them. And what was he, Will, beside her, he whose own claim to literature rested upon an imaginary exposition of Daniel! Smarting with self-reproach, he deposited the note where once her glove had rested—it should be a text of warning henceforward.
But if she was thus marvellous, still more necessary was it to withdraw her from these unfitting atmospheres, and he returned more tenaciously327 than ever to his equine watch, like a picket328 in a camp.
V
Meanwhile Jinny had blotted herself out in the crowd around the sheep-auctioneer, who towered in the midst of his dirty-white sea, yelling “All going at thirty-five shillings apiece!” or striding from pen to pen across the bars, while the buyers ruddled their lots with their mark, and the drovers cleared for him ever fresh passages among the swirling sheep, and acolytes kept parallel to him outside the fold with their ink-horns and notebooks.
But she had only fallen from the frying-pan into the oven, for suddenly she became conscious that Farmer Gale was again at her side.
“Got your horse yet?” he inquired, with his breeziest British smile.
“Sale not on yet,” she answered coldly.
“Then come and see the bullocks sell.”
Jinny, pleading she must go to the horse sale-room, moved away towards the congested chamber. He followed, smiling.
“Why, that is where they’re selling the bullocks now,” he said.
Her brain was seeking for a further pretext329, when she caught sight of the sentinel Will frowning furiously in her direction. If she slipped in now, further argument from him would be nipped in the bud, and silently she followed the robustious widower through the hole he bored into the seething mass.
The entry of a female attracted no general attention, for it was impossible for the squeezed buyers to see more than the backs and sides of their immediate330 neighbours, even if all eyes had not been on the auctioneer and on the beasts which occupied the central ring, in the brief moments of their glory.
He stood at a raised desk, this master of the revels331, in his shirt-sleeves, with a little stick for hammer: a clean-shaven man, with the back of his long head almost straight, and further lengthened332 and straightened by the continuation down it of the central parting of his neatly333 combed hair; the face bulging334 forward and into a massive mouth and chin. He was flanked by two young bookkeepers, one spotty-faced and spectacled in a Scotch335 cap and loud tweeds, and one bareheaded and demure336; and around him on the rising benches of an amphitheatre rose a mass of masculinity surmounted337 by small boys. Drovers chevied in the “lots”—stuck with paper numbers—through large double wooden gates, and back—after their great moments in the ring—to their pens, through a smaller folding gate. The beasts did not always listen proudly to their praises: the more modest, instead of showing off their beauties, preferred to nose restfully about the straw of the floor, and had to be prodded338 into circular activity by the sticks of drovers who, as the bullocks went sullenly round, looked like a prose variety of picador in a toy arena339. And throughout fell the auctioneer’s patter, sometimes suave340 and slow, but for the most part staccato and breathless. “Who will say seventy shillings? Property of Mr. Purley of Foxearth Farm. And a crown. You all know Foxearth Farm. You all know the hurdle-maker. And his herds341 are even better than his hurdles! Who makes level money? Going, going——”
“No, don’t you be going,” said Farmer Gale smilingly. For the girl had begun to edge out. She felt herself uncomfortably pressed. Why, it almost seemed as if Farmer Gale’s arm were round her waist. Good heavens, it was! And what was more, his body barred her movement outwards342.
“Take away your arm,” she whispered fiercely.
“I’m protecting you from the crowd,” he whispered back. “They’ll break your ribs343 in.”
“Take it away!” she hissed344. But he feigned345 not to hear, and his eye being now on the arena, not on her, she was too shy to struggle and make a sensation. The horn in her hand also impeded346 her efforts to extricate347 herself. Furious and flushing, she was forced to stand there, while the auctioneer’s prosy patter beat down on her brain in a maddening ceaseless pour: “Selling to the highest bidder—no reserve. A big bullock. In your hands. Start the bidding, please. To be sold without reserve, I say. How much? Come on! Look at his fat! Thank you. Seven pound, fifteen—nine pound, ten—a great big bullock. I’m selling him without reserve. He is to be sold whatever he fetches. Ten pound, two and six. Going! No, not gone yet! Going——!”
“I must go!” repeated Jinny. “I must inspect the horses.”
“You’ll see them better in the ring here.”
“Let me go! I’ll never drive to chapel with you again!”
“Why not, Jinny?” He bent down with sudden passion, all the cautious Cornishman’s long-wavering desires clenched348 by the discovery of her high educational endowments and concreted by actual contact with the desirable waist. “Why not go to chapel together and be done with it, once for all?”
“Done with what?” she murmured, reddening.
“Separating. Let me keep off the crowd always.”
“Hush! They’ll hear you.”
“No, they won’t. What do you say?”
“Be quiet! I want to hear the bidding.”
“Shall we publish the banns?”
Jinny closed her lips obstinately.
“Won’t you speak? You know I can buy out half Little Bradmarsh.”
In her silence the voice of the auctioneer possessed the situation.
“The best heifer for the last—maiden349 heifer, beautiful quality. Fourteen pound. Marvellous creature, marvellously cheap. Won’t anybody start me?” The drover prodded the prodigy350 up, and she trotted round dismally351.
“Fifteen,” cried a squeaky voice.
“Fifteen,” echoed the auctioneer, cheering up. But his gloom soon returned. For the bidding refused to advance. “Being badly sold, this heifer,” he wailed353.
“By crum, he’s right!” quoth the Cornishman, pricking354 up his ears. “Sixteen pound!” he cried aloud, and was already congratulating himself upon his bargain, when, like the voice of doom355, came the squeaky “Seventeen!”
Farmer Gale was piqued356. “Eighteen,” he said surlily.
“Twenty!”
It was a staggering blow. But it only raised the farmer’s blood. “Guineas!” he cried.
“Twenty-two pounds!” chirped357 the voice.
“Twenty-two pounds!” repeated the auctioneer insatiably.
Beads358 of perspiration359 and hesitation360 appeared on the farmer’s brow. In his concentration on the problem his arm relaxed. Jinny stepped aside, and men unconsciously made way for her.
“Guineas!” cried the farmer.
“Twenty-two guineas!” repeated the auctioneer. “A beautiful maiden heifer—never had a calf. Going——”
But this time Jinny was really gone. She would not even risk waiting outside to hear the result, but in generous gratitude at her escape, she hoped he would at least secure the maiden heifer.
VI
The sight of Will still at his post suggested to her with a little qualm that he was not so wrong: these male environments were not without their drawbacks.
“Those horses seem to fascinate you,” she said, with a little tremor361 in her voice. Whether Will or the violence just done to her was the cause of it, she did not quite know. But her mood was melting and her eye the brighter for a soft moisture.
But how was Will to follow her vagaries362 and adventures?
“That’s my business,” he answered gruffly.
“I thought it was mine,” she laughed. She was quite prepared now to make it a joint363 affair.
“You know my opinion on that,” he said icily.
“You haven’t changed it yet?” she bantered364.
“Why, what should happen in these few minutes to make me change it?”
“Things do happen in a few minutes,” she said mysteriously. “Why, I might have come back and bought up the whole show.” She waved her horn comprehensively over the horses.
“What rubbish you do talk!” he said impatiently.
“Do I?” She fired up. “There’s others think differently.”
“If they think differently, it’s because they think lightly of you.”
“Lightly, indeed!”
“Yes—they do. To drag you into an indecent sale-room!”
“Indecent?” She flushed, wondering if Will had seen that circumambient arm.
“It’s all indecent—all that talk about heifers. I don’t wonder you blush.”
She laughed, relieved. “I’m blushing for you. You do talk such rubbish!”
“There you go with your cheek!”
“It’s only what you just said to me.”
“I said it because you do talk rubbish.”
“And you talk rubbish in saying it.”
“Well, go to those who talk sense, Miss Boldero!” And he pulled out his pipe and matches with a symbolic365 gesture.
“What an obstinate creature you are, Will!”
“Me obstinate! Why, ain’t it your obstinacy366 that keeps you here, when I’m ready to do your job?”
“I told you I preferred to do my own jobs.” And with that she went straight up to the black hackneys, and while Will puffed volcanically367, she learnedly examined their teeth through tear-misted eyes that saw neither incisors nor age-marks. Then, after carefully prodding368 their ribs and punching and poking369 them about, as she had seen purchasers do with bullocks, she swept haughtily370 towards the auction arena, but afraid of encountering the farmer, she hovered uncertainly on the threshold, feeling like a bundle of straw between two donkeys.
Gradually she realized, and with enhanced resentment, that she was the donkey; that both these men had deceived her in representing the cattle-arena as the selling-place for the horses. By the crowd that began to accumulate round the horses, and to blot315 out the patient sentinel, as the hour for their sale approached, it became plain that they would be sold where they were tied, and presently the motley crowd, swollen by many of the cattle-auctioneer’s audience, thrilled with the coming of this heavy-jowled worthy, who had not turned a hair of his neatly combed chevelure.
The biddings were not brisk. To Jinny’s joy only the heavier animals, the plough-horses and the cart-horses, seemed in demand; the cobs and the ponies371 went for a song. The sable372 steeds she had selected as the only suitable ones came late—most of the animals had been released from their staples and led off by their new masters. To her dismay the hackneys were put up as a pair, and all her pride seemed falling into ruin. Fortunately, not provoking a bid, they were then put up separately, and Jinny set the ball rolling for the first with a brazen161 offer of ten pounds.
For a moment she thought gleefully that the horse was to be hers at that—for nobody there seemed in quest or in need of carriage horses—but under the auctioneer’s scoff373 a few bargain-hunters soon raised it to twenty, and then to Jinny’s alarm—for her margin374 was getting dangerously narrow—to twenty-four. At twenty-five the bargain-hunters fell off, and a new voice intervened—a husky voice that seemed to mean business, and whose every counter-bid filled her with dismay. At its twenty-eight pounds the auctioneer still upheld his stick with scorn and incredulity. She was almost at her bids’ end. “Twenty-nine pounds,” she cried crushingly. This time the voice seemed indeed silenced. She fully4 expected the stick to fall. But at the first “Going,” though there had been no sound, the auctioneer cried cheerily, “Thirty pounds.” Evidently somebody else had nodded or held up a finger. Inflamed375 by the fever of the struggle, she was impelled376 to risk even her own earnings377, if Flippance would not go so far. “Thirty-one pounds,” she cried ringingly. “Thirty-one pounds,” echoed the auctioneer with a promising378 accent of finality. “Thirty-two pounds,” he added instantly, and this silent competition was even more crushing than the huskiest bid. It put out her flame of recklessness, and her heart sank with the stick, as despite all the auctioneer’s derisory deprecation, that wooden finger of fate fell finally at this truly absurd figure.
Then the name of the unseen silent buyer transpired. “Mr. William Flynt!” proclaimed a familiar voice. A blaze of positive hatred379 ran through all Jinny’s being. The brute380! The obstinate pig! To come interfering381 with her daily work, with her bread and butter! To ride his will roughshod over hers! And not only roughrider, but coward, sneak382, traitor383! Had he not wormed and wheedled384 out of her the limit of her commission and thus romped385 in, an easy winner! And he would take his purchase to Mr. Flippance, she supposed. Yes, he was already paying in full—she saw him now, near one of the clerks, drawing a pocket-book out of the region of his black heart; he was in a hurry, he would hasten with the animal to Tony Flip11. But not so fast, O dashing young man from Canada! Flippance is a man of honour, he will repudiate7 the purchase. And the second hackney still remains386. The biter is bit—the pit you have digged shall engulf387 you.
But what was Jinny’s horror and indignation when this young man from Canada, now shamelessly revealed, instead of going off with his spoil to Mr. Flippance, remained and ran up the second horse with his serpent’s tongue at still greater speed, as now cocksure of her limit. This time in her fury she ventured as far as thirty-five—it was useless. With a recklessness still more magnificent he cried “Forty,” and with a chill at her heart in curious contrast with the glow of hate at it, she felt that all was over. Was it of any use bidding even for the few mediocre388 animals still possible? Would not this brutal389 monopolist buy up the whole bunch—even as she had, oddly enough, hinted a few minutes before about doing? Yes, there was nothing his masterful obstinacy would boggle at in its resolve to crush her will. He still stood by the horse-enclosure in unrelaxed vigilance. Before she could arrive at any decision, her mind was still further unhinged by the simultaneous appearance of Nip and the advent113 of pandemonium390.
Whether it was Nip that had produced the pandemonium, or the pandemonium that had liberated391 Nip, Jinny never knew. The fact was, however, that Farmer Gale, waking to find himself outbidden for the heifer and disappointed of his maiden, had retreated fuming392 to his trap, and hearing Nip’s revolutionary yaps for freedom in the adjacent cart, had loosed him out of some vague instinct of malice—kindness he called it to himself, so unacknowledged was his desire to thwart393 the will of the creature’s mistress. A final kick administered to the retreating jump—also apparently as a kindly394 encouragement to the freed dog’s progress—had not proved conducive395 to the equilibrium396 of an animal already deranged397 by a long-iterated grievance191 and an unexpected freedom, and his helter-skelter pelt398 through the market-place not unnaturally399 startled the nerves of not a few fellow-quadrupeds, already shaken by the strange journeyings and novel experiences of the day. But it was not until the sheep were reached, that Nip’s passing became a public episode.
There had even before been numberless difficult scenes with the sold lots; the effort to muster401 them for their new journeyings had sufficiently402 taxed the lungs and tempers of men and sheep-dogs. When Nip appeared, the normally stolid403 Master Peartree was waving a giant red handkerchief and screaming wildly, while demented-seeming drovers, formed into a half-ring, danced and shrieked405 like savages406 at a religious service, and waved sticks with a ritual air, and the sheep-dog leapt round and round, chevying the flock in the desired direction. In this delicate crisis, Nip’s rush of recognition at Master Peartree proved the last straw. One super-terrified wether threw the flock into a panic. The sheep rushed to and fro and everywhere (save where the sticks and shrieks407 pointed); and going thus everywhere, they went nowhere, jumping on and over one another’s backs as in a game of leap-lamb. Some darted408 back into alien pens, and the sheep-dog, itself distracted, leapt from back to back of these, baying and menacing with feverish futility409. It was like a stormy sea of sheep, in which man was tossed about as in a tempest. There were sheep standing on their hind296 legs as if dancing, there were men clinging on to these legs or to tails or to rumps, and pushing, pulling, and wrestling with them, but never ceasing to yell and chevy. Finally a rescue party appeared with a five-barred gate, which they moved this way and that, striving to cut off at least one of the ways of escape. But this only drove more sheep back into the wrong pens, where they seemed hopelessly mixed up with lots still unsold. Jinny had never imagined sheep such lively and individual lunatics. Now the intruders were being dragged out by the wool of the head or the rump, or half-carried, or wholly kicked; again the five-barred gate was brought into play, this time to keep them away from the pens, and then, wherever the eye turned, were these tempestuous410 billows of sheep. They bounded, reared, wrestled411, danced, pranced412, flew wildly at tangents: some escaped towards the town, and everywhere men screamed, scurried413, bellowed414, waved hands, or brandished415 sticks. Nip, his head equally lost, seemed to be doing every one of these things at once, whether ovine or human. And Jinny, in her anxiety to capture him, to remove him, unseen, from the Witches’ Sabbath she feared he had called into being, forgot all about the other possible, if inferior, horses. By the time she had refastened Nip and returned to the sale, the stick had fallen for the last bid. She was just in time to see Will springing on one barebacked steed, and leading his beribboned brother by a cord. And despite all her anger and contempt, she could not avoid a thrill of admiration for the grace of his poise416 and the fearlessness of his carriage. And a dull aching pain began at her heart. She felt she wanted something; she had missed getting something—and obscurely she told herself it was the horses he was leading away. Yes, as a Carrier she was a failure.
VII
And then suddenly the jovial417 figure of the Showman panted into view. His face was unshorn, unwashed even, although abundantly irrigated418 with perspiration, and he wore a low-crowned vast-brimmed hat and an unseasonable fur-lined cloak reaching almost to his slippers419 and fastened at the neck by a brass420 buckle421. Although Jinny always had a soft place in her maternal422 heart for Mr. Flippance, nobody could have been more unwelcome at this moment of her professional humiliation423. But before she could confess her failure, Tony Flip gasped out: “A horse! A horse! My kingdom not to have it!”
“How do you mean?”
“Am I too late? Have you bought it yet?”
“Not yet!” said Jinny.
“Thank God!” He grasped effusively424 at her hand, but encountering the horn first, shook that instead, without apparently noticing the difference. “Just as I woke up, it popped into my nut that this was the morning of the cattle fair. Out of bed I flew like from that bed in the Crystal Palace that chucks you out by a spring, and though I mayn’t have beat the half-mile record, I’m beat myself! Whew! Not a bad gag, that!” And mopping his brow, he grinned through a grimy handkerchief.
“I thought you looked odd,” said Jinny, equally relieved.
“Yes, I know my collar’s a rag. But better sweat than debt, eh?”
“It’s not your collar—it’s seeing you out of your dressing-gown at this hour!”
“You’re a quiz, that’s what you are,” laughed Tony.
“Never mind! That cloak comes nigh it, and you’ve still got your carpet slippers.”
“Have I? O Lord! I thought the road was feeling hard. Is that a bar I see before me?”
“It is,” said Jinny severely. “But while you’re still sober, perhaps you will tell me why you’ve changed your mind about the horse?”
“Because I’ve done with marionettes. I’m going back to the legitimate426.”
Jinny was puzzled. “To your wife, do you mean? I thought she was dead.”
Tony roared with laughter. “You little country mouse! And yet you’re right. The legitimate is the missus I should never have left—the drama with a big D. I don’t mean the drama with swear words—ha, ha, ha! but the real live article. You see, Duke and me, we’ve agreed to swop back.”
“What for?”
“What for? Why, that’s just the trouble. For a consideration, says that son of a horse-leech. And I say that’s blood-sucking. Good idea! Why shouldn’t you be arbitrator?”
The word, which was unfortunately absent from the Spelling-Book, suggested nothing to her but being hanged, drawn, and quartered, like a rebel whom Gran’fer had once seen executed. But she was afraid of being again set down as a country mouse, so she replied cautiously: “I haven’t the time!”
“Oh, I’ll pay you your time. Yes, you’d be the ideal arbitrator,” cried Mr. Flippance, catching427 fire at his own idea. “To begin with, you know nothing about it. So that’s settled, and you shall drive me to Duke’s caravan this very morning.”
“Not if I have to wait for your drink.”
“The way you drive a man not to drink is awful,” he groaned428. “Never mind. I’ve got cool again. Talking to you is as good as a drink. Guardian429 angel!” He squeezed her horn.
“You see,” he narrated430, as they drove townwards, “Duke turned up here with the Flippance Fit-Up on Saturday night, and struck an awful frost.”
“So he told me,” said Jinny. “I met him yesterday when I came out of chapel, and I told him what a roaring trade you were doing.”
“My preserver! Then it’s to you I owe it he’s hankering for his own show back again! Not that he could expect to do any business in my own town, or indeed any other. He forgot that while I, unseen, can be Duke, the public won’t look at him for a moment as Flippance. He takes the name of Flippance in vain—the public knows the difference between a barnstormer and their own Tony. To say nothing of that mincing431 little Duchess after my full-throated, full-bosomed Polly. Poor dear Polly—pining away pulling strings!”
“Why, she told me,” said the astonished Jinny, “that she wouldn’t go back on the stage for all the treasures of the Crystal Palace.”
“Ah, that’s her unselfishness—bless her!—her own crystal soul. She knows how the stage tries her pa’s nerves. But haven’t I stood by her side as we jogged the figures and seen her poor phiz working at the thought of being cut off from her public like in a diving-bell? She takes things hard, does Polly, not like the Duchess, who’s got no more temperament432 than a tinned sardine433. You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”
“If you mean Mrs. Duke, she was with him yesterday. A pretty, blue-eyed woman, with golden hair.”
“Oh, is it golden this season? But have you seen her act, I mean?”
“I’ve never seen a play at all!”
“Tut, tut, tut! Then you’ve never seen Me!”
“Oh—you seem to me a play all the time,” she said candidly434.
He was not displeased435. “Then you do have an idea what a play is?”
“I’ve seen Punch and Judy—and the Christmas mummers.”
He laughed. “Well, if Polly was working Punch and Judy from behind, there’d be more life and go in her than there is to the Duchess when she’s on the stage playing Juliet. The public won’t pay to see a china doll. But my Polly! I tell you that standing with the strings in her hand, with nobody’s eye on her but mine and her Maker’s, and in a space where there isn’t room to swing a cat, I’ve seen that girl raging and shouting and tearing about with the passion of the scene till I’ve had to wake up too, and we’ve gone at it ding-dong, hammer and tongs436. And with three figures each to work, and voices to keep changing, it’s no mean feat290, I can tell you. Duke and his Duchess now, when they worked the figures, used to just stand like stocks, saying the words, no expression or movement, except in the marionettes.”
“But if the public sees only the marionettes——!” said Jinny.
Mr. Flippance shook his head. “There’s no art in cold blood. Not that marionette425 art hasn’t got its own special beauties, and I freely admit that in puppetry proper I’m not in it with Duke, who was born into the business, and who cut and fitted the figures himself. Lazy though you think me, how I’ve sweated to get those things right! What an ungrateful swine the public can be for one’s pearls!”
“What kind of pearls?” asked Jinny.
“Why, when a character takes up a glass of wine, for instance, and drinks it.”
“Well, I shouldn’t applaud that,” laughed Jinny.
“There you are!” he said with gloomy triumph. “The public can’t see the cleverness of it. But if you remember the delicacy437 it takes to manipulate the figure from behind, to make it clutch the glass just right, instead of pawing the air, to make that glass come accurately438 to the mouth, you’ll see the countless chances against perfection. Talk of the corkscrew equilibrist at Astley’s! Why, Jinny, when that glass sets itself down again without accident, there ought to be applause to make the welkin ring. But not a hand, not a hand!”
“Well, but it can’t seem very wonderful from the front,” said Jinny.
“It would if people had brains to think. For every joint in the human body there’s a joint in Duke’s marionette, and for every joint in Duke’s marionette there’s a separate string to pull. Every art has its own ideal, and for a puppet to sit down safely is a greater success than for a Kean to play Shylock. Though, of course, all this must be Greek to you.”
“But when I’m thinking of the fun of Punch and Judy,” said Jinny shrewdly, “I can’t think of the cleverness of the showman pulling the strings—otherwise I should forget the figures weren’t alive, nor the story real—the two things contradict one another.”
“By Jove! I think you’ve hit it,” said Mr. Flippance, more gloomily than ever. “They take the standard of drama—not of mechanical miracles. And that’s why they applaud most at the easiest effects, just shouting and blood and thunder, and that’s why I’m sick, I mean, why Polly is sick of the whole business. Take our tight-rope dancer now. I don’t say she’s as graceful79 as a live dancer at Richardson’s, or pirouettes like the Cairo Contortionist of my young days at Vauxhall. But she’s far more wonderful. A live tight-rope dancer can, after all, only fall downwards439 if she makes a slip. But ours, instead of tumbling down, might fly up like a balloon, or even just miss the tight-rope and dance on nothing like you see a murderer at Newgate. But the public take the standard of the ballet or the queens of the tight-rope, and instead of giving us a hand for the cleverness in the making and dressing of the puppet, and another hand for the putting life into it, and a third hand for the dexterity440 of the manipulation, there’s times when we get no more recognition than if ’twas a monkey-on-a-stick. I tried to educate ’em by letting ’em see the strings or the wires—I mustn’t tell an outsider what they are exactly—I flooded my stage with light. Duke, now, used to keep his scene particularly dark with the fantoccini.”
“What’s fantokeeny?” asked Jinny, imitating his mispronunciation as best she could.
“They’re the figures that are more mechanism441 than character—balancers, pole-carriers, stilt-walkers, spiral ascensionists, and this tight-rope dancer I’m telling you of. Duke’s idea was to keep the mechanism dark.”
“That seems to me best,” said Jinny.
“I don’t agree,” said Mr. Flippance. “There’s the scenic443 effects to consider. Darken your scene and you hide it.”
“But if you light it, you show up the way it’s done,” Jinny urged.
“Unless you show ’em the way it’s done, how can they appreciate the way you do it? But there, I’m done with it! Let Duke have his pony444. Polly shall tread the boards once more.”
“Does he want you to give him a pony then to change back?”
“That’s it, the son of a Shylock.”
“Then you will want a horse after all?”
“A pony—you little innocent—means twenty-five pounds. I suppose, though, that’s about the value of a pony.”
“It depends who’s bidding against you,” said Jinny ruefully.
“Well, anyhow, that’s what the bloodsucker wants—the twenty-five pounds he gave me he wants back again.”
“But if he gave it you, why isn’t it fair to give it back?”
“Ah! You’re beginning to arbitrate, are you? Well, then! It isn’t fair because I get back the Flippance Fit-Up tarnished445 and depreciated446 by the performances of that howling amateur and his squeaking447 doll of a Duchess. Besides, I don’t want the ‘Fit-Up’ particularly, only my trade-mark back, the world-famous word, Flippance, for I am going to stay the whole year here in Chipstone—you see what lots of people there are on market days—-Mother Gander’s buying a bigger hall for you Peculiars—haven’t you heard?—and me and Charley have worked it with her to sell me the old chapel. I’ll easily get it mortgaged, licensed448, knocked into shape, and enlarged—that piece of ground between the gate and the doors is wasted at present, and there’s an American capitalist keen to come in—I met him just now riding a black horse and leading another—and what better omen14 could man desire? The Flippance Palace I shall call my theatre—suggests the Hyde Park success, d’ye see? And when that Crystal show is over—it won’t run beyond October—I’ll have the Queen’s elephant standing in my lobby! Lord, it’ll draw all Essex! Chipstone’ll become the capital!”
These sudden pieces of information left Jinny gasping449. The old chapel thus whisked away from under her feet, and turned into a gigantic Punch-and-Judy show sent her world reeling; while Will, transformed into a theatre proprietor450, seemed rapt away to unimaginable heights—or depths. But she did not quite believe it all.
“And what does Miss Flippance say?” she murmured.
“Polly? She’ll be off her nut with joy. Why, she’s such a glutton451 for work, is that girl, that when we played The Mistletoe Bough she used to play Lady Agnes in Act I and her spirit in Act II (after she’s killed by being shut up in the box, you know), and actually double the part with that of her maid, Maud, who has two quick changes from jacket and petticoat to tunic452 and trunks, and back again to bodice and skirt, not to mention slipping to and fro ’twixt spirit and flesh. She’s pining away to a spirit herself, poor dear, for lack of her real work. Only we mustn’t break it to her before the deed is done—or rather signed. The poor girl would insist on sacrificing herself. But after all I’ve saved thirty pounds—you realize I won’t need a horse now—so even if I pay him twenty-five, I make a fiver. Not a bad morning’s work, eh, my dear? We’ll get a good stock company and give ’em everything from the Bard to burletta, and I’ve got some lovely ideas for taking plays out of Mr. Dickens’s novels. Oh, we’ll wake up the old place. Charley knows some local girls that would come in splendidly for ballets and choruses, and there’s a wonderful scene-painter, too, down here—a chap I knew at the ‘Eagle’ in London—he’s lost his job and come down to his folks to get cured—his hand shakes a bit still, but he’s a marvel181, I promise you, the days he’s not sewn up.”
Accepting this synonym453 for intoxication454 as referring to the medical operations upon the unfortunate artist, Jinny received the statement with an admiring commiseration455.
“And haven’t you got a friend, a wonderful expert in costumes?” Tony rattled456 on.
“Me?” she murmured, puzzled.
“A sort of bearded lady from a French convent, a cranky old Catholic who talks with angels, but is a dab187 all the same at dressmaking——!”
“You don’t mean Miss Gentry?”
“That’s the name. We’ll appoint her wardrobe mistress.” Never had Jinny known him so happy and gaseous—and, paradoxically enough, the more he poured out, the more inflated457 he got!
“Miss Gentry’ll never enter a theatre,” said Jinny assuredly.
“We shall see. Wardrobe Mistress to the Flippance Palace, Chipstone. Think how that will improve her billheads! And there’s you, too! Why should you waste a first-class stage presence on carrying? You carry yourself too well for that, eh? Ha, ha, ha! A thinking part, perhaps, to begin with, but with your good speaking voice——”
Before Jinny had encountered the full shock of this new proposition, Mr. Flippance broke off and besought458 her frenziedly to drive down a side street. As she obeyed, she realized that they had just escaped Polly—though a Polly hardly recognizable in that houri in white, creamily jacketed, bonneted459, gloved, and, above all, veiled, whom only her massive tread betrayed as charmless.
“You see,” explained Polly’s pa, “it doesn’t do to argue with women you’re fond of: you’ve just got to do what’s best for ’em. Duke now, he’s very weak with women: ’twixt you and I, he only got my Fit-Up because the Duchess, tired of working in the dark and of blushing unseen, wanted to show off what you call her blue eyes and golden hair. She tried pulling his strings—see?—and he, having no backbone460, jigged461 about at her pleasure. But now, to my thinking, Duke’s found out what a fool she’s made of him and of herself, too. For, of course, she’s mucked up his business. Polly mayn’t be a Venus, but she’s stunning462 in her make-ups—I assure you such a great artist is that woman, that seeing her standing in the wings at the first dress rehearsal463, I’ve more than once fallen in love with her myself—till, of course, she opened her mouth. Yes, Polly can always have blue eyes and golden hair, but the Duchess will never have talent if she rehearses till doomsday.”
“Then is Mr. Duke satisfied to go back to the illegitimate?” asked Jinny.
He laughed at the word. “To the marionettes? That’s what Duke wants the twenty-five pounds for,” he answered. “He’s lost heavily, and he’ll be able to show her a quid pro15 quo—or rather twenty-five of ’em—ha, ha, ha! All the same, we’d better not talk business if the Duchess happens to be at home. She may have her hand too tight on his strings.”
“But what shall we do if she’s in?”
“I shall only say I’ve looked in to congratulate her on her successes!”
“Oh!” Jinny was seriously shocked, and Mr. Flippance, realizing that her conscience was as “country” as her vocabulary, had the shrewdness to say he was only joking. “Besides,” he added, “she’s sure not to be at home in the morning.”
“Why not?”
“Because she won’t have her hair on.”
“But how could she go out then without it?”
Tony made as if to pinch her cheek, as if nothing else could adequately express his acute sense of her simplicity464, but she guarded deftly with the horn; rapping him, indeed, on the knuckles465 with it.
“Why, Jinny, you hurt me,” he said ruefully.
“Well, remember I’m not a marionette.”
“You’re certainly not a woman of the world. The Duchess wouldn’t let us in, I mean, but that’s just what we want, provided we can get Duke to exit.”
In another minute or two she drove him up to the back of “The Learned Pig,” and alighting, they picked their way through the undulating and muddy enclosure, grass-grown, and strewn with logs, where the caravan was stationed. There was really a pig there (duly styed in his very dirty academy), besides pecking poultry467 and pathetic rabbit-hutches agleam with eager sniffing468 noses, and a flutter of washing, and two shabby traps, holding up their shafts469 like beggars’ arms. But the caravan itself illumined the untidy space with its gay green paint, its high yellow wheels, its spick-and-span air, culminating in the lace curtain of its tiny arched window. Mr. Flippance dragged his slippers up the step-ladder, and Jinny, having by this time gathered what an arbitrator was, followed in his wake, prepared to undertake this or any other job.
But the Duchess did let them in—more, she opened the door herself, looking indeed too lovely for anything but a doll, and suggesting by her rising and falling eyelids470, her smiling lips, and her mobile hands that she was equipped with all the most expensive devices.
Duke, habited in an old-fashioned blue coat with brass buttons, was discovered poring at a desk over a long, narrow account book: he was an elderly and melancholy471 young man, with bristly black-and-white hair and small pig-eyes set close together. The stamp of aspiration472 and defeat was set pathetically upon the sallow face he turned over his shoulder to his visitors.
Jinny was not edified473 by Mr. Flippance’s pretence474 that she—Jinny—was the sole ground for the visit. She had, he said, been driving him home from the market, where he had gone to dispose of a horse, and he had taken the liberty of bringing her to see their “wonderful” caravan, finding, to his amazement475, that she had never been inside. For once the stock Essex epithet476 was justified—it was indeed a “wonderful” caravan, and the interior so took up her attention that for some time she failed to follow the conversation, though she had a dim uneasy sense that it continued—as it began—with scant477 regard to the ethics478 of the Spelling-Book. The gay paint and the neat lace curtains had prepared her for an elegance479, and even an airiness, that were not to be found within the caravan. But little else seemed lacking. For into this cramped480 wheeled chamber, looking scarce larger than her own cart, and certainly not so large as Commander Dap’s cabin in the Watch Vessel481, was packed not only a complete cottage with its parlour, living-room, bedroom, scullery, and kitchen, but the mantelpieces and chests of drawers were as crowded with china dogs and shepherdesses as Blackwater Hall itself, besides a wealth of pictures, objects of art, posters, and inhabited birdcages, to which Daniel Quarles’s domain could lay no claim. Not that there was really more than one undivided space, or that you could tell where one room ended and the other began. Nevertheless, all the different sections were clearly visible, though a square yard here or there did double or treble service, forming part of this or that room according as you looked at it. Most clearly marked, of course, was the bedroom, consisting of a raised, neatly counterpaned bed, like an upper berth482 in a ship, and a chest of drawers topped with ornaments483, though the kitchen with its grate and oven and flap-table ran it close, in every sense of the phrase. Amid these poky surroundings, the Duchess’s blue eyes and golden hair shone so sunnily and veraciously—taken unawares as she seemed—that Jinny, ignorant she was expecting a visitor, felt that Mr. Flippance was as unjust of judgment484 as he was loose of statement.
But an interior so foreign to her experience affected her with all the pleasurable interest of drama, apart from the comedy of which she felt it to be the setting, as, awaking again to the conversation, she heard the two males still keeping it carefully away from the negotiation485 pending486 between them, and evidently hard exercised—despite gin from an improbable corner cupboard—to keep the ball of nothingness rolling. Painful silences fell, which a linnet and a goldfinch mule487 strove loyally to fill, but which remained so awkward that she herself was constrained488 to enter into the conspiracy489, though only by way of genuine admiration. Admiration of the caravan—a ready-made thing that went with Duke—was by no means, however, the admiration the Duchess wanted, and as she failed to extract it from poor Mr. Flippance, fidgeting under Jinny’s Puritan eye, she fell back on a tribute of her own to herself, recounting tediously the triumphs of her tour, and calling on her partner for corroboration490, which he supplied in joyless monosyllables.
All Flippance’s interjections with a view to stem the stream and divert the conversation to a pretext for Duke’s exit with him were like straws tossed before a torrent491. But presently there came relief—though the plot thickened, Jinny felt. There was a sound of footsteps on the ladder, and, “Ah, there’s Polly!” the monologist492 broke off.
If Jinny was already steeped in a sense of the dramatic, if, stimulated493 by the novel setting, she had begun to feel that in such cross-currents and mutual100 deceptions494 must lie the substance of that unknown article of commerce these people lived by—a play—how strongly was this intuition confirmed and this sense enhanced when Mr. Flippance, whispering in apparent facetiousness495, “I’m in my slippers—she’ll rag me,” kicked them off under a chair, slid back mahogany panels below the bed, disclosing a lower berth, and tumbled in, with his finger roguishly on his lips, closing the panels from within!
“The Mistletoe Bough!” he sibilated. So there it was! They were actually imitating a play before her very eyes. Duke and the Duchess, grinning, drew the panels tighter. The theatre was so in their blood, Jinny felt, that these things came as natural to them as carrying to her.
It was thus that Jinny saw her first farce496—unless the high tragedy of Punch and Judy be degraded by that name.
VIII
Polly, it soon transpired, was come to the midday dinner with her friend, and the dinner itself was coming in presently from “The Learned Pig.” The real purpose of the invitation was, it transpired equally, that Polly might explain to the Duchess the reading of a part alleged497 to be confused in the manuscript acquired with the Flippance Fit-Up: she was obviously fishing for tips. While these things were transpiring498, poor Flippance in his fur was perspiring499. Gradually Jinny saw a rift264 appearing in the bed-panels and widening to a cautious chasm500 of a few inches. It made her feel choky herself, especially as the caravan’s little window was closed. She signed apprehensively501 to Mr. Duke, who, however, was already revolving502 feverishly503 how to clear the stage for himself and his fellow-negotiator. And presently he broke into the feminine dialogue with, “I’m sure, dearest, Polly wouldn’t mind acting504 that bit for you. But there ain’t room for Polly’s genius here—she’d be breaking up the happy home! Hadn’t you better go into the inn-parlour, Bianca? There’ll be nobody there yet.”
The Duchess might have lacked talent, but she had not played in farces505 without learning how to behave in them: so without even needing a wink506 from her spouse80, she made a kindly exit behind Polly, not, however, without turning back a grinning doll’s head at Mr. Flippance’s beaded countenance emerging gaspingly from his berth. But Jinny, who had already witnessed comedy and farce, was now more conscious of the tragedy of the situation than of its humours, as she saw the Duchess tripping down the ladder, with silken stockings revealed by the raised skirt. It seemed to Jinny that the poor lady was tripping thus blithely507 to her dark doom, behind the scenes of the puppet show; that her blue eyes and golden hair had flaunted508 their last upon the stage. And the irony509 of her grinning exit was accented by the manuscript in her hand: she was going off to study a part she would nevermore play. It all gave Jinny a sense of the Duchess being herself a puppet, with an ironic510 fate pulling the strings, and she was frightened by a thought hitherto beyond the reach of her soul; by a dim feeling that perhaps she too—and everybody else—was similarly mocked. Who was perpetually jerking her towards that young man, and then jerking her back? What force was always putting into her mouth words of fleer and flout511, and pulling away the hand she yearned512 to lay in his?
“Whew!” exclaimed Mr. Anthony Flippance, as Jinny shut the door safely on the Duchess—for that lady never shut doors, partly because the process interfered513 with the sweep of one’s exit, partly because what concerned a scene from which she was absent never entered her golden head.
“Whew!” repeated Mr. Flippance, scrambling514 out. “I know now what Lady Agnes felt like. ‘Help, Lovel!—Father, help!—I faint—I die—Oh! Oh!’ But I’m disappointed in Polly,” he added, diving under a chair. “Fancy being all her life on the stage, and not espying515 these slippers!” He dug his feet into them.
“There’s no time for joking,” said Duke anxiously, as he tugged516 open the drawer of a desk in his “parlour.” “I suppose Jinny is in the know?”
“Jinny’s come as arbitrator!”
“What!” Duke wheeled round, his hair still more on end.
“Get on with your mystery-desk. It stands to reason a runaway517 financial imagination like yours needs a brake.”
“Ain’t you brake enough?” Mr. Duke’s tone was bitter.
“And you want me to be broke!” retorted Tony. “I give you my beautiful marionettes, life-sized and life-painted, all carved by the best maker——”
“Oh, I know all about that!” interrupted Duke impatiently.
“Well, you’re not going to deny your own skill, I hope?”
Duke glared impotently with his little pig-eyes.
“And with the costliest518 costumes,” Tony went on blandly. “And all these puppets moreover with the latest mechanical contrivances, regardless of expense——”
“And don’t I give you the finest goodwill519 in East Anglia,” burst in Mr. Duke, “the Flippance Fit-Up with all its plays, prestige, and unique takings?”
“One thing at a time, old cock. Packed into a box that itself opens out and forms part of the stage, combining portability of props520 with——”
“Do dry up!” cried the maddened Duke. “If you’re not quick, Bianca will be back.”
“What’s that to me? To cut it short, I give you the finest marionette show in the world, with scenery, sky-borders, and plays complete, and an old-established reputation, a show that has played before the crowned heads of Europe, America, and Australia, and, like the workhouse boy in Mr. Dickens’s book, you ask for more. What say you, Jinny? Thinkest thou the Duke should have more?”
“We all want more,” said Jinny. “Air! Mayn’t I open the window?”
“Oh, excuse me.” Mr. Duke, evidently trained by his big doll, rushed to do it. “But haven’t I lost enough without losing my twenty-five pounds too?”
He turned back to his desk, and extricating521 from its remoter recesses522 another large narrow fat account book—the twin of that he had been poring over—held it up theatrically523. “Here’s my marionette accounts for sixteen years—look through ’em and see if you can find any single week—ay, even the week of King William’s funeral—as low as the best of the weeks since I touched your wretched show.”
“My wretched show!” Mr. Flippance lost his blandness524. “Why, if that’s the case, it’s you that have depreciated it. You ought to pay me compensation.”
But Duke had dramatically dumped the book down side by side with its twin. “Look on this picture and on that!” he said. “Duke’s Marionettes, week ending March 10th, 1849, Colchester. Total, £23 18s. 10d. Flippance Fit-Up, Colchester Corn Exchange, week ending March 8th, 1851. Monday. Eleven shillings. There’s an opening! Tuesday——”
“Oh, come to the d——d total!” said Tony impatiently.
“There ain’t any total,” said Duke crushingly. “Tuesday, sixteen shillings and sixpence.”
“Always rising, you see!” said Tony.
“Wednesday,” Duke went on implacably, “nine shillings and fourpence——”
“Why, how do you get fourpence?” interrupted Tony severely. “You haven’t been letting down the prices, I hope.”
“That’s noted525 at the side. See!” said the careful Duke. “A swindler passed off a groat as a tanner. Thursday, Eight and sixpence—imagine the Colchester Corn Exchange with eight and sixpence! Friday. Nine shillings——”
“Rising again, you see,” chirruped Tony.
“Saturday. One pound thirteen and six.”
“There you are! That pulls you up.”
“Saturday evening,” concluded Duke. “Two pounds eight.”
“And then he grumbles!” Mr. Flippance raised his great ringed hands towards Jinny.
“Total, six pounds five and tenpence!”
“And isn’t that enough to live on?” cried Tony. “Only two in family and a little bird or so! And if your box-office man had been smart enough to tell a groat from a tester, you’d have had six guineas!”
“He wasn’t such a fool,” said Duke dryly, “for on another night it’s noted that a half-sovereign was passed off on him for sixpence.”
“And then you outrage526 Providence by complaining of the takings,” said Tony.
“Rent of Corn Exchange,” continued Duke doggedly527, “three guineas. Salaries (to company, including check-taker), four pounds eight. Lighting466, a pound. Advertising528 (including bill-poster), three pounds ten——”
“But, my dear chap, what extravagance! No wonder——”
“Travelling expenses (company and scenery, excluding caravan), eighteen and ninepence. Drinks to Pressmen—one and sixpence——”
“Oh, not enough! No wonder——!”
“Net deficit529, seven pounds sixteen and threepence, plus the salary of Bianca and me!”
“What! Why, you said salary of company, four pounds eight!”
“You don’t suppose I included ourselves with the check-taker!”
“You didn’t? Oh, my dear fellow,” said Tony sympathetically, “no wonder you’re down in the mouth. A wise manager always pays his salary before any other expense; then he’s always sure of a stand-by!”
“It isn’t the money that’s the worst,” Duke explained. “It’s the dreadful loneliness.”
“Why didn’t you stuff the house with paper and put up ‘Free List Absolutely Suspended’?”
“Easier said than done in a place where you don’t know a soul. Why, Bianca had a Benefit Night, and how many do you think were in the stalls? Two women and a boy.”
“I’ve known only the theatre cat——” began Tony cheerfully.
“And the boy went to sleep!”
“Wasn’t it his bedtime? But I will say it’s not entirely530 the fault of your acting. I’ve noticed ever since that Crystal Palace loomed531 on the horizon, it’s unsettled the public within at least fifty miles from Hyde Park. I was talking to a showman who told me that in March and April this year business fell off everywhere—there was no interest in giants, dwarfs532, fat men, pig-faced ladies, and even jugglers, animal magnetizers, lion-tamers, performing elephants, ventriloquists, prestidigitators, and professors of necromancy533. Didn’t you hear of the fate of poor Wishbone, the conjurer, at Chelmsford Fair? Not even a kid dropped into his booth, so he went out to perform outside, but before he could ‘hey, presto534!’ the purse back to the owner, the peeler copped him. The magistrate535 wouldn’t listen to his patter, and he can’t tap himself out of quod either, poor chap. Besides, we all remember the awful weather in March, yes and up to the very opening of the Crystal Palace—rain, rain, rain.”
“Well, take the March of 1849,” said Duke, turning back his oblong pages, “and don’t forget people’ll sit in Assembly Rooms or a Corn Exchange when they won’t risk a draughty tent. Now look at the weather that year—when I pulled my own strings. Tuesday, W.S.—that is, wet, snow. Wednesday, R.N. (rough night). Thursday, S.H.T. (storm, hail, and thunder). Saturday, W.T. (wind, tilt442 OFF!). Come now, you could hardly have a worse week, could you? Everything except B.F.1 or B.F.2 (black fog or big funeral). Yet see, my takings for that week were——”
Tony flipped536 away the book with his jewelled hand. “What you’ve got to compare with your Colchester week,” he said, “is not your marionette week in March ’49, but my Fit-Up week for that date.”
“I don’t see that.”
“It stands to reason.”
They debated the point warmly: finally Tony referred it to Jinny: that was what she was there for, he recalled.
“I certainly think,” arbitrated the little Carrier, “that we ought to see what Mr. Flippance’s live theatre could do in the same weather.”
“Oh, very well,” acquiesced537 Duke sulkily. “And what did you do that week?”
“Heavens, man, how on earth can I remember?”
“But haven’t you got it written down?”
“What do you take me for?” asked Tony. “A tradesman? A bookkeeper? Unless Polly——”
“You told me the other Christmas that you averaged twenty-five,” said Duke bitterly, “and I paid you one week’s takings by way of douceur.”
“Well, then you do know my weekly takings,” said Tony loftily.
“I can’t stay here for ever,” put in Jinny. “I’ve got my work.”
“I’m paying you, ain’t I?” Tony rebuked538 her.
“But not giving me work.” She assumed a judicial539 air. “Do you, Mr. Flippance, maintain that your theatre is a more valuable concern than Mr. Duke’s marionettes?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then,” said the young Solomon in petticoats, “surely if you get it back, you ought to pay him the difference in value.”
“Bravo! Bravo!” Mr. Duke’s little pig-eyes gleamed. “A sensible girl!”
“Oh, Jinny!” groaned Mr. Flippance: “To desert your old pal27!”
“And do you, Mr. Duke,” went on Jinny imperturbably540, “maintain that your marionettes are a better property than the Flippance Fit-Up?”
“Certainly not,” said Mr. Duke, not to be caught.
“The marionettes are a worse property then?” she asked.
Duke banged his book. “Much worse.”
“Then why do you want it back?”
Tony uttered a shriek404 of delight. “A Daniel come to judgment! Oh, Jinny, I could hug you!”
A sweep of her horn kept him at arm’s length. “You say, Mr. Duke, that the Fit-Up property is the better, and yet you want to give it up?”
Mr. Duke leaned his elbows on the desk, and dropped his head in his hands. “You confuse me—I must have time to think.”
“Hamlet!” observed Tony pleasantly. “But I don’t think the ghost will walk.” His hand moved towards the gin decanter, but again that baffling horn intervened.
“Look here!” said Duke, rummaging541 in his drawer. “I’ve got the transfer written out, ready for signature, two copies—the exact words of our last agreement, only turned the other way, of course. I’m a plain man—is it to be or not to be?”
“That is the question,” said Tony sepulchrally542. “But you see it isn’t so plain as you. You’ve depreciated my theatre and it’s not worth the extra pony. Why can’t you make a reasonable compromise and just swap543 back?”
“What! And be a pony out of pocket?”
“You’ll be an elephant out of pocket if you don’t,” Jinny reminded him. “Seven pounds sixteen and threepence a week mount up.”
“Ah, that was a particularly bad week.”
“Then there were good weeks?” flashed Tony.
“I tell you the best weren’t as good as the marionettes’ worst.”
“Come, come, old cock, draw it mild!”
“If you don’t believe me,” said Duke, firing up, “look for yourself! And what’s more, if you find I’m wrong, keep the pony and be hanged to you!”
“Easy! Easy! But I was never a man to refuse a sporting offer—tip us the tomes!”
Duke handed him the twin account books, but soon, tiring of the rows of figures, Mr. Flippance begged Jinny to pursue the investigation544 while he studied the document of transfer.
It was not without a thrill that, setting the volumes on a hanging flap that Duke had changed for her into a table, she went back over the pages of faded ink that told of toils545 and tribulations546 in the years before she had come into being: as a carrier she was peculiarly sensitive to these records of wrecked547 tents and ruined takings. Through the peace of the summer morning in that poky caravan, the winds from that pre-natal period seemed to be rushing, its snows falling, its hails and thunders crashing, and with these imagined tempests came up the thought of Will. What was he doing now, with his beautiful black horses? Was he looking for Mr. Flippance at “The Black Sheep”? But the thought of him was too agitating548; she crushed it down and got absorbed in her task and the tales the figures told: the blanks carefully explained by Good Friday or royal mourning or the journey to some distant pitch; the varying cost of these pitches in publicans’ meadows; the varying expense of cartage; the sudden jumps in the takings, due—as annotated—to high days and holidays, or to royal weddings, or to favourite pieces. She wondered why Mr. Duke ever played any others. “What is D.F.N.?” she asked suddenly.
“Dismissed. Fine night,” said Mr. Duke in melancholy accents. It was the supreme549 tragedy. “Although a fine night,” he explained, rubbing it in to himself, “not enough to be worth playing to.”
“You didn’t always do good business, you see,” gurgled Tony from the gin-glass he had imperceptibly acquired.
“Accidents will happen,” Duke retorted.
“And what is D.S.?” put in Jinny. “Dismissed. Snow?”
“D.S. is diddling show,” explained Duke gloomily. “I struck one only last week at the very public-house I hired my pitch from.”
“That wasn’t playing fair,” said Tony.
“No, indeed. They stuck a placard in the window, ‘Great Water Otter550. Free.’ And when you’d had your drink they took you to the stables to see it in its tub. There were crowds every night. It was put in the paper.”
Tony grinned. “?‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’?”
“But why?” asked Jinny. “I’d rather see a water-otter than a dancing doll.”
“You’re not even a country mouse,” said Tony. “When the fools push and squeeze to get near the tub, they warn ’em, ‘Don’t go too near!’ And all the while it’s only a big iron kettle—a water-’otter. See!”
Jinny laughed.
“Yes, that’s what they all do,” said Duke dismally. “Laugh and help to gull551 the others. And between them the legitimate goes to the dogs.”
“Or the otters552.” Jinny bent in lighter553 spirits over the twin volumes. “I’m afraid you’ve lost, Mr. Flippance,” she announced at last. “I can’t see any drama week of Mr. Duke’s that goes as high as the worst of his marionette weeks.”
“Right you are!” said Tony, cheerful under his liquid. “Sport is sport and the pony is yours. Here goes!” And picking up a pen from the desk, he signed one of the documents with a long thick line sweeping554 backward from his final “e.” Duke signed the other copy more soberly, and Jinny witnessed both signatures with careful calligraphy555. “It only remains, old cock,” said Tony, “to deliver the twenty-five pounds.”
“Hear, hear,” agreed Duke.
“You don’t suppose I carry it about with me?”
Duke’s face fell. “But without money passing, it ain’t legal.”
“But I jumped out of bed in a hurry—Jinny’ll bear me out. I mean,” he added hurriedly, as a dramatic interest flickered556 across Duke’s face, “look at my slippers!”
“Oh, I’ve seen your stinking557 old slippers!” Duke was getting unpleasant. “What I want to see is my money.”
“Sorry, old boy—no use letting your dander rise—it’s a case of H.G.I.—haven’t got it, and M.O.I.U.—must owe it you! Still, I dare say we can rake up something on account, to make a legal consideration. Doubtless Jinny has got half a crown. Give me one, Jinny, till I get home.”
Jinny, who had always hitherto dealt with Polly, and been scrupulously558 paid, had no hesitation in handing him the coin. She did not know it was the cost of her arbitration559. Duke accepted it ungraciously as earnest money.
“And if I may advise you how to run your own show, now you’ve got it back,” said Tony handsomely, “don’t go so much by the fairs. There’s not only the waste of time and travel in between one and t’other, it’s lowering a fine art to the level of a merry-go-round or the talking lobst——”
“I can’t wait for ever,” interposed Jinny. “Are you coming?” She opened the door.
“Your time’s paid,” said Mr. Flippance severely. “However, Duke takes my meaning. Here’s luck to him!” And with a last gulp560 at Duke’s gin, he followed her to the door. “Send me my scenery and props and the same cart can take back yours and the box of figures.”
“No, no,” said Duke, “that’ll need several journeys or carts. We divide the freightage.”
“What! When I throw in twenty-five pounds! O Duke, Duke, if you ain’t careful there’ll be a show of the meanest man on earth.” And shaking his fat jewelled forefinger561 waggishly562 at the caravan proprietor, he followed the Carrier. “Now for a last kick at the company,” he observed to her, as the door closed upon the dismal352 Duke.
IX
But at that moment the ground resounded563 with gallant564 hoofs565, and a handsome red-haired cavalier riding a barebacked black horse and leading another steed of Satan, and followed by a bounding little white dog, brought life and spirit into the scene. The rabbits poked566 their noses greedily through their wires, and the pig grunted567 in perturbation. Jinny, shrinking back behind Mr. Flippance, remained paralysed on the steps of the caravan, while Tony, unconscious that he was needed as a screen, hurried forward with a joyous greeting and a query568 which served the purpose as effectually, for Jinny was left unnoted on her pedestal.
“You looking for me?” asked Tony.
“I was,” answered the horseman. “But now I’m looking for the stables. ‘The Black Sheep’s’ full up, and I thought I’d put up my spare horse at ‘The Learned Pig’ till I could find you. However, here you are.”
“But you crossed me, man, just outside the market!”
“Did I? Is Jinny here? I see her cart outside.”
“Never mind Jinny—you’re just in the nick of time. I want to talk business to you.”
“And so do I to you. If I crossed you, ’twas because I was galloping569 to you with the horse you ordered through Jinny.”
“And I was galloping to her to cancel it!”
“What!” cried Will. But the joyous rush and gambollings of Nip now directed his attention to Nip’s statuesque mistress.
“I’m afraid you’ve let yourself in for those horses,” she said, descending570. She did not speak maliciously—the sting of her defeat was over, now that his victory had recoiled571 on the victor, and she was really a little sorry for him. But all other feelings were overwhelmed for the moment by this new sense of dash and grace, in which he and the beautiful pawing steeds were mixed up centaur-like, his figure looking so much taller on horseback that it almost corresponded to Miss Gentry’s ideal. Unfortunately Will himself had no sense of the horses except as a costly572 and burdensome mistake: the iron issuing from Jinny’s soul was entering into his.
“But surely you want one of ’em,” he said, addressing Mr. Flippance. He had cherished a dim hope that the Showman might launch out into binary573 grandeur574, but at the worst he was prepared to keep one horse—it would be useful for riding into Chipstone—pending its sale. But to have two horses on his hands, eating their heads off, after consuming practically the whole of his capital—this was too much. Nor could he believe that Jinny was not gloating over the Nemesis575 that had overtaken his attempt to crush her will.
“I don’t see what I should do with a horse,” said Tony, “seeing that I’m setting up the Flippance Palace Theatre as a local landmark576. Of course I might have a play written round him,” he mused, “or even round ’em both. They would certainly ‘draw’ all Chipstone, especially with a carriage behind ’em. Odd, isn’t it? There’ll be scores of carriages waiting outside my theatre, yet to see one on the stage gives everybody a thrill. Lord, how the public does love to see natural things in unnatural400 places! As my old pa used to say—my real pa, I mean—put an idiot on the stage and he gives pleasure, put him in the stalls and he writes dramatic criticism! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Then you do want ’em?” said Will eagerly.
“If you’re ready to bring in the noble animals as part of the capital, I’ll look around for a dramatist to work ’em in.”
“You’d best look around for a capitalist,” retorted Will in angry disappointment. “I’ve told you before, I’m going into farming.”
“Then you’ll want the horses yourself.”
“They’re no good for farming,” Jinny corrected.
“Ain’t they?” said Tony, surveying them with a fresh eye. “Then why did he buy them?”
Will got angrier. “That’s my business. Do you want them or not?”
“I can always do with anything. A play’s a pie you can shove anything into. You’d look bully577 yourself, as you Americans say, riding just as you are: just a cowboy costume, that’s all you need. Will you do it?”
“Will I do what?”
“Play lead and supply your own horses.”
“Don’t be a fool—or try to make me one. I’m a plain farmer.”
Tony grinned. “Jinny don’t seem to think ’em suitable for plain farming. I reckon you’d better set up as undertaker. They’ll go lovely with a hearse. All you need is a corpse578.”
“And I shan’t be long finding one!” hissed Will.
Tony clapped his hands. “That’s the style. Lord, man, what a wasted actor!”
Jinny could not suppress a smile. It brought Will’s temper to breaking-point. “These horses at least won’t be wasted,” he said to her at a white heat. “For I’ll take our friend’s advice.”
“Harness ’em to a hearse?” murmured Jinny.
“No, to a coach. I’ll put an end, miss, to your mannish ways.”
“Indeed!” Jinny bridled579 up, without, however, quite following the threat.
“You’ve done for yourself,” he explained. “You’ve forced me into competition. You’ve got me the horses—there’s no end of out-of-work coaches on the market to be got for an old song. I’ll carry passengers and luggage faster and cheaper than you, and heavier stuff too, and I’ll wipe you out.”
Jinny grew white, but at the venom580 of his words, not their business significance. Her instinct retorted with a smile. “And I got you the horn, too, don’t forget that.”
“I don’t—I was thinking of that. It’s all your doing—and serve you jolly well right.” He turned sneeringly581 to Mr. Flippance. “So I won’t be a wasted musician either.”
“Oho!” said Jinny. “And shall we see you on the box-seat all a-crowing and a-blowing?”
“I know you still think I can’t blow—but you shall see.”
“Seeing isn’t believing,” said Jinny.
“Had you there, old cock,” said Tony.
“She knows what I mean, right enough. I’ll start a coach-service ’twixt Little Bradmarsh and Chipstone, ay and farther too, passengers inside, luggage on the roof. I’ll wake up this sleepy old spot.” And his vigour seemed to communicate itself to his horses: they caracoled and stamped.
“Better let sleeping spots lie,” said Jinny. “I thought you hated Yankee going-ahead.”
“It’ll save you going ahead, anyhow,” said Will. “Why didn’t you let things sleep?”
“Me! How could I help helping582 Gran’fer?”
“Women have always got an excuse. ‘And the man gave unto me and I did eat.’?”
“Lord! He’s been reading the Bible!” laughed Tony.
Will flushed. All those hours in quest of orthography583 passed through his mind. And what had all his painstaking584 letters led to? Quarrels, recriminations, miseries585. Well, let him have done with it all. Ignore her, crush her, that was the best way. Once he had driven her out of the business, that tongue of hers would wag more meekly586. Then, perhaps——!
A rousing blast on Jinny’s horn cut defiantly587 into his thoughts. It was at once a challenge and a mockery. Will turned his horses’ heads sharply and trotted out, Nip at their heels. But at the edge of the enclosure Nip looked back wistfully to beg his mistress to join the party. She, however, lowering her horn, cried, “Come here, you naughty dog. Come here at once.”
Nip stood in pathetic hesitation.
“It’s that animal my play shall be written round,” said Tony decisively. “How much do you want for him?”
“You know I wouldn’t, part with him for love or money,” said Jinny.
“Well, I haven’t got any money,” said Tony slowly. “But if you’d like the other thing——”
“Don’t be silly!” Jinny moved towards her cart.
“I mean it—a wife like you would be the making of a man.”
“Now you’ll have to walk home!” said Jinny, springing into her seat. It was too ironic a climax588 to the morning.
“Not in my slippers!” gasped Tony.
“You should have put on your boots!” said Jinny sternly.
“But listen!” He clung to the cart as if he would stop it. “It’s a heaven-sent opportunity.”
“It must be sent back,” said Jinny gravely.
“I mean for me,” he explained desperately589. “You know how Polly objects to my marrying again. But I’ve got to break the deal with Duke to her, so I could work in the two at once. It couldn’t be worse.”
“I shall never marry,” said Jinny. “Gee up!”
“But whoa, whoa, you don’t carry only your husbands,” cried Tony. “Stop!”
He pursued Methusalem for some yards, but even Methusalem was too quick for him. And then, as he stood panting and perspiring and overcome by a dark upwelling of disbelief in life, he perceived the Duchess with her manuscript and his daughter returning from the histrionic consultation590 at “The Learned Pig.”
“Thank the Lord, Polly’s feeding out,” he murmured, as he slunk into a doorway591. Then his face brightened up. “After all,” he thought, “I’ve only got to break to her about the theatre.”
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2 pastor | |
n.牧师,牧人 | |
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3 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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4 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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5 rim | |
n.(圆物的)边,轮缘;边界 | |
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6 repudiated | |
v.(正式地)否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 );拒绝接受;拒绝与…往来;拒不履行(法律义务) | |
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7 repudiate | |
v.拒绝,拒付,拒绝履行 | |
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8 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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9 calf | |
n.小牛,犊,幼仔,小牛皮 | |
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10 fig | |
n.无花果(树) | |
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11 flip | |
vt.快速翻动;轻抛;轻拍;n.轻抛;adj.轻浮的 | |
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12 ken | |
n.视野,知识领域 | |
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13 bruised | |
[医]青肿的,瘀紫的 | |
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14 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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15 pro | |
n.赞成,赞成的意见,赞成者 | |
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16 par | |
n.标准,票面价值,平均数量;adj.票面的,平常的,标准的 | |
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17 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
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18 truancy | |
n.逃学,旷课 | |
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19 solicitude | |
n.焦虑 | |
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20 scholastic | |
adj.学校的,学院的,学术上的 | |
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21 amiably | |
adv.和蔼可亲地,亲切地 | |
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22 espied | |
v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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24 spiny | |
adj.多刺的,刺状的;n.多刺的东西 | |
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25 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
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26 tract | |
n.传单,小册子,大片(土地或森林) | |
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27 pal | |
n.朋友,伙伴,同志;vi.结为友 | |
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28 deftly | |
adv.灵巧地,熟练地,敏捷地 | |
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29 prostrate | |
v.拜倒,平卧,衰竭;adj.拜倒的,平卧的,衰竭的 | |
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30 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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31 grandiose | |
adj.宏伟的,宏大的,堂皇的,铺张的 | |
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32 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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33 constellations | |
n.星座( constellation的名词复数 );一群杰出人物;一系列(相关的想法、事物);一群(相关的人) | |
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34 constellation | |
n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
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35 gentry | |
n.绅士阶级,上层阶级 | |
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36 variegated | |
adj.斑驳的,杂色的 | |
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37 tantalized | |
v.逗弄,引诱,折磨( tantalize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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39 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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40 domain | |
n.(活动等)领域,范围;领地,势力范围 | |
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41 contingency | |
n.意外事件,可能性 | |
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42 tinge | |
vt.(较淡)着色于,染色;使带有…气息;n.淡淡色彩,些微的气息 | |
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43 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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44 freckles | |
n.雀斑,斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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45 prescription | |
n.处方,开药;指示,规定 | |
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46 syllables | |
n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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47 pomposity | |
n.浮华;虚夸;炫耀;自负 | |
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48 soothing | |
adj.慰藉的;使人宽心的;镇静的 | |
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49 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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50 bleached | |
漂白的,晒白的,颜色变浅的 | |
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51 bonnet | |
n.无边女帽;童帽 | |
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52 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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53 swoops | |
猛扑,突然下降( swoop的名词复数 ) | |
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54 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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55 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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56 cluttered | |
v.杂物,零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 );乱糟糟地堆满,把…弄得很乱;(以…) 塞满… | |
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57 archaic | |
adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的,已不通用的 | |
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58 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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59 transpired | |
(事实,秘密等)被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 ); 泄露; 显露; 发生 | |
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60 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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61 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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62 ginger | |
n.姜,精力,淡赤黄色;adj.淡赤黄色的;vt.使活泼,使有生气 | |
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63 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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64 Saturn | |
n.农神,土星 | |
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65 scorpion | |
n.蝎子,心黑的人,蝎子鞭 | |
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66 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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67 dominion | |
n.统治,管辖,支配权;领土,版图 | |
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68 dressing | |
n.(食物)调料;包扎伤口的用品,敷料 | |
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69 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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70 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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71 assented | |
同意,赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72 defendant | |
n.被告;adj.处于被告地位的 | |
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73 gnawing | |
a.痛苦的,折磨人的 | |
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74 landlady | |
n.女房东,女地主 | |
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75 liars | |
说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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76 mid | |
adj.中央的,中间的 | |
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77 middle-aged | |
adj.中年的 | |
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78 ram | |
(random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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79 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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80 spouse | |
n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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81 spouses | |
n.配偶,夫或妻( spouse的名词复数 ) | |
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82 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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83 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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84 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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85 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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86 electrified | |
v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 );使兴奋 | |
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87 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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88 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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89 contrite | |
adj.悔悟了的,后悔的,痛悔的 | |
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90 forsake | |
vt.遗弃,抛弃;舍弃,放弃 | |
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91 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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92 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
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93 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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94 scour | |
v.搜索;擦,洗,腹泻,冲刷 | |
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95 divers | |
adj.不同的;种种的 | |
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96 necessitated | |
使…成为必要,需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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98 overdo | |
vt.把...做得过头,演得过火 | |
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99 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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100 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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101 turnips | |
芜青( turnip的名词复数 ); 芜菁块根; 芜菁甘蓝块根; 怀表 | |
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102 turnip | |
n.萝卜,芜菁 | |
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103 lout | |
n.粗鄙的人;举止粗鲁的人 | |
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104 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
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105 hurdles | |
n.障碍( hurdle的名词复数 );跳栏;(供人或马跳跃的)栏架;跨栏赛 | |
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106 crate | |
vt.(up)把…装入箱中;n.板条箱,装货箱 | |
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107 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
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108 scurvy | |
adj.下流的,卑鄙的,无礼的;n.坏血病 | |
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109 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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110 tenor | |
n.男高音(歌手),次中音(乐器),要旨,大意 | |
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111 shearer | |
n.剪羊毛的人;剪切机 | |
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112 recalcitrant | |
adj.倔强的 | |
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113 advent | |
n.(重要事件等的)到来,来临 | |
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114 grunting | |
咕哝的,呼噜的 | |
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115 wheezing | |
v.喘息,发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 );哮鸣 | |
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116 brawny | |
adj.强壮的 | |
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117 shears | |
n.大剪刀 | |
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118 boredom | |
n.厌烦,厌倦,乏味,无聊 | |
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119 enlisted | |
adj.应募入伍的v.(使)入伍, (使)参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 );获得(帮助或支持) | |
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120 meek | |
adj.温顺的,逆来顺受的 | |
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121 sheared | |
v.剪羊毛( shear的过去式和过去分词 );切断;剪切 | |
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122 meticulous | |
adj.极其仔细的,一丝不苟的 | |
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123 prudent | |
adj.谨慎的,有远见的,精打细算的 | |
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124 ravens | |
n.低质煤;渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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125 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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126 chaff | |
v.取笑,嘲笑;n.谷壳 | |
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127 stiffened | |
加强的 | |
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128 spoke | |
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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129 speck | |
n.微粒,小污点,小斑点 | |
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130 ointment | |
n.药膏,油膏,软膏 | |
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131 cowered | |
v.畏缩,抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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132 bleating | |
v.(羊,小牛)叫( bleat的现在分词 );哭诉;发出羊叫似的声音;轻声诉说 | |
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133 thumping | |
adj.重大的,巨大的;重击的;尺码大的;极好的adv.极端地;非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词);狠打;怦怦地跳;全力支持 | |
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134 exultation | |
n.狂喜,得意 | |
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135 bracing | |
adj.令人振奋的 | |
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136 ooze | |
n.软泥,渗出物;vi.渗出,泄漏;vt.慢慢渗出,流露 | |
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137 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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138 smeared | |
弄脏; 玷污; 涂抹; 擦上 | |
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139 friskily | |
adv.活泼地,闹着玩地 | |
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140 bough | |
n.大树枝,主枝 | |
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141 ballad | |
n.歌谣,民谣,流行爱情歌曲 | |
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142 percolating | |
n.渗透v.滤( percolate的现在分词 );渗透;(思想等)渗透;渗入 | |
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143 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
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144 genially | |
adv.亲切地,和蔼地;快活地 | |
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145 squint | |
v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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146 trotted | |
小跑,急走( trot的过去分词 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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147 shearing | |
n.剪羊毛,剪取的羊毛v.剪羊毛( shear的现在分词 );切断;剪切 | |
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148 imperturbability | |
n.冷静;沉着 | |
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149 carmine | |
n.深红色,洋红色 | |
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150 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
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151 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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152 pricks | |
刺痛( prick的名词复数 ); 刺孔; 刺痕; 植物的刺 | |
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153 jig | |
n.快步舞(曲);v.上下晃动;用夹具辅助加工;蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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154 boon | |
n.恩赐,恩物,恩惠 | |
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155 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
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156 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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157 growled | |
v.(动物)发狺狺声, (雷)作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 );低声咆哮着说 | |
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158 blandly | |
adv.温和地,殷勤地 | |
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159 snarled | |
v.(指狗)吠,嗥叫, (人)咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 );咆哮着说,厉声地说 | |
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160 pedantry | |
n.迂腐,卖弄学问 | |
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161 brazen | |
adj.厚脸皮的,无耻的,坚硬的 | |
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162 brazenness | |
厚颜无耻 | |
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163 ascending | |
adj.上升的,向上的 | |
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164 latch | |
n.门闩,窗闩;弹簧锁 | |
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165 velvety | |
adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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166 jauntily | |
adv.心满意足地;洋洋得意地;高兴地;活泼地 | |
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167 wafts | |
n.空中飘来的气味,一阵气味( waft的名词复数 );摇转风扇v.吹送,飘送,(使)浮动( waft的第三人称单数 ) | |
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168 gleaned | |
v.一点点地收集(资料、事实)( glean的过去式和过去分词 );(收割后)拾穗 | |
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169 chronological | |
adj.按年月顺序排列的,年代学的 | |
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170 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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171 unearthed | |
出土的(考古) | |
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172 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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173 drench | |
v.使淋透,使湿透 | |
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174 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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175 warts | |
n.疣( wart的名词复数 );肉赘;树瘤;缺点 | |
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176 rheumatism | |
n.风湿病 | |
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177 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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178 hovering | |
鸟( hover的现在分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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179 gnats | |
n.叮人小虫( gnat的名词复数 ) | |
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180 marvelled | |
v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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181 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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182 remorsefully | |
adv.极为懊悔地 | |
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183 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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184 caressed | |
爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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185 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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186 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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187 dab | |
v.轻触,轻拍,轻涂;n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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188 census | |
n.(官方的)人口调查,人口普查 | |
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189 gliding | |
v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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190 grievances | |
n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 );苦衷;不满;牢骚 | |
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191 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
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192 grumbles | |
抱怨( grumble的第三人称单数 ); 发牢骚; 咕哝; 发哼声 | |
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193 continental | |
adj.大陆的,大陆性的,欧洲大陆的 | |
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194 subsisted | |
v.(靠很少的钱或食物)维持生活,生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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195 bluff | |
v.虚张声势,用假象骗人;n.虚张声势,欺骗 | |
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196 bowler | |
n.打保龄球的人,(板球的)投(球)手 | |
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197 potent | |
adj.强有力的,有权势的;有效力的 | |
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198 evoke | |
vt.唤起,引起,使人想起 | |
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199 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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200 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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201 chapels | |
n.小教堂, (医院、监狱等的)附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 );(在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的)礼拜仪式 | |
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202 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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203 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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204 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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205 charred | |
v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式);烧焦 | |
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206 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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207 munching | |
v.用力咀嚼(某物),大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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208 filched | |
v.偷(尤指小的或不贵重的物品)( filch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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209 mites | |
n.(尤指令人怜悯的)小孩( mite的名词复数 );一点点;一文钱;螨 | |
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210 brat | |
n.孩子;顽童 | |
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211 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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212 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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213 prettily | |
adv.优美地;可爱地 | |
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214 mused | |
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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215 complacent | |
adj.自满的;自鸣得意的 | |
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216 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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217 farmhouse | |
n.农场住宅(尤指主要住房) | |
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218 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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219 heresy | |
n.异端邪说;异教 | |
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220 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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221 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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222 musingly | |
adv.沉思地,冥想地 | |
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223 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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224 gee | |
n.马;int.向右!前进!,惊讶时所发声音;v.向右转 | |
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225 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
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226 thumped | |
v.重击, (指心脏)急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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227 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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228 potentate | |
n.统治者;君主 | |
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229 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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230 medley | |
n.混合 | |
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231 squires | |
n.地主,乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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232 glossy | |
adj.平滑的;有光泽的 | |
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233 cylinders | |
n.圆筒( cylinder的名词复数 );圆柱;汽缸;(尤指用作容器的)圆筒状物 | |
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234 galling | |
adj.难堪的,使烦恼的,使焦躁的 | |
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235 bucolic | |
adj.乡村的;牧羊的 | |
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236 greasy | |
adj. 多脂的,油脂的 | |
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237 filthy | |
adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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238 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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239 grotesque | |
adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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240 swirling | |
v.旋转,打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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241 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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242 brazenly | |
adv.厚颜无耻地;厚脸皮地肆无忌惮地 | |
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243 bumptious | |
adj.傲慢的 | |
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244 grunts | |
(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说; 石鲈 | |
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245 puffing | |
v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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246 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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247 privately | |
adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
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248 appraising | |
v.估价( appraise的现在分词 );估计;估量;评价 | |
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249 abhorred | |
v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 );(厌恶地)回避;拒绝;淘汰 | |
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250 auction | |
n.拍卖;拍卖会;vt.拍卖 | |
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251 shuffling | |
adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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252 calves | |
n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子,腓;腿肚子( calf的名词复数 );牛犊;腓;小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 );(冰川)崩解;生(小牛等),产(犊);使(冰川)崩解 | |
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253 scowled | |
怒视,生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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254 widower | |
n.鳏夫 | |
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255 superfluously | |
过分地; 过剩地 | |
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256 wilful | |
adj.任性的,故意的 | |
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257 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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258 oozy | |
adj.软泥的 | |
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259 nibbling | |
v.啃,一点一点地咬(吃)( nibble的现在分词 );啃出(洞),一点一点咬出(洞);慢慢减少;小口咬 | |
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260 covetous | |
adj.贪婪的,贪心的 | |
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261 sniffed | |
v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 );抽鼻子(尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气);抱怨,不以为然地说 | |
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262 pegs | |
n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 );挂钉;系帐篷的桩;弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 );使固定在某水平 | |
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263 thrifty | |
adj.节俭的;兴旺的;健壮的 | |
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264 rift | |
n.裂口,隙缝,切口;v.裂开,割开,渗入 | |
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265 maliciously | |
adv.有敌意地 | |
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266 juxtaposition | |
n.毗邻,并置,并列 | |
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267 elastic | |
n.橡皮圈,松紧带;adj.有弹性的;灵活的 | |
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268 strings | |
n.弦 | |
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269 acolytes | |
n.助手( acolyte的名词复数 );随从;新手;(天主教)侍祭 | |
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270 scribbled | |
v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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271 dangling | |
悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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272 hovered | |
鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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273 aprons | |
围裙( apron的名词复数 ); 停机坪,台口(舞台幕前的部份) | |
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274 complacently | |
adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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275 bristles | |
短而硬的毛发,刷子毛( bristle的名词复数 ) | |
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276 hacks | |
黑客 | |
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277 staple | |
n.主要产物,常用品,主要要素,原料,订书钉,钩环;adj.主要的,重要的;vt.分类 | |
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278 staples | |
n.(某国的)主要产品( staple的名词复数 );钉书钉;U 形钉;主要部份v.用钉书钉钉住( staple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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279 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
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280 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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281 banter | |
n.嘲弄,戏谑;v.取笑,逗弄,开玩笑 | |
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282 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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283 perturbed | |
adj.烦燥不安的v.使(某人)烦恼,不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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284 lurking | |
潜在 | |
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285 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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286 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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287 hypocrisy | |
n.伪善,虚伪 | |
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288 burrowed | |
v.挖掘(洞穴),挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 );翻寻 | |
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289 intrusive | |
adj.打搅的;侵扰的 | |
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290 feat | |
n.功绩;武艺,技艺;adj.灵巧的,漂亮的,合适的 | |
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291 chestnut | |
n.栗树,栗子 | |
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292 caravan | |
n.大蓬车;活动房屋 | |
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293 wagons | |
n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 );铁路货车;小手推车 | |
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294 scattering | |
n.[物]散射;散乱,分散;在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的;分散在不同范围的;广泛扩散的;(选票)数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式);散布;驱散 | |
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295 withdrawn | |
vt.收回;使退出;vi.撤退,退出 | |
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296 hind | |
adj.后面的,后部的 | |
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297 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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298 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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299 seething | |
沸腾的,火热的 | |
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300 tangled | |
adj. 纠缠的,紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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301 nonchalance | |
n.冷淡,漠不关心 | |
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302 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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303 tricky | |
adj.狡猾的,奸诈的;(工作等)棘手的,微妙的 | |
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304 Undid | |
v. 解开, 复原 | |
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305 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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306 buffet | |
n.自助餐;饮食柜台;餐台 | |
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307 swilling | |
v.冲洗( swill的现在分词 );猛喝;大口喝;(使)液体流动 | |
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308 mitigated | |
v.减轻,缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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309 wriggle | |
v./n.蠕动,扭动;蜿蜒 | |
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310 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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311 dart | |
v.猛冲,投掷;n.飞镖,猛冲 | |
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312 protracted | |
adj.拖延的;延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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313 reassured | |
adj.使消除疑虑的;使放心的v.再保证,恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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314 blotted | |
涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
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315 blot | |
vt.弄脏(用吸墨纸)吸干;n.污点,污渍 | |
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316 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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317 disconsolate | |
adj.忧郁的,不快的 | |
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318 stigmatize | |
v.污蔑,玷污 | |
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319 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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320 rebuke | |
v.指责,非难,斥责 [反]praise | |
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321 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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322 turmoil | |
n.骚乱,混乱,动乱 | |
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323 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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324 bard | |
n.吟游诗人 | |
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325 renown | |
n.声誉,名望 | |
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326 illiterate | |
adj.文盲的;无知的;n.文盲 | |
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327 tenaciously | |
坚持地 | |
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328 picket | |
n.纠察队;警戒哨;v.设置纠察线;布置警卫 | |
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329 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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330 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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331 revels | |
n.作乐( revel的名词复数 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉 | |
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332 lengthened | |
(时间或空间)延长,伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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333 neatly | |
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地 | |
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334 bulging | |
膨胀; 凸出(部); 打气; 折皱 | |
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335 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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336 demure | |
adj.严肃的;端庄的 | |
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337 surmounted | |
战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 ); 克服(困难); 居于…之上; 在…顶上 | |
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338 prodded | |
v.刺,戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 );刺激;促使;(用手指或尖物)戳 | |
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339 arena | |
n.竞技场,运动场所;竞争场所,舞台 | |
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340 suave | |
adj.温和的;柔和的;文雅的 | |
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341 herds | |
兽群( herd的名词复数 ); 牧群; 人群; 群众 | |
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342 outwards | |
adj.外面的,公开的,向外的;adv.向外;n.外形 | |
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343 ribs | |
n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 );(船或屋顶等的)肋拱;肋骨状的东西;(织物的)凸条花纹 | |
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344 hissed | |
发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 ); 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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345 feigned | |
a.假装的,不真诚的 | |
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346 impeded | |
阻碍,妨碍,阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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347 extricate | |
v.拯救,救出;解脱 | |
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348 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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349 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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350 prodigy | |
n.惊人的事物,奇迹,神童,天才,预兆 | |
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351 dismally | |
adv.阴暗地,沉闷地 | |
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352 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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353 wailed | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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354 pricking | |
刺,刺痕,刺痛感 | |
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355 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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356 piqued | |
v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 );激起(好奇心) | |
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357 chirped | |
鸟叫,虫鸣( chirp的过去式 ) | |
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358 beads | |
n.(空心)小珠子( bead的名词复数 );水珠;珠子项链 | |
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359 perspiration | |
n.汗水;出汗 | |
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360 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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361 tremor | |
n.震动,颤动,战栗,兴奋,地震 | |
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362 vagaries | |
n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 );异想天开;异常行为;难以预测的情况 | |
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363 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
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364 bantered | |
v.开玩笑,说笑,逗乐( banter的过去式和过去分词 );(善意地)取笑,逗弄 | |
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365 symbolic | |
adj.象征性的,符号的,象征主义的 | |
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366 obstinacy | |
n.顽固;(病痛等)难治 | |
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367 volcanically | |
adv.火山似地,猛烈地 | |
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368 prodding | |
v.刺,戳( prod的现在分词 );刺激;促使;(用手指或尖物)戳 | |
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369 poking | |
n. 刺,戳,袋 vt. 拨开,刺,戳 vi. 戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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370 haughtily | |
adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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371 ponies | |
矮种马,小型马( pony的名词复数 ); £25 25 英镑 | |
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372 sable | |
n.黑貂;adj.黑色的 | |
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373 scoff | |
n.嘲笑,笑柄,愚弄;v.嘲笑,嘲弄,愚弄,狼吞虎咽 | |
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374 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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375 inflamed | |
adj.发炎的,红肿的v.(使)变红,发怒,过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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376 impelled | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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377 earnings | |
n.工资收人;利润,利益,所得 | |
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378 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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379 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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380 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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381 interfering | |
adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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382 sneak | |
vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝);偷偷摸摸做;n.潜行;adj.暗中进行 | |
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383 traitor | |
n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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384 wheedled | |
v.骗取(某物),哄骗(某人干某事)( wheedle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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385 romped | |
v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的过去式和过去分词 );(尤指在赛跑或竞选等中)轻易获胜 | |
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386 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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387 engulf | |
vt.吞没,吞食 | |
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388 mediocre | |
adj.平常的,普通的 | |
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389 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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390 pandemonium | |
n.喧嚣,大混乱 | |
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391 liberated | |
a.无拘束的,放纵的 | |
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392 fuming | |
愤怒( fume的现在分词 ); 大怒; 发怒; 冒烟 | |
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393 thwart | |
v.阻挠,妨碍,反对;adj.横(断的) | |
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394 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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395 conducive | |
adj.有益的,有助的 | |
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396 equilibrium | |
n.平衡,均衡,相称,均势,平静 | |
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397 deranged | |
adj.疯狂的 | |
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398 pelt | |
v.投掷,剥皮,抨击,开火 | |
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399 unnaturally | |
adv.违反习俗地;不自然地;勉强地;不近人情地 | |
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400 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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401 muster | |
v.集合,收集,鼓起,激起;n.集合,检阅,集合人员,点名册 | |
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402 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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403 stolid | |
adj.无动于衷的,感情麻木的 | |
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404 shriek | |
v./n.尖叫,叫喊 | |
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405 shrieked | |
v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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406 savages | |
未开化的人,野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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407 shrieks | |
n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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408 darted | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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409 futility | |
n.无用 | |
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410 tempestuous | |
adj.狂暴的 | |
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411 wrestled | |
v.(与某人)搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 );扭成一团;扭打;(与…)摔跤 | |
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412 pranced | |
v.(马)腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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413 scurried | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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414 bellowed | |
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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415 brandished | |
v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 );炫耀 | |
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416 poise | |
vt./vi. 平衡,保持平衡;n.泰然自若,自信 | |
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417 jovial | |
adj.快乐的,好交际的 | |
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418 irrigated | |
[医]冲洗的 | |
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419 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
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420 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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421 buckle | |
n.扣子,带扣;v.把...扣住,由于压力而弯曲 | |
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422 maternal | |
adj.母亲的,母亲般的,母系的,母方的 | |
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423 humiliation | |
n.羞辱 | |
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424 effusively | |
adv.变溢地,热情洋溢地 | |
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425 marionette | |
n.木偶 | |
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426 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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427 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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428 groaned | |
v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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429 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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430 narrated | |
v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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431 mincing | |
adj.矫饰的;v.切碎;切碎 | |
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432 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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433 sardine | |
n.[C]沙丁鱼 | |
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434 candidly | |
adv.坦率地,直率而诚恳地 | |
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435 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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436 tongs | |
n.钳;夹子 | |
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437 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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438 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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439 downwards | |
adj./adv.向下的(地),下行的(地) | |
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440 dexterity | |
n.(手的)灵巧,灵活 | |
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441 mechanism | |
n.机械装置;机构,结构 | |
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442 tilt | |
v.(使)倾侧;(使)倾斜;n.倾侧;倾斜 | |
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443 scenic | |
adj.自然景色的,景色优美的 | |
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444 pony | |
adj.小型的;n.小马 | |
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445 tarnished | |
(通常指金属)(使)失去光泽,(使)变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 ); 玷污,败坏 | |
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446 depreciated | |
v.贬值,跌价,减价( depreciate的过去式和过去分词 );贬低,蔑视,轻视 | |
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447 squeaking | |
v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 );吱吱叫;告密;充当告密者 | |
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448 licensed | |
adj.得到许可的v.许可,颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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449 gasping | |
adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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450 proprietor | |
n.所有人;业主;经营者 | |
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451 glutton | |
n.贪食者,好食者 | |
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452 tunic | |
n.束腰外衣 | |
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453 synonym | |
n.同义词,换喻词 | |
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454 intoxication | |
n.wild excitement;drunkenness;poisoning | |
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455 commiseration | |
n.怜悯,同情 | |
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456 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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457 inflated | |
adj.(价格)飞涨的;(通货)膨胀的;言过其实的;充了气的v.使充气(于轮胎、气球等)( inflate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)膨胀;(使)通货膨胀;物价上涨 | |
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458 besought | |
v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的过去式和过去分词 );(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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459 bonneted | |
发动机前置的 | |
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460 backbone | |
n.脊骨,脊柱,骨干;刚毅,骨气 | |
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461 jigged | |
v.(使)上下急动( jig的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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462 stunning | |
adj.极好的;使人晕倒的 | |
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463 rehearsal | |
n.排练,排演;练习 | |
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464 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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465 knuckles | |
n.(指人)指关节( knuckle的名词复数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝v.(指人)指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝 | |
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466 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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467 poultry | |
n.家禽,禽肉 | |
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468 sniffing | |
n.探查法v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的现在分词 );抽鼻子(尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气);抱怨,不以为然地说 | |
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469 shafts | |
n.轴( shaft的名词复数 );(箭、高尔夫球棒等的)杆;通风井;一阵(疼痛、害怕等) | |
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470 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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471 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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472 aspiration | |
n.志向,志趣抱负;渴望;(语)送气音;吸出 | |
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473 edified | |
v.开导,启发( edify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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474 pretence | |
n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
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475 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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476 epithet | |
n.(用于褒贬人物等的)表述形容词,修饰语 | |
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477 scant | |
adj.不充分的,不足的;v.减缩,限制,忽略 | |
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478 ethics | |
n.伦理学;伦理观,道德标准 | |
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479 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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480 cramped | |
a.狭窄的 | |
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481 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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482 berth | |
n.卧铺,停泊地,锚位;v.使停泊 | |
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483 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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484 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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485 negotiation | |
n.谈判,协商 | |
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486 pending | |
prep.直到,等待…期间;adj.待定的;迫近的 | |
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487 mule | |
n.骡子,杂种,执拗的人 | |
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488 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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489 conspiracy | |
n.阴谋,密谋,共谋 | |
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490 corroboration | |
n.进一步的证实,进一步的证据 | |
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491 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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492 monologist | |
n.独白者,自言自语者 | |
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493 stimulated | |
a.刺激的 | |
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494 deceptions | |
欺骗( deception的名词复数 ); 骗术,诡计 | |
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495 facetiousness | |
n.滑稽 | |
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496 farce | |
n.闹剧,笑剧,滑稽戏;胡闹 | |
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497 alleged | |
a.被指控的,嫌疑的 | |
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498 transpiring | |
(事实,秘密等)被人知道( transpire的现在分词 ); 泄露; 显露; 发生 | |
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499 perspiring | |
v.出汗,流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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500 chasm | |
n.深坑,断层,裂口,大分岐,利害冲突 | |
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501 apprehensively | |
adv.担心地 | |
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502 revolving | |
adj.旋转的,轮转式的;循环的v.(使)旋转( revolve的现在分词 );细想 | |
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503 feverishly | |
adv. 兴奋地 | |
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504 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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505 farces | |
n.笑剧( farce的名词复数 );闹剧;笑剧剧目;作假的可笑场面 | |
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506 wink | |
n.眨眼,使眼色,瞬间;v.眨眼,使眼色,闪烁 | |
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507 blithely | |
adv.欢乐地,快活地,无挂虑地 | |
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508 flaunted | |
v.炫耀,夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 );有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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509 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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510 ironic | |
adj.讽刺的,有讽刺意味的,出乎意料的 | |
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511 flout | |
v./n.嘲弄,愚弄,轻视 | |
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512 yearned | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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513 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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514 scrambling | |
v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 );攀登;争夺;(军事飞机)紧急起飞 | |
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515 espying | |
v.看到( espy的现在分词 ) | |
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516 tugged | |
v.用力拉,使劲拉,猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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517 runaway | |
n.逃走的人,逃亡,亡命者;adj.逃亡的,逃走的 | |
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518 costliest | |
adj.昂贵的( costly的最高级 );代价高的;引起困难的;造成损失的 | |
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519 goodwill | |
n.善意,亲善,信誉,声誉 | |
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520 props | |
小道具; 支柱( prop的名词复数 ); 支持者; 道具; (橄榄球中的)支柱前锋 | |
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521 extricating | |
v.使摆脱困难,脱身( extricate的现在分词 ) | |
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522 recesses | |
n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 );(工作或业务活动的)中止或暂停期间;学校的课间休息;某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 );将(墙)做成凹形,在(墙)上做壁龛;休息,休会,休庭 | |
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523 theatrically | |
adv.戏剧化地 | |
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524 blandness | |
n.温柔,爽快 | |
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525 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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526 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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527 doggedly | |
adv.顽强地,固执地 | |
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528 advertising | |
n.广告业;广告活动 a.广告的;广告业务的 | |
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529 deficit | |
n.亏空,亏损;赤字,逆差 | |
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530 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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531 loomed | |
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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532 dwarfs | |
n.侏儒,矮子(dwarf的复数形式)vt.(使)显得矮小(dwarf的第三人称单数形式) | |
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533 necromancy | |
n.巫术;通灵术 | |
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534 presto | |
adv.急速地;n.急板乐段;adj.急板的 | |
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535 magistrate | |
n.地方行政官,地方法官,治安官 | |
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536 flipped | |
轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 ); 按(开关); 快速翻转; 急挥 | |
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537 acquiesced | |
v.默认,默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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538 rebuked | |
责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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539 judicial | |
adj.司法的,法庭的,审判的,明断的,公正的 | |
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540 imperturbably | |
adv.泰然地,镇静地,平静地 | |
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541 rummaging | |
翻找,搜寻( rummage的现在分词 ); 海关检查 | |
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542 sepulchrally | |
坟墓的; 丧葬的; 阴森森的; 阴沉的 | |
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543 swap | |
n.交换;vt.交换,用...作交易 | |
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544 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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545 toils | |
网 | |
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546 tribulations | |
n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 );艰难;苦难的缘由;痛苦 | |
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547 wrecked | |
adj.失事的,遇难的 | |
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548 agitating | |
搅动( agitate的现在分词 ); 激怒; 使焦虑不安; (尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而)激烈争论 | |
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549 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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550 otter | |
n.水獭 | |
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551 gull | |
n.鸥;受骗的人;v.欺诈 | |
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552 otters | |
n.(水)獭( otter的名词复数 );獭皮 | |
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553 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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554 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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555 calligraphy | |
n.书法 | |
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556 flickered | |
(通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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557 stinking | |
adj.臭的,烂醉的,讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 );发臭味;名声臭;糟透 | |
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558 scrupulously | |
adv.一丝不苟地;小心翼翼地,多顾虑地 | |
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559 arbitration | |
n.调停,仲裁 | |
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560 gulp | |
vt.吞咽,大口地吸(气);vi.哽住;n.吞咽 | |
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561 forefinger | |
n.食指 | |
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562 waggishly | |
adv.waggish(滑稽的,诙谐的)的变形 | |
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563 resounded | |
v.(指声音等)回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 );产生回响;(指某处)回荡着声音 | |
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564 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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565 hoofs | |
n.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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566 poked | |
v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 );戳出;拨弄;与(某人)性交 | |
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567 grunted | |
(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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568 query | |
n.疑问,问号,质问;vt.询问,表示怀疑 | |
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569 galloping | |
adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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570 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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571 recoiled | |
v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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572 costly | |
adj.昂贵的,价值高的,豪华的 | |
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573 binary | |
adj.二,双;二进制的;n.双(体);联星 | |
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574 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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575 nemesis | |
n.给以报应者,复仇者,难以对付的敌手 | |
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576 landmark | |
n.陆标,划时代的事,地界标 | |
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577 bully | |
n.恃强欺弱者,小流氓;vt.威胁,欺侮 | |
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578 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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579 bridled | |
给…套龙头( bridle的过去式和过去分词 ); 控制; 昂首表示轻蔑(或怨忿等); 动怒,生气 | |
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580 venom | |
n.毒液,恶毒,痛恨 | |
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581 sneeringly | |
嘲笑地,轻蔑地 | |
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582 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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583 orthography | |
n.拼字法,拼字式 | |
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584 painstaking | |
adj.苦干的;艰苦的,费力的,刻苦的 | |
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585 miseries | |
n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 );痛苦的事;穷困;常发牢骚的人 | |
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586 meekly | |
adv.温顺地,逆来顺受地 | |
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587 defiantly | |
adv.挑战地,大胆对抗地 | |
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588 climax | |
n.顶点;高潮;v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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589 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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590 consultation | |
n.咨询;商量;商议;会议 | |
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591 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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