For instance, he had seen Kendall thrown into somber7 mood by a discussion of the unhappy future of hundreds of thousands of French girls deprived of men with whom to marry. Of course it did look a bit tough on the women, Bert thought, but what can you expect? And what could one do about it? He put this thought into words.
“Do about it?” Kendall replied, gloomily. “That’s the devil of it—there’s nothing that can be done about it. They’re just up against it.... Poor devils!”
“Oh, it’ll come out all right somehow,” Bert said, with a shrug8. “They’ll find men somewhere.”
“Find men!... There aren’t any men. You can’t take a stick and whittle9 out men.”
“Then what in thunder is the use worrying about it? It’s so, and that’s all there is to it. No use getting gloomy.”
“But it makes me gloomy. It’s so rotten unfair. It’s horrible. Just think of what it means to them!...”
“Just don’t think about it and you’ll be better off.”
It was this sort of thing that Bert failed to understand. He could imagine a man worrying because he was out of a job, or because he had broken his leg, or because his house was on fire; but why anybody should go out of his way to fuss over something that seemed to him like a rather distant abstraction, he failed to comprehend. But Ken always did it.
Bert could never understand the effect of the sight of Paris on his friend. Of course it was a regular city, different from New York and Chicago, but there was no use to rave10 about it or to stand on a bridge mooning and looking at a row of buildings. Paris meant a good time of an exotic sort to Bert—and that was all. He was willing to agree that the town was beautiful if anybody insisted, but what was the use of insisting? A town was a town. It wasn’t what a town looked like that made it a good place to be; it was the business opportunities of the town and the opportunities for pleasure when business was over for the day. He went with Kendall to see Notre Dame11, and wondered why in the dickens anybody had ever gone to the trouble to hew12 all those ugly carvings13 out of stone, or why they should run fringes of them around a church. It was a sort of dingy14 old place, anyhow.... Now for a regular building, give him the H?tel de Ville. That was something like, because it might have been the post-office or a railroad station in New York. He would have traded his chance to see all the ramshackle cathedrals in France for one sight of the Woolworth Building. Now there was something! There was some use in going to see that structure! It was capable of astonishing him—but only because it was so lofty. To see it of a spring morning with the hazy15 sun tipping its golden peak meant nothing to him except looking at a tall building early in the day.... There wasn’t a high building in Paris! But Ken wanted to poke16 around to see such things as Notre Dame, and if he got pleasure out of it, that was his business.
Nevertheless, Bert saw dimly that Kendall had something admirable which was denied to him. Not that he wanted it especially! He was very well satisfied, but somehow he admired Ken for having it and liked him the better for it.... And Ken was always philosophizing about things, and advancing theories, and worrying about morals, and splitting hairs of right and wrong. To Bert certain things were wrong, and the rest didn’t matter. It was wrong to murder and to steal or to kick a child or to cheat at cards or in any other game. As for the bulk of the rest of the possible acts of man, he saw them as neuter, and not mattering much.... But Ken could get up a moral argument over the way he spread his bread! And these arguments had the power to upset his friend completely, to make him gloomy, to worry him.... It was utter nonsense, but it was a part of Ken and Ken was his friend.
He felt a sort of duty to look after Ken, a responsibility for him. He was actually troubled sometimes by one of Ken’s moods and deliberately17 thought up means to cheer him.... And now he was really worried. He had never seen Kendall as he had appeared last night. Something out of the ordinary had happened. Most likely it was nothing that the ordinary fellow would think twice about, but the Lord only knew how it would affect Ken. Anyhow, Ken thought he was in some sort of trouble, and Bert was really disturbed. He had wanted to do something about it last night, but Madeleine had prevented, and now he felt rather guilty. Putting on his bathrobe and slippers19, he went to Ken’s door and opened it softly. Ken was sitting up in bed, staring out of the window.
“Morning,” said Bert, affably.
“Morning,” replied Kendall, shortly.
“Um!... Cheerful, ain’t you? Say, what’s eating you, anyhow?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, my aunt’s knee-cap! Come through. What’s carried off your goat?”
Kendall did not reply.
“Get up and have breakfast. I hear Arlette in the kitchen. You’ll feel better after you’ve had a bowl of chocolate warming up your tummy.”
“I don’t want any breakfast.”
“Huh?...” Bert was beginning now to be seriously troubled. “Say, what’s the matter, anyhow? Is it Andree?”
“I’ve just been a damn fool, that’s all.”
“Ought to be used to it,” said Bert, flippantly, and then, more seriously, “Say, you don’t mean to say that you’ve gone and went and fallen in love with her, or anything like that?”
“Look here,” Ken said, morosely20, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I do,” said Bert, with a grin, “so we’re going to talk. I’m the biggest, and I can doggone well hold you while we thrash it out. Now tell it to your uncle. Are you in love with Andree?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“That means you are.... What about it? Say, you don’t mean you’re worrying about marrying her, do you?”
Ken laughed unpleasantly. “I wouldn’t marry her if she was the last woman on earth. I never want to see her again. I never want to think about her again.”
“Huh! Had a row, eh?”
“No.”
Bert glowered21 at his friend a minute. “I don’t know whether you are interested or not, but you give me an acute pain. Why in blazes can’t you go along and have a good time like a fellow ought to without always landing into the middle of something that fusses you all up? You think too darn much.... Now there’s Madeleine and I—you don’t see me doing any worrying or scrapping22, do you? Well!... Nor falling in love. You bet you don’t! When I fall in love it will be with some American girl, and then I’ll settle down and raise a family and wear slippers in the evening. But now I’m out to have what fun is going before I get my style cramped23. I like Madeleine and she likes me.... That’s all. I’m giving her a good time, and she’s a good fellow—but that’s all there is to it. She knows it and I know it, and there you are. I saw to that right at the start-off. I told her. You bet I did! I said to her, ‘Now look here, young lady, we’re just playing, understand. There’s nothing serious about this. I’m going back to America some day, and when I do, it’s good-by.’ And she feels the same way about it.... And that’s the only system.”
Arlette came shuffling24 into the room after Kendall’s shoes and responded to Bert’s greeting with a grin and a bob of her head.
“Arlette,” said Bert, “Monsieur Ken’s in love. You’ve had experience, eh? What’s to be done about it?”
“Eh?... In love!... Mon Dieu! What does one do about it? One makes nothing. Either one is in love or one is not.... I have been in love.” She wagged her head sagely25.
“I knew it. I could tell it just by looking at you. What did you do?”
“I married ... and now I have grandchildren, and love is no more for me.... But I remember it, messieurs.... Yes, yes, I often think of it. Is that not droll26?” Again she waggled her head.
“But Monsieur Ken is in love and he doesn’t seem to like it.”
“It happens so,” she said. “There is both joy and sorrow. But monsieur is loved in return. I have perceived it. Why, then, is he not joyous27?”
“You tell the answer. I don’t know.”
“He loves Mademoiselle Andree; Mademoiselle Andree loves him. She is very pretty, very sweet.... Well, then?” She made a gesture with her arms as if to say that the thing was beyond human comprehension.
“All the Americans are mad,” said Bert in French, employing the phrase of the streets.
“It is true,” said Arlette, nodding. “I have seen it.”
“And when they are in love they are madder than ever.”
“It may well be believed.”
“Oh, get out and leave me alone, both of you,” Ken said, morosely.
“Nothing of the sort. Explain carefully the difficulty to Arlette and me. We are the council of experts.”
“It’s nothing—except that I was a fool to get mixed up in this kind of a thing. It’s rotten.”
“It’s his conscience, Arlette,” said Bert, with mock impressiveness.
“When the conscience makes to interfere28 in a matter of love,” said Arlette, “it means either that one is not in love at all or that one is jealous. Love, messieurs, is its own conscience.”
“Madeleine said you were jealous last night. Two experts agree.... Jealous! Um!...”
“I’m not jealous, you gibbering idiot. I—It’s just that I thought Andree was something and find she’s not.... It’s the whole idea over here. I thought it was right—and it’s rotten. I was losing my balance. I thought wrong could be right.”
“It never can be when the other fellow does it,” said Bert, with more acuteness than usual. “Then you’re not worrying about marrying Andree? And you have discovered that you’re being very wicked, and so you’re in the dumps, and you’re figuring on calling the whole thing off and living a noble and austere29 life. Huh!... What happened last night? You can’t fool your uncle. You got a letter from home, and then something happened. What was it?”
“I saw Andree with that actor.”
“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Arlette, and she passed off, as though frightened, to her kitchen.
“You saw them together? Where?”
“In a café?”
“Yes—go on.”
“That’s all.”
“And you—Oh, say—all this cat-fit is because you saw Andree in a café with another man! Get out!”
“With that particular man. You know what Jacques said about him.... You know Andree wants to get into the Conservatoire and on the stage. I introduced them—”
“More fool you,” said Bert, succinctly30.
“It was plain enough. She could use him. She needed his influence—so—Oh, what’s the use? I don’t want to talk about it.”
Bert thought that Ken’s view was altogether likely. And why not? But he conceived it to be his duty to argue against it in his friend’s interest. “Just a case of plain, or garden, jealousy31. Nothing to it. You see them together in a café and jump to conclusions. Didn’t hang around to see where they went?”
“Certainly not.”
“Made up your mind with a snap—and then, because you were jealous, and it looked as if your nose was out of joint32, you hollered sour grapes. In a second it all got to be immoral33 and naughty—and you’re worked up to a state of mind.... If this actor had never come along, and if Andree had loved you alone and all that, would it have been wrong?... Of course not, and you know it.”
Ken did not reply, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that Bert was right.
“You’d better give her a chance to explain—or did you burst in on the party and rear and tear all over the place?”
“They never knew I saw them.”
“Then, old son, you’d better let Andree tell you about it. Madeleine says she loves you and Arlette says she loves you—and, believe me, they’re experts.”
“If she loves me, and then would do such a thing, it’s all the worse.... I’ll never see her again.”
“Well, if your mind’s made up, there’s the end of the whole thing. Get up and eat and forget it.... The river’s full of fish.”
“You don’t think I’d try it again. Never!... I’ve been a fool, and a rotten fool.... I fooled myself into thinking one could do this kind of thing and not be wrong. I got it into my head that our ideas of morals in America were old-fashioned and narrow and absurd, and that the French were right.”
“Of course you’d have to philosophize about it.”
“Well, I’m through now. I’ve got what was coming to me—and right on top of it there was a letter from mother.”
“I’ll bet I know the kind. I’ve stayed at your house, you know.”
“Do you think—” Ken bit his lips and stopped.
“No, and I’m not going to. I’m satisfied. What’s the use wasting energy thinking when it doesn’t earn you anything? You got a jolt34 and a sermon, and between them they’ve given you a mental twister.... After we’ve walked down to the office you’ll feel better, son.... Get up before I haul you out.”
Kendall got heavily out of bed while Bert returned to his own room to dress. When one is Kendall Ware’s age the morning should be the pleasantest part of the day, and usually it is so. One does not arise weary and irritable35, but joyously36, looking forward to the day that is coming.... This morning Ken left his bed like a man of sixty whose digestion37 has become the primary consideration of his life, and who is not fit to enter human society before noon. He had not slept well, his head was heavy—and he despised himself. At any rate, he fancied he despised himself, which makes for the same result. There was the sharp grief of youth as well, and one does not wisely who belittles38 the griefs of youth. It seems to be true that the energies which make youth wonderful give of their strength to the pain that youth can feel.... Now he was certain he had loved Andree and he had never experienced anything that compared with the distress39 and chagrin40 at his discovery that he had loved an unworthy object. He had idealized Andree, had made of her something more than human, something above the laws of humanity, mystic, of the stuff of which fairies are made, and she had been proved dross42 and himself a self-deluded fool.... He was bitter against himself and her. His thoughts made him well worthy41 to accept a high place in the company of those who gathered in the vestibule of his church at home....
He approached the table without appetite, and Arlette, when she brought in the pitcher43 of chocolate, eyed him sidewise and askance, and waddled44 out, shaking her head uneasily. He could hear her muttering to herself, and it annoyed him, because he knew she was troubled about him. Bert had chosen to leave him alone and to let the thing run its course, so the breakfast was a silent one. They put on their overseas caps and descended45 the stairs without a word.
In the passageway the concierge46 was waiting for them with the friendly smile which had always made his returnings to the apartment seem more like homecomings. She rested on her broom and wished them good morning.
“Your national fête is but a few days away,” she said. “It is made a national fête for us also—this fourth day of July. All Paris—all France will make it a day the like of which has not been seen. I hear this on all sides.... It is a pleasure to me to have American officers in this house. I am envied. I speak only the truth. Therefore I hope messieurs the American officers will procure47 for me flags of their country to hang from their windows. It will be an honor. Will messieurs see to this matter?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Bert. “I’ll get them for you to-day.”
“Many thanks,” she said, and returned to her sweeping48.
“Nice old lady,” said Bert. “They’re all nice. Cordial lot—these French people.... I wonder how we would act in America if we had a couple of millions of foreign soldiers planted down on us. Mostly we’re disagreeable to strangers.”
Ken did not answer. He was staring straight before him and thinking, thinking, thinking. His thoughts were intolerant thoughts, uncharitable, narrow. It was of thoughts such as his, persisted in until they become habitual49, that are born the hanging of witches and the burning of martyrs50.... They were not natural to him, and they filled him with discomfort51 and restlessness. He had a vague sense that he was being not altogether fair, and that he was condemning52 the whole because of a fault in a part. All France must not necessarily be evil because Andree had proved to be faithless, but he was declaring it to be evil. There was no good in it; there was no good in anything except the ruthless bigotry53 which had taken possession of him. There was no God but Puritanism, and Narrowness was its prophet....
They reached the élysées Palace Hotel in which were their offices. He had not enjoyed his walk; there had been none of that pleasure which always before he derived54 from the great open stretches and wide boulevards of Paris. Beauty had ceased to exist or to signify.... He had a sensation of being shriveled up and dried—of lifelessness, and his thoughts seemed to rub against one another like sand-paper.... He saw it all as the unpleasant process of a moral awakening55; it was not that; it was the disgruntlement of a youth over a love-affair gone awry56....
“Hope it wears off during the day,” said Bert.
Ken only grunted57, and turned up the stairs.
It was a futile58 day and he was glad when it came to an end. It was not until he was hanging his cap on the hall tree that he remembered Andree was to come—to come there to dine this evening. He paused with hand in mid-air as he recalled how they had made the plan. Hereafter she was not to meet him at the Metro59, but would come directly to the apartment. It would be better, and there was something exquisitely60 attractive about it. He had been very happy. Her lips had been close to his as she had given her promise to come there to him; the perfume of her had been in his nostrils61, and in that maddening way of perfumes it returned now unasked and undesired. It was almost as if she were there, close to him, but invisible. He remembered that she had lain in his arms at the moment, smiling, sweet, a marvelous creature to be treasured with a great tenderness.... And she had gone from that to a meeting with another man—to purchase material success at the price of spurious love!...
What should he do? He did not want to see her, felt that he could not undergo the ordeal62 of seeing her.... He snatched his cap and turned to the door, only to replace it again on the hall tree and to stand wavering, undecided.... He did not know it, would not admit it, but his heart cried out to see her, to feel the delight of her presence.... He despised her, but he loved her.... As one does at such moments, he sought refuge in sophistry63. It was necessary for him to see her this last single time. He must tell her that he had detected her infamy64 and, with harsh words, cast her out of his life. He told himself that this was both appropriate and essential.... Yes, he would allow her to come and would admit her—and then—and then she should hear the truth, the bald truth. She should hear what a decent man thought of such behavior as hers.... Not that it would benefit her or change a character that could be guilty of the thing of which she was guilty.... But he had to accuse her.... It was the desire, the cruel desire, which comes to every man at some moment, for some cause, to inflict65 agony on the one he most loves....
Kendall glanced at his watch. It wanted fifteen minutes to seven, the hour at which Andree would arrive, so he went into the salon66, there to pace up and down, restlessly composing dignified67 but biting speeches one after the other and forgetting them as soon as composed.... Bert entered and spoke68 to him, but Kendall only growled69, and Bert passed into his own room with a shrug. From the door to the window Kendall paced, and from the window to the door, to and fro, with rapid, excited stride. As the moment of Andree’s arrival neared, his thoughts became less coherent and himself more apprehensive70. He felt that it was his duty to be very angry, so he worked himself up to anger.... Then came a soft, timid rap at the door.
He strode into the hall and flung the door open savagely71. There stood Andree, fragile, lovely, appealing, her face turned up to his with that wistful question which it always wore when they first met. She looked so dainty, so small, so sweet!... Her eyes met his and waited a moment for his smile of welcome before they smiled. Always she seemed to be afraid—afraid that she would not read welcome in his eyes. He remembered it, and her look accused him. He stood silent, staring. Her lips parted at the strangeness of his manner and he saw astonishment72 grow in her dark-shaded eyes.... He found the rage up to which he had worked himself slipping away from him; as he looked down at her it even seemed impossible to believe that she was not all he had thought her to be. There was an innocence73, a trustfulness about her.
“Come in, mademoiselle,” he said, coldly, stepping back to permit her to pass.
She entered slowly, diffidently. He could see that she was surprised, hurt by his manner, and a feeling of guilt18 overtook him. She stopped near him and turned expectantly.... He understood. He was expected to act the lover; she was awaiting his lover-like greeting.... He discovered how much bolder and more resolute74 one may be in anticipation75 than at the required moment.
“Do not take off your things,” he said, striving to keep his voice steady and emotionless. “Will you come in here?”
She obeyed silently, with a silence that came from sudden apprehension76. He followed her and stood before her, searching for words with which to begin, and she, her face grave and a little sad, as was its custom, stood very still, but once or twice her eyes turned upward quickly to read his face. The speeches he had prepared against this moment had hidden themselves away, and he was left with an uncomfortable feeling of inadequacy77 to the event. He hesitated; the silence became unsupportable, and he began with sudden harshness, a harshness that a little frightened himself when he heard it.
“I never intended to see you again,” he said, “but I forgot you were coming here to-night.” He spoke in English, rapidly, but she understood him, for her eyes lifted now and remained fixed78 on his own, dark, frightened, appealing. He looked into them and turned hastily away. There was a magic in them that he feared; they seemed so pure, so honest.... Her lips parted a little, but she did not speak.
“I loved you,” he said, hoarsely79, “and I trusted you.... I thought you were good and honest. I trusted you, do you understand? Trusted you and believed in you.” Words were coming more easily now, and with facility in speech returned what he fancied to be his righteous anger. “I was a fool.... I thought that you, even brought up in this city, in this way of life, could be good and faithful.... You fooled me—I should have known better. It was my own fault.... But I’ve got my lesson. I’ve seen. I know now.... I loved you—I was all ready to love you—but I despise you.... Do you understand? I despise you. You are bad—bad. You said you loved me and you gave me your love—and it was all a lie.... How many other men are you telling the same thing? Is every day given to somebody?” He was bitter now, cruelly bitter.
She did not speak, but stared up at him as though she did not believe, at least as if she did not understand. Her face was pitiful in its surprise and pain. Motionless, without movement or gesture, she stood and looked up into his face as a dog might look into the face of his master, knowing that master is about to shoot him to death.
“I never want to see you again. I want to forget you. I wish I could forget that I ever saw you and all that has happened. Probably it doesn’t matter to you. Maybe you don’t see any harm in what you’ve done—but it was squalid and contemptible80.”
His voice rose with his anger and she shrank back from him. Bert, startled, came hurrying into the room and stopped with amazement81.
“Ken,” he exclaimed, “easy ... easy. What’s all this?”
“Please go away, Bert.... I’m telling her what I think of her.... Go away.”
Bert looked curiously82 at Andree, who did not move her eyes from Kendall’s face, and then he shook his head.
“No need to shout,” he said. “You’re excited, old man.” He turned to Andree. “You mustn’t mind him. He’s wrought83 up about something.”
Andree did not appear to notice that Bert was present.
He laid his hand on Kendall’s arm. “Come along,” he said. “Don’t say something you’ll be sorry for.... If you want Andree to go away, I’ll take her.... Come on into your room.” He was really apprehensive, for Kendall’s eyes glowed somberly, his face was convulsed with toxic84 emotion.
Ken shook off his friend’s hand. “Leave me be.... This is my affair.” He pointed85 to the door. “Go!...” he said to Andree, his voice quivering. “You don’t know what you’ve done—what miserable86 thing you’ve done.... I despise you.... I despise you....”
Bert stepped forward and touched her arm. “You’d better go, I guess,” he said in a low tone. “Ken’s pretty excited. Let me take you down.” His voice was sympathetic.
Andree did not move. “Oh, I do not onderstan’.... I do not onderstan’ ...” she said, like a frightened child.
“Don’t lie,” said Kendall, furiously. “Go!... And never come back.... I’ll never see you again.”
She stood an instant more, her eyes seeking his, demanding of his. Then, very slowly, very quietly, without sob87 or even a quiver of her dainty lips, she turned and walked to the door. There she paused and turned to look at him again, rather drooping88, hopeless, appealing.... “Oh, it is not well.... I do not onderstan’,” she said.
Kendall turned his back.... In another instant the door had opened and closed and Andree was gone. He stood with hands clenched89, experiencing a certain unholy satisfaction. He had done the thing thoroughly90. He had finished it. He had told her what he thought of her, and he was rid of her forever.
Presently Bert returned. He walked up to his friend with a grim look upon his usually nonchalant face. “That was pretty average brutal,” he said. “Maybe it’s good Presbyterian to do that sort of thing.... If it is, I thank God I’m a heathen.... That poor little kid! Did you see her face?...”
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1
boisterousness
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| n.喧闹；欢跃；（风暴）狂烈 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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6
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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7
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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whittle
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| v.削（木头），削减；n.屠刀 | |
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rave
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| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
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11
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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hew
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| v.砍；伐；削 | |
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carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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poke
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| 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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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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morosely
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| adv.愁眉苦脸地，忧郁地 | |
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glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scrapping
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| 刮，切除坯体余泥 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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sagely
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| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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belittles
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| 使显得微小，轻视，贬低( belittle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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dross
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| n.渣滓；无用之物 | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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concierge
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| n.管理员；门房 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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bigotry
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| n.偏见，偏执，持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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metro
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| n.地铁；adj.大都市的；(METRO)麦德隆(财富500强公司之一总部所在地德国，主要经营零售) | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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sophistry
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| n.诡辩 | |
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infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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growled
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| 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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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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83
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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toxic
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| adj.有毒的，因中毒引起的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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