The Flybynights had no house of their own; they merely occupied a room on the basement of the Orpheus tavern,--a dull sombre old room, with big couches and lounges covered with frayed8 leather, with a smoky old green-flock paper, and with no ornament9 save a battered10 old looking-glass in a fly-blown frame. Occasionally roisterers new to town, on their way to the big concert-room of the Orpheus, where they were to be enchanted11 with the humour of Mr. Bloss's "Dying Cadger's Lament," or the pathos12 of Mr. Seeinault's "Trim-built Wherry," would in mistake push open the green-baize door leading to the Flybynights sanctum, and immediately withdraw in dismay at the dinginess14 of the room and the grim aspect of its occupants. That grimness, however, was only assumed at the apparition15 of a stranger; when the members were alone among themselves, perfect freedom from restraint was the rule. And if, on the next morning, the jurymen who listened with awe16 to the withering17 denunciations which fell from the lips of the learned counsel for the prosecution,--the bank-directors who nodded approval to the suggestions of certain shrewd financiers,--the noble sitters who marked the brows of the artists engaged on their portraits, "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,"--nay, even the patients who gazed with eager eyes to glean18 something from the countenances19 of the physicians then clutching their pulses,--had seen counsel, financiers, artists, and physicians on the previous evening at the Flybynights, they could not have recognised them for the same men. The fame of the club spread; anecdotes20 and bon-mots ran round town more quickly, and were better received, when they had the Flybynight stamp. It was rumoured21 that O'Blank and Macaster, the great authors, were occasionally to be seen there in the flesh, conversing22 like ordinary mortals; heavy swells24 found out that it was open as late as Pratt's, and asked each other, in elliptic phraseology, "Whether 'twasn't good kind place, eh? met 'musing25 kind fellahs there; made laugh'n, that kind thing?" But though they made various attempts at election, they never got beyond an occasional visit to the club; friendly attempts to smuggle26 them in as members were dead failures; and at every ballot27, generally held at midnight, the strident voice of Rupert Robinson, author and dramatist, could be heard asking, at the mention of any candidate's name, "Who is he? what can he do? what has he done?" questions which, unless satisfactorily answered, caused the immediate13 pilling of the pretender to association with the Flybynights.
A few weeks after the Schr?ders' reception, Beresford and Simnel, who had been dining together, strolled into the club soon after midnight. Beresford was a member; Simnel came as his guest; the latter would have been safe of election, as his tact28 and shrewdness were very generally known and highly esteemed29 amongst the men, but he always refused to be put in nomination30. "It's all very well for Beresford," he would say; "he's a Commissioner31, and can do as he likes; I'm an upper servant; and though you're a deuced pleasant set of fellows, you haven't got a great name for respectability with the B.P., or British Public, whom I serve. It's horribly virtuous32, is the B.P., and is always in bed before you sweet youths meet in this bower33 of bliss34. So that though I'm delighted to come occasionally with Charley and pay you a visit, I must be in a position, if called upon, to swear that I'm not an affiliated35 member of your sacred brotherhood36." The other men understood all this, and liked Simnel better for his candour; and there was no visitor at the Flybynights more welcome than he. It was a great occasion at the Flybynights; one of the members, Mr. Plinlimmon the poet, had that day been giving a lecture "On Sentiment, its Use and Abuse," at St. Cecilia's Hall, and had had great success. For Mr. Plinlimmon was not a mere7 common poet who made verses and sold them; he was cousin to Lady Heritage, whose husband was the Lord Privy-Purse; and he was very well off, and wrote only for his amusement, and consequently was the very man to be patronised. Moreover, he wrote weak little verselets, like very-much-diluted Wordsworth, abounding37 in passages quotable for Academy pictures of bread-and-butter children; and he was much taken up by Mr. Spicklittle, the editor of the Boomerang Magazine, so soon as it was understood that he stood well with the fashionable world. And there had been a very fashionable audience at St. Cecilia's Hall to hear Mr. Plinlimmon on "Sentiment," and the stalls had been filled with what was afterwards stated in the public prints to be the rank and flower of the land; and high-born women had complimented him on the conclusion of his labours, and had voted his lecture charming; all of which thoroughly consoled the lecturer, and enabled him to forget the rude conduct of certain rough-spoken critics in the body of the hall, who had loudly cried "Bosh!" at his finest passages, and gone out with much shuffling38 of thick boots and dropping of heavy walking-sticks long before his peroration39. And after dining with a countess, Mr. Plinlimmon thought that the right thing was to go down and show himself at the Flybynights Club, of which he was a member; and he had entered the room just before Beresford and Simnel arrived.
"Hail, Plinlimmon!" shouted Mr. Magnus the historian, with kindly40 glances beaming through his spectacles; "hail, bard41 of the what-d'ye-call-it! How air you, colonel?"
"Hallo, Plinlimmon!" shouted Mr. Rupert Robinson; "been giving a show, haven't you? what sort of house did you have? who looked after your checks? you were very well billed, I noticed."
"Lecturing, haven't you?" asked Mr. Slater, critic of the Moon.
"Yes," said Plinlimmon, "I have been giving a lecture."
"Ah!" said Mr. Schrink, critic of the Statesman, "if I'm not wrong, Dr. Johnson defines the verb to lecture as to 'instruct insolently43 and dogmatically.' You're quite capable of that, Plinlimmon."
"Sentiment, sir!" said Mr. Plinlimmon, fiercely; it began to dawn on him that he was being chaffed.
"Deary me!" said Mr. Mugg, with feigned45 wonder and uplifted hands; "sentiment, eh? them's my sentiments!"
"Silence, you ribalds!" said Mr. Magnus. "You had a large attendance, I hear, Plinlimmon; more women than men, though, I suppose? Men don't come in the daytime."
"One old woman jawing48 always brings together a lot of others," growled49 Mr. Dunster, beneath his breath. He had been apparently51 dozing52 in a far corner of the room, but had roused up at the word "aristocracy,"--as sure an irritant to him as a red rag to a bull,--and his bright blue eyes were gleaming.
"I didn't think much of your delivery, Plinlimmon," said Mr. Slater.
"It was as slow as a midday postman's, and not so sure," said Mr. Schrink; "you got uncommonly53 drowsy54 and bag-pipy at times."
"I'll tell you what it is Plinlimmon," said Mr. Dunster; "you are uncommonly dreary! You're a swell23, and you can't help it; but you were horribly slow. I'll tell you what it is, my young friend; you're far too dull by yourself,--you want a piano."
During the roar which followed this remark, Beresford felt a light touch on his arm, and turning round saw Dr. Prater55.
Not to be known to Dr. Prater was to confess that the "pleasure of your acquaintance" was of little value; for assuredly, had it been worth any thing, Dr. Prater would have had it by hook or by crook56. A wonderful man, Dr. Prater, who had risen from nothing, as his detractors said; but however that might be, he had a practice scarcely excelled by any in London. Heart and lungs were Dr. Prater's specialities; and persons imagining themselves afflicted57 in those regions came from all parts of England, and thronged58 the doctor's dining room in Queen-Anne Street in the early forenoons, vainly pretending to read Darwin On the Fertilisation of Orchids59, the Life of Captain Hedley Vicars, or the Supplement of yesterday's Times; and furtively60 glancing round at the other occupants of the room, and wondering what was the matter with them. That dining-room looked rather different about a dozen times in the season, of an evening, when the books were cleared away, and the big bronze gas-chandelier lighted, and the doctor sat at the large round-table surrounded by a dozen of the pleasantest people in London. Such a mixture! Never was such a man for "bringing people together" as Dr. Prater. The manager of the Italian Opera (Dr. Prater's name was to all the sick-certificates for singers) would be seated next to a judge, who would have a leading member of the Jockey Club on his other hand, and a bishop61 for his vis-à-vis. Next the bishop would be a cotton-lord, next to him the artist of a comic periodical, and next to him a rising member of the Opposition62, with an Indian colonel and an American comedian, here on a starring engagement, in juxtaposition63. The dinner was always good, the wines excellent, and the doctor was the life and soul of the party. He had something special to say to every one; and as his big protruding64 eyes shone and glimmered65 through his gold-rimmed spectacles, he looked like a convivial little owl50. A very different man over the dinner-table to the smug little pale-faced man in black, whom wretched patients found in the morning sitting behind a leather-covered table, on which a stethoscope was conspicuously66 displayed, and who, after sounding the chests of consumptive curates or struggling clerks, would say, with an air of blandness67, dashed with sorrow, "I'm afraid the proverbially treacherous68 air of our climate will not do for us, my dear sir! I'm afraid we must spend our winter at Madeira, or at least at Pau. Good day to you;" and then the doctor, after shaking hands with his patient, would slip the tips of his fingers into his trousers-pockets, into which would fall another little paper-package to join a number already there deposited, while the curate or clerk, whose yearly income was perhaps two hundred pounds, and who probably had debts amounting to twice his annual earnings69, would go away wondering whether it was better to endeavour to borrow the further sum necessary at ruinous interest, or to go back and die in the cold Lincolnshire clay parish, or in the bleak70 Northern city, as the case might be. On one thing the doctor prided himself greatly, that he never let a patient know what he thought of him. He would bid a man remove his waistcoat with a semi-jocund air, and the next instant listen to a peculiar71 "click" inside his frame, which betrayed the presence of heart-disease liable at any moment to carry the man off, without altering a muscle of his face or a tone of his voice. "Hum! ha! we must be a little careful; we must not expose ourselves to the night-air! Take a leetle more care of yourself, my dear sir; for instance, I would wear a wrap round the throat--some wrap, you know, to prevent the cold striking to the part affected72. Send this to Bell's, and get it made up, and take it three times a-day; and let me see you on--on Saturday. Good day to you." And there would not be the smallest quiver in the hard metallic73 voice, or the smallest twinkle in the observant eye behind the gold-rimmed glasses, although the doctor knew that the demon74 Consumption, by his buffet75, had raised that red spot on the sufferer's cheek, and was rapidly eating away his vitality76.
But if Dr. Prater kept a strict reticence77 to his patients as regarded their own ailments78, he was never so happy as when enlarging to them on the diseases of their fellow-sufferers, or of informing esoteric circles of the special varieties of disorder79 with which his practice led him to cope. "You ill, my dear sir!" he would say to some puny80 specimen81; then, settling himself into his waistcoat after examination, "you complain of narrow-chestedness,--why, my dear sir, do you know Sir Hawker de la Crache? You've a pectoral development which is perfectly82 surprising when contrasted with Sir Hawker's. But then he, poor man! last stage,--Madeira no good,--would sit up all night playing whist at Reid's Hotel. Algiers no good,--too much brandy, tobacco, and baccarat with French officers--nothing any good. You, my dear sir, compared to Sir Hawker--pooh, nonsense!" Or in another form: "Any such case, my dear madam? any such case?"--turning to a large book, having previously83 consulted a small index--"a hundred such! Here, for instance, Lady Susan Bray84, now staying at Ventnor, living entirely85 on asses'-milk--in some of our conditions we must live on asses'-milk--left lung quite gone, life hanging by a thread. You're a Juno, ma'am, in comparison to Lady Susan!" There was no mistake, however, about the doctor's talent; men in his own profession, who sneered86 at his charlatanerie of manner, allowed that he was thoroughly well versed87 in his subject. He was very fond of young men's society; and, with all his engagements, always found time to dine occasionally with the Guards at Windsor, with a City Company or two, or with a snug88 set en petit comité in Temple chambers89, and to visit the behind-scenes of two or three theatres, the receptions of certain great ladies, and occasionally the meetings of the Flybynights Club. To the latter he always came in a special suit of clothes on account of the impregnation of tobacco-smoke; and when coming thither90 he left his carriage and his address, in case he was required, at the Minerva, with orders to fetch him at once. It would never have done for some of his patients to know that he was a member of the Flybynights.
Such was Dr. Prater, who touched Beresford on the arm and said, "Not again, my dear sir! I will not be balked91 of the opportunity of saying, 'how d'ye do?' to you again."
"Ah, doctor," said Beresford with that apparent frankness and bonhomie to which he owed so much of his popularity, "delighted to see you! But what do you mean 'balked of the opportunity'? Where was that?"
"A few weeks since, just before I left town;--I've been away, and Dr. Seaton has kindly attended to my practice;--we met at the house of our charming friend Mrs. Schr?der; but I could not catch your eye. You were too well engaged; there was, as somebody--I don't know who, but somebody that every one knows--has said, there was metal more attractive. Ha! ha! A charming woman, Mrs. Schr?der! a very charming woman!"
"Very charming," echoed Mr. Beresford shortly, not particularly caring about finding himself thoroughly focussed by the doctor's sharpest glances concentrated through his spectacles. "By the way, don't you know our secretary, Mr. Simnel, Dr. Prater?"
The gentlemen bowed. "I have the pleasure of being well acquainted with Mr. Simnel by name, and of being at the present moment engaged in a correspondence with him in reference to a certificate which I have given. And, by the way, my dear sir," turning to Simnel, "you really must give young Pierrepoint his six weeks. You must indeed!"
"If it rested with me, doctor, I'd give him unlimited92 leave; confer on him the order of the 'sack,'" said Simnel, bluntly--"an idle stuck-up young hound!"
"Harsh words, my dear sir; harsh words! However, I will leave our young friend's case with you and Mr. Beresford; I am sure it could not be in better hands. You were not in Saxe-Coburg Square the other night, I think? De-lightful party!"
"No," said Simnel, "I'm not a great evening-party man myself; it's only your butterflies of fashion, like our friend here, who enjoy those light and airy gaieties. My pleasures are of a more substantial kind. By the way, doctor, how's Kitty Vavasour's cough?"
The doctor's eyes twinkled as he replied, "Oh, much better--very much better. Horrible draught93 down that first entrance, my dear sir, as she perhaps told--I mean, as you probably know. Dreadful draught! enough to kill half the coryphées in London. I've spoken to Grabb about it, but he won't do any thing; and when I hinted at the drapery, asked me if I thought he was going to let his ballet-girls dance in bathing-gowns. Very rude man, Grabb."
"Very good style they did that in the other night," said Beresford, cutting in--"in Saxe-Coburg Square, I mean--very good, wasn't it? I suppose it was the lady's taste; but when they get hold of a woman with any notion of arrangement and effect, these parvenu94 fellows from the City certainly don't grudge95 the money for their fun. And in the way the Schr?ders are living, the establishment must cost a pretty sum, I should imagine."
"A pretty sum indeed, my dear sir," said the doctor. "However, I understand on all sides that Mr. Schr?der can perfectly afford it. I hear from those who ought to know" (a great phrase of Dr. Prater's, this) "that his income is princely!" And then the doctor looked at the other two and repeated "princely!" and smacked96 his lips as though the word had quite a nice taste in his mouth.
"It's a good thing to be a Polish Jew," growled Mr. Simnel. "This fellow's ancestors lent money to long-haired Grafs and swaggering Electors, and got their interest when they could; and thought themselves deuced lucky not to get their teeth pulled out when they asked for a little on account, or not to be put on the fire when they presented their bill. Their descendant lives in pleasanter days; we've given up pulling out their teeth, worse luck! And that neat little instrument, 'Victoria, by the grace,' is as open to Jews as Christians97. I always thought there was something wrong in that."
"This Schr?der is a tremendously lucky fellow, by Jove!" said Beresford. "He's got a very pretty wife and an enormous fortune; and though he's not young, to judge from all appearances, has a constitution of iron, and will live for years to enjoy his good fortune."
"Ah, my dear sir," said Dr. Prater in a low and solemn voice, "I'm afraid you're not correct in one particular; not correct in one particular!" and the little man shook his head and looked specially98 oracular.
Simnel glanced up at him at once from under his heavy eyebrows99; but Beresford only said, "Why, doctor, you're not going to try and make me believe any envious100 disparagement101 of Schr?der's riches?"
"Not for the world, my dear sir; not for the world! Such rumours102 have been spread! but, as you say, only among the envious and jealous, who would whisper-away Coutts's credit, and decline to intrust their miserable103 balance to Barings'! No; my doubts as to Schr?der relate to another matter."
"His health?" said Simnel, who had kept his eyes on the solemn little man, and was regarding him keenly.
"Pre-cisely!" said the doctor. And he stepped aside for an instant, helped himself to a pinch of snuff from a box on a neighbouring table, and returned to his companions, gazing up at them with a solemn steady stare that made him look more like an owl than ever.
"His health!" exclaimed Beresford, "why there's surely nothing the matter with that! He has the chest of a horse and the digestion104 of an ostrich105. I don't know a man of his age to whom, to look at, you'd give a longer life."
"Right, my dear sir," replied the doctor, "right enough from a non-professional view. But Mr. Schr?der, like the gentleman of whom I have heard, but whose name I can't call to mind, has that within which passeth show. I know the exact state of his condition."
"This is very interesting," said Mr. Simnel, drawing closer to the doctor on the ottoman; "very interesting, indeed; yours is a wonderful profession, doctor, for gaining insight into men and things. Would it be too much to ask you to tell us a little more about this particular case?"
"Well, you know, I don't often talk of these matters; there are men in our profession, my dear sir, who gossip and chatter106, and I believe make it pay very well; but they are men of no intellect, mere quacks107 and charlatans108--quacks and charlatans! But with gentlemen like yourselves, men of the world, I don't mind occasionally revealing a few of the secrets of the--the--what d'ye call 'em?--prison-house. The fact is--" and the doctor lowered his voice and looked additionally solemn,--"that Mr. Schr?der's life hangs by a thread."
Both his listeners started, and Mr. Simnel from between his set teeth said, "The devil!"
"By a thread!" repeated the doctor, holding out his finger and thumb as though he actually had the thread between them. "He may go off at any moment; his life is not certain for an hour; he's engaged, as you know, in tremendous transactions, and any sudden fright or passion would be his certain death."
"Ah, then his disease is--"
"Heart, my dear sir, heart!" said the doctor, tapping himself on the left side of his waistcoat; "his heart's diseased,--one cannot exactly say how far, but I suspect strongly,--and he may go out at any moment like the snuff of a candle."
"Have you known this long?" asked Beresford.
"Only two days: he came to me two days ago to consult me about a little worrying cough which he described himself as having; and in listening at his chest I heard the death-beat. No mistaking it, my dear sir; when you've once heard that 'click,' you never forget it."
"By Jove, how horrible!" said Simnel.
"Poor devil! does he know it himself?" asked Beresford.
"Know it, my dear sir? Of course not. You don't imagine I told him? Why the shock might have killed him on the spot. Oh, dear, no! I prescribed for his cough, and told him specially to avoid all kind of excitement: that was the only warning I dare give him."
As the doctor said this, Mr. Simnel rose. "It's a horrible idea," said he with a shudder--"horrible!"
"Very common, my dear sir, very common. If you knew how many men there are whom I meet out at dinner, in society, here and there, whom I know to be as distinctly marked for death as if I saw the plague-spot on their breasts!"
"Well, you've completely frightened me," said Beresford. "I'll get home to bed, and try and forget it in sleep. Are you coming, Simnel? Good night, doctor." And the two gentlemen went out together, leaving the little doctor already sidling up to another group.
When they were out in the street, and had started on their homeward walk, Simnel said to his companion:
"That was strange news we've just heard."
"Strange, indeed," replied Beresford. "Do you think the doctor's right?"
"Not a doubt of it; he's a garrulous109 idiot; as full of talk as an old woman; but I have always heard very skilful110 in his profession, and in this special disease I believe there are none to beat him. Oh, yes, he's right enough. Well, you always held winning cards, and now the game looks like yours."
"Simnel," said Beresford, stopping short and looking up into his face, "what the devil do you mean?"
"Mean!" echoed Simnel; "I'll tell you when you come on; it's cold stopping still in the streets, and the policeman at the corner is staring at you in unmitigated wonder. Mean!" he repeated, as they walked on; "well, it's not a very difficult matter to explain. You hear that Schr?der has heart-disease--that at any moment he may die. You always had a partiality for Mrs. Schr?der, I believe; and if there be any truth in what I gather from yourself and others, you stand very well with her."
"Well?"
"Well! You're dense111 to-night, Master Charley. Well? Why, you've as great a chance as man ever had before you. You've only to wait until what Prater told us of happens,--and if he's right, it won't be long,--and then marry the widow and start as a millionaire."
"By Jove, it is a great chance!" said Beresford, looking at his friend.
"And yet you didn't see it until just now. Why, it opened straight up in front of me the instant that chattering112 medico mentioned the fact. If you play your cards well, you're all right; but remember, flirtation113 and courtship are two different things, and must be managed differently. And recollect114 it's for the latter you're now going in. Now, here's my street, so adieu. Sleep on this matter, and we'll talk of it to-morrow morning."
"It's a tremendous fluke," said Mr. Simnel, as he leisurely115 undressed himself; "but it will serve my purpose admirably. That eight hundred pounds of mine lent to Master Charley looks much less shaky than it did, and what a trump-card to play with Kate!"
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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corporate
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| adj.共同的，全体的；公司的，企业的 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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stockbroker
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ornament
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battered
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enchanted
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pathos
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immediate
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dinginess
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apparition
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awe
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withering
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glean
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countenances
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anecdotes
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rumoured
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conversing
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swell
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swells
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musing
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smuggle
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ballot
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tact
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esteemed
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nomination
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commissioner
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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33
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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34
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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35
affiliated
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| adj. 附属的, 有关连的 | |
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36
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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37
abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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38
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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39
peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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40
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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41
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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42
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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43
insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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44
comedian
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| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
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45
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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46
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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47
perking
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| （使）活跃( perk的现在分词 )； （使）增值； 使更有趣 | |
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48
jawing
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| n.用水灌注 | |
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49
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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50
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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51
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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52
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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53
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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54
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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55
prater
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| 多嘴的人，空谈者 | |
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56
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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57
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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60
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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61
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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62
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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63
juxtaposition
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| n.毗邻，并置，并列 | |
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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65
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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67
blandness
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| n.温柔，爽快 | |
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68
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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69
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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70
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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71
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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72
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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73
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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74
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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75
buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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76
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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77
reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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78
ailments
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| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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80
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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81
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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82
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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83
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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84
bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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85
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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86
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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88
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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89
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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90
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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91
balked
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| v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的过去式和过去分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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92
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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93
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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94
parvenu
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| n.暴发户，新贵 | |
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95
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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96
smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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98
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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99
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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100
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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101
disparagement
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| n.轻视，轻蔑 | |
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102
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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103
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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104
digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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105
ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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106
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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107
quacks
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| abbr.quacksalvers 庸医，骗子(16世纪习惯用水银或汞治疗梅毒的人)n.江湖医生( quack的名词复数 )；江湖郎中；（鸭子的）呱呱声v.（鸭子）发出嘎嘎声( quack的第三人称单数 ) | |
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108
charlatans
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| n.冒充内行者，骗子( charlatan的名词复数 ) | |
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109
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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110
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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111
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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112
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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113
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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114
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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115
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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