Pippa Passes.
On the day after Denis left the Bellevue, Dorothea also departed, with her mountain of trunks. She did not see Gardiner again. Louisa paid the bill. The feelings of the rejected lover, who had to make up the account and take the money, deserve mention as being probably unique.
On the second morning after this, Lettice received a letter from her cousin, inclosing a cheque for ￡20 and an entreaty2 that she would stay on at the Bellevue. "Send it back, my dear girl, if you don't feel like taking it," Denis wrote, "or call it a loan: I'd much rather you didn't, but I shan't feel hurt if you do. Only remember I don't need the money, and I'd rather spend it this way than any other. I hate to see you looking seedy, and you're not anything like fit yet, you know. Besides, I'd like you and Gardiner to get to know each other. You never would, so long as I was there in the way." A remark which showed that Denis was no fool. Lettice, who had been looking forward to an unpeaceful time in the bosom3 of her family, accepted the loan with simple gratitude4, and stayed. It was easy to take favors from Denis: could higher testimonial be given?
* * * * * * * * *
Bredon was a seaside place without a single villa5; just half-a-dozen old cottages and a new church, standing6 on the verge7 of the chalk cliffs of Thanet. This church was a building of surprising ugliness, red brick outside, decorated[Pg 84] inside with stenciled8 texts chopped up like pieces of a jigsaw9 puzzle. The east window had paper transparencies, leaded and colored to imitate glass. The holy table was a table, with obvious legs, having the Ten Commandments above and a Bible upon it—none of your papistical altars. The vicar was a robust10 Evangelical with a mustache. Denis did not like him very much, but he approved of his doctrine11, and attended his church.
Picture him, then, on his first Sunday at home, coming out into the churchyard among that humble12 congregation (vicar's wife, vicar's man, school children, candidate for coals, village policeman in uniform, one girl—
"And what took her there, do you guess?
And her new second-hand14 silk dress")
and setting forth15 on his three-mile tramp across the marshes16. Denis would neither cycle, motor, nor fly upon a Sunday. This was the more inconvenient17 because, if Bredon was out of the world, Dandelion Farm, the present home of the Smith aeroplane, might be said to be howling in the wilderness18.
It was still early in September, and after a rainy night the sky was blue again, the air crystal-pure over the flat green land. The road had neither fence nor hedgerow, but on either side a dark blue ribbon of water lay brimming and crumpling19 in the sea wind. Other such dikes, intersecting, ruled out the square fields of Thanet, where red cattle, like wooden beasts out of a Noah's Ark, grazed on pastures coarsely green. There was no sign of autumn but in the sedge, withered20 putty-color, and rustling21 a dry, pleasant song. In spring the yellow iris22 fringed the waterways; later, forget-me-not, loosestrife, meadow-sweet; now only the tall mud-clotted stems of the willow-herb, and its pink stars seeding in silvery down. Denis walked on, content. He did not consciously think about his surroundings, but unconsciously he was happier here than among the hills and woods of Arden. Thanet was English, and he was[Pg 85] English—well, he was Irish; but he had all the Englishman's conservatism and love for the ways of home, what foreigners call his insularity23.
Straight ahead at the end of the track rose a delicately penciled group of trees, with a gray roof showing beside, and white dots of sheep on the gray-green of their pasture. This was Dandelion, videlicet Dent-de-lion. Till a few months since, the partners had rented a bungalow24 on the sands near Bredon; but there Denis had been so pestered25 with interviewers, autograph hunters, and less estimable gentry26 who came to pick his brains, that after some debate they had transferred themselves to this lodge27 in the wilderness. Part of the ground that went with the house was to be flooded, for the use of seaplanes; while there was ample space in addition for an aerodrome and for workshops, hangars, etc., which could be shut off behind a palisading, and defy curiosity.
These new erections were frankly28 ugly, but there was a certain dignity about the square gray Georgian farm-house and its outbuildings. Denis passed a barn, its thatched roof cushioned with mosses29, then a haystack, exhaling30 its warm sweet scent31, then the stone gate-posts of the entrance. The gate was open, and he paused to latch32 it; gates left to swing shake off their hinges. He walked round the curve of the drive, his mind agreeably occupied with thoughts of cold beef, came in sight of the pillared portico—thrice horrid33 sight! there was a car standing at the door!
It was not his partner's, for the letter was P, not LD; nor was the car itself much like the battered34 and beloved old racer which Wandesforde liked to use. This was a Rolls-Royce touring car of the present year's model. No chauffeur35 was in charge. After prowling round to satisfy the curiosity which any piece of machinery36 roused in his engineer's brain, Denis went into the house to make inquiries37. The porch opened into a passage with rooms on either side. Denis was tiptoeing towards the kitchen, where he hoped to find his man, when the door on the left opened suddenly, revealing the visitor—Dorothea O'Connor.
[Pg 86]
"So here you are at last!" she said. "I am so glad! I've been stuck here ever since eleven!"
Denis did not echo her joy. "I thought you were at Rochehaut!"
"Me? No, wasn't it funny? I had to leave, in a hurry, the very day after you did. I came off down here first thing this morning. It's a glorious run through Kent—the car did travel!"
"Your chauffeur, I suppose, is in with my man?"
"Isn't. I didn't bring one," she airily explained. "I didn't bring anybody. I hate being driven, I like to do things for myself. I've come to see the aeroplanes, you know. I told you I should!"
She stuck her hands in her pockets and propped38 her slim shoulders against the wall, looking up with a naughty and audacious tilt39 of the chin. "Here I am and you can't get rid of me!" she seemed to say.
Denis did not want her in the least. It was two o'clock, and humanity constrained40 him to ask her to lunch; there was not an inn for miles where she could get a meal, if he didn't, and she must actually have seen his cold beef on the table. But Denis was an Irishman, with strict ideas of propriety41. Dorothea, not for the first time, had forgotten her part; while posing as a young girl, she claimed the freedom of a married woman. Reading her mistake in his face, she was quick to seize the bull by the horns.
"I suppose I've no business here, and I know you don't want me, but I'm not going back now till I've seen everything!" she announced; and then, melting into the wheedling42, insinuating43 smile of a child: "You can look on me as a man and a brother, or you can count me as business—I am—I don't care what you do, only do forgive me, and do, do, do ask me to lunch, for I'm so hungry!"
Denis smiled too, though stiffly, making the best of it. "I shall be very pleased to show you the place, Miss O'Connor, but it's a pity you've come to-day, for you'll not see any flyin'. The men are all home, you know."
[Pg 87]
"Why, I came on purpose because I thought Sunday was the day!"
"It isn't with us."
Dorothea was subdued44. She did not ask why, but meekly45 re?ntered the room. The partners had divided the house between them, and this was Denis's den1, corresponding to Wandesforde's across the passage. Wandesforde, though he lived in town and was only a casual visitor at Dent-de-lion, had made himself extremely comfortable; Denis had brought his old furniture from Bredon and dumped it in the room, just as it was. There were two sash windows, filled with small panes46. Under one stood a table as big as a four-poster, covered with papers. Denis could lay his hand on any packet in the dark; but when papers are in order, unfortunately it does not follow that they are tidy. In the middle of the floor stood a second table, just large enough to take Denis's plate and the cold beef. Beside the fireplace, which had a marbled wooden mantelpiece, stood a pair of leathern arm-chairs, once plum-colored, now seamed with white cracks, and with every spring broken. The walls were covered with drab paper, fading to yellow, there was a square of drab drugget on the floor, and the ceiling was drab also, from ancient lamp smoke. Dorothea thought in passing that it was the ugliest room she had ever been in, but she, like Denis, was highly indifferent to her surroundings.
But she was by no means indifferent to her host; she thought him the handsomest man she had ever seen, an opinion held by other young ladies before her, though Denis's looks were not at all in the style of the barber's block. He was just under six feet in height, lightly built and light in movement, all bone and sinew. His face was thin too, a little pinched at the temples, a little hollow in the cheeks, with dark brows, dark hair, and a white skin which burnt biscuit-brown, not red. Irish coloring and deep-set, dark blue Irish eyes, "put in with a dirty finger" under their long soft lashes47. The lower part of the face, nose and lips and chin, was most delicately modeled, fine,[Pg 88] high-bred, rather ascetic48 in type. In short, he was as handsome as a paladin, à fendre le c?ur, and so purely49 indifferent to the fact, one way or the other, that Lettice when she poked50 her soft fun at him got no more than an absent-minded smile. No rises were to be had in that quarter. But Dorothea was not given to poking51 fun at people; she planted her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, adoring his looks, hanging breathless on his words, divided in admiration52 between his person and his profession—and how those great eyes of hers could lighten and glow! They were not the same eyes, she was not the same girl who had poured out her lightnings on Harry53 Gardiner.
In telling her tale to Lettice, Dorothea had said less than the truth. For one thing, she was ashamed to own that she had been physically54 afraid of her uncle. The anger of a stupid and wrong-headed man may be a very brutal55 thing. When he threatened to knock her down, Dorothea gave in, in helpless rage and humiliation56, bad companions for a high-spirited girl. Also she suffered more than she herself realized from her isolation57. Dorothea was the born devotee; she would never have learned to hate if she had had any one to adore. But she was quite alone. The neighborhood was up in arms, no doubt, but nobody was anxious to stand forth as her champion: partly because people are always loath58 to interfere59 in a neighbor's business, partly because the unlucky little heiress had been painted by her loving relatives in such very lurid60 colors that some of the paint had stuck.
Then came Major Trent to stay at the Anglers' Rest. He met Dorothea one morning when she had been sent out to exercise her aunt's Chow. The amiable61 Xit tried to bite the stranger, and did bite Dorothea when she hauled him off. Naturally Trent expressed his concern. Naturally Dorothea did not mention the incident at home. They met again next day, of course by chance, in the same place—in fine, Dorothea had found her champion. The affair was rushed through in a month. Mrs. O'Connor woke up one morning to miss her early cup of tea. She descended62 in a[Pg 89] dressing-gown to scold Dorothea, but no Dorothea was to be found. She had gone, without leaving so much as the traditional note on her pin-cushion. Next day came the announcement of her marriage, by special license63, to Major Trent, D.S.O.
Dorothea when she married was innocent and ignorant as a child. She came to Trent with eager fresh gratitude and affection. She spent eight months with him; eight feverish64, hothouse-forcing months of premature65 emotion. Towards the end of the time, when his passion had cooled, and when she herself was calmed and steadied by the hope of motherhood, she began to look at her battered knight66 with wondering eyes, which would soon have grown critical. His tragic67 death, however, made criticism disloyal, and invested Trent with all his former glories. It swept away, too, the hope to which the girl had been looking forward with grave, ennobling joy. Only Louisa knew how frantically69 Dorothea grieved for her baby. Her long illness was really an obstinate70 refusal to be comforted. Louisa, it may be noted71, had not been Dorothea's devoted72 nurse. She had been Mr. O'Connor's incomparable cook; and the unkindest blow his niece dealt was that she carried off, when she went, the only perfect maker73 of soufflés he had ever known.
Here was Dorothea, then, at twenty-one, half a child and half a woman, frantic68 with grief, and convinced that the murderer of her husband and child was going free unpunished. She vowed74 herself to vengeance75 as a sacred duty. She was unpersuadably sure that all she had done to Gardiner was justifiable76. But Denis was different. True, he had screened the murderer, but Dorothea couldn't but own that in his shoes she would have done the same. She was not quite happy in her mind; but she crushed the scruple77, telling herself that when justice is done the innocent must suffer with the guilty. She crushed it, and presently she forgot it, yes, and her vengeance into the bargain, when they went out to see the works. Aeroplanes are so exciting! After all, Dorothea was not much more than a baby, and she had long arrears78 of play to make up.
[Pg 90]
In old days, Denis and his man Simpson had built the machines with their own hands; later, at Bredon, they employed half-a-dozen men; now there were twenty, and the number was growing. Behind the tall palisade a nest of sheds was springing up—wood and metal working shops, rigging rooms, offices, stores, Simpson's cabin where he slept as night watchman, and finally the hangars. Great ugly erections of brickwork and corrugated79 iron, with gable ends and sliding doors, they caught the eye at once. The first held an unfinished seaplane, marked for rebuilding after undergoing her trials; a biplane built in 1911, now hopelessly out of date; and a Blériot monoplane belonging to Wandesforde which Denis hated, and which, he gravely assured his companion, would kill him if he gave it the chance. But he hurried Dorothea past these to the smaller shed, which contained only one machine: his favorite, his beloved, the 80 h.p. monoplane scout80 which had been entered for the Birmingham race.
She was very small, scarcely larger than Santos-Dumont's famous "Demoiselle." There was a slender bird-like body, the fuselage, in which the pilot sat, deep-sunk, with passenger behind, engine and propeller81 in front, the two long blades standing out like antenn?. Pale wings arched and tilted82 upwards83 on either side, curving like the wings of a gull84 in flight. The whole stood on a light framework, the chassis85 or under-carriage, corresponding to the feet of a bird. Dorothea listened, while Denis explained the perfections of his handiwork. Tangential86, lift coefficient, angle of incidence, such terms went in at one ear and out at the other; she was not interested in scientific aeronautics87. Denis was expounding88 the principles of stream-line design, as shown in the curves of his fuselage, when she interrupted.
"Mr. Merion-Smith, will you teach me to fly?"
"Will I teach you to fly?"
"Yes. You said I could learn. I want to learn."
He shook his head, smiling. "You should go to Hendon or Brooklands. We don't run a flying school, you know."
"I don't want to go to Hendon or Brooklands, I want to[Pg 91] go to you," retorted Dorothea flatly. "I want you to build me a machine like this one, and I want you to teach me to manage it. Will you?"
"I'm afraid that's out of the question."
"Why?"
If Denis had told the bare truth, he must have answered, Because I don't want to. As that was unsayable, he hedged.
"Well, for one thing, I've no plane you could learn on. You need a special school machine, with duplicate control for pilot and pupil—we've nothing of the sort."
"If that's all, I'll buy one."
"Buy a machine that'll be no earthly use to you six months hence?"
"Why not? Why shouldn't I throw my money away if I want to? It's good for trade, and it can't possibly matter to you!"
Denis looked as though it mattered a good deal. Geraldine, who had followed them from the house like a dog, seized this moment to make a scrambling89 leap on his shoulder. He steadied her with one hand mechanically as she walked to and fro, pushing now her nose and now her tail into his face, after the inconsiderate manner of a happy cat, but obviously she was too much a matter of course to interrupt his thoughts. All he said was: "I should wait till I was older, if I were you."
"Pooh! I'm as old as that boy who was killed at Eastchurch last week, and he'd had his ticket for two years."
"Quite possibly, but then you see he is dead."
"Ah, you say that because you think I'm reckless, but that's only with money. I shouldn't be reckless flying, I should love my plane far too much." She rubbed her cheek softly against the varnished90 fabric91 of the wing.
"No, it doesn't. I am careful. I've driven my car about town for two years now, and never had a summons or an accident."
Denis looked at her with more respect, but he continued to shake his head. "Go to Hendon and get your ticket,[Pg 92] and then come back to me, and I'll build you a machine with pleasure."
"I won't. I'll learn of you, or not at all."
"Then I'm afraid it will have to be not at all."
"Oh, you are hateful," said Dorothea succinctly93. She turned her back on him and marched towards the door. Half-way there she thought better of it, and came back to lay her clasped hands on his arm, frankly imploring94. "Oh, do teach me!" she besought95. "Do. Do. You don't know how much I want it! Why won't you? Is it because I'm not a man?"
Denis was driven a step nearer the truth. "I've really not the time. I'm a designer, not an instructor96; it would not be fair to my partner to undertake outside work."
"Ah, but I shouldn't take long to learn. I'm good with machinery. Besides, if you won't teach me I won't buy one of your machines, and that'll be worse for your partner than just the few hours you'd have to give up—two, wasn't it, that man learned in the other day? Won't you at least ask Mr. Wandesforde if he'd mind? Please, please say yes!"
Denis was wishing her at Jericho. He delighted in a battle, but he had no armor against coaxing97. He did not in the least want to teach Miss O'Connor, or any one else, to fly. He had a full winter's work before him on the seaplane, and he hated (like Lettice) to be dragged out of his rut. Finally, Dorothea was a woman; and women are an endless bother. Seeing a chance of evading98 her, he jumped at it.
"Well, I'll ask Wandesforde if you like," he conceded.
Dorothea took her hands off his arm with a nod of satisfaction. "I thought I'd get you to do it," she said. "I always know what I want and I generally get it. It's only a question of wanting it hard enough. I'll go now, and leave you in peace. You'll write to him at once, won't you?"
Oh yes, Denis would write at once. He was already concocting99 the letter as he locked up the sheds. "I've had[Pg 93] a nuisance of a woman here pretending she wants to order a machine on condition that one of us teaches her to fly. Quite young, and I should say quite irresponsible. I told her, of course, that we didn't run a school, but I wouldn't absolutely refuse without consulting you."
He had got as far as this when Dorothea broke in. She was looking rather solemn.
"I forgot to say one thing. Do you mind, if you're writing to Mr. Gardiner, not telling him anything about me? Or Lettice either," she added.
"Certainly, if you wish it," said Denis after a moment.
"I do wish it."
They walked on in silence. At the steps Dorothea paused for a last word.
"I've had a quarrel with him. A bad quarrel. I don't want him to know I'm here, because if he does he'll think it his duty to write and warn you against me."
This was the truth, and, as truth often does, it conveyed a false impression.
"Gardiner?" said Denis, incredulous. "He would never do that."
"He would, he would, you don't know. He might not to any one else, but he would to you."
This was true again, and again misleading. Denis was puzzled. "I thought you and he were—friends," he said.
"Not now. He hates me."
"Gardiner hates you?"
"Yes. Thinks me wicked. Wouldn't willingly be under the same roof. He does, he does. And we can never make it up. I'm angry with Lettice too, at present, but I shall make it up with her, because I love her. But not with Mr. Gardiner—never, never."
"Well, if you say so," said Denis, "but I thought—"
Dorothea looked up with a flash of understanding. No need to put into words what he had thought about her and Gardiner.
"That?" she said. "Oh no—never, never, never!"
This time Denis believed her.
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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stenciled
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| v.用模板印（文字或图案）( stencil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jigsaw
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| n.缕花锯，竖锯，拼图游戏；vt.用竖锯锯，使互相交错搭接 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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crumpling
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| 压皱，弄皱( crumple的现在分词 )； 变皱 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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iris
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| n.虹膜，彩虹 | |
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insularity
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| n.心胸狭窄；孤立；偏狭；岛国根性 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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pestered
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| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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exhaling
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的现在分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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wheedling
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的现在分词 ) | |
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insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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50
poked
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| 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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51
poking
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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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52
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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53
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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54
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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55
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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56
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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58
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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59
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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62
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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75
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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78
arrears
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| n.到期未付之债，拖欠的款项；待做的工作 | |
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corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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80
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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propeller
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
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82
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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83
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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84
gull
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| n.鸥；受骗的人；v.欺诈 | |
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85
chassis
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| n.汽车等之底盘；（飞机的）起落架；炮底架 | |
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tangential
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| adj.离题的，切线的 | |
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87
aeronautics
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| n.航空术，航空学 | |
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expounding
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的现在分词 ) | |
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89
scrambling
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| 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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90
varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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91
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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92
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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93
succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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94
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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95
besought
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| 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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96
instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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97
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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98
evading
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| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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99
concocting
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的现在分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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