"Yes; isn't it?" said Polly Wickes. "But, come along; you haven't seen it all yet."
"Is there more?" Howard Locke asked with pretended incredulity. "I've seen a private power plant; an aquarium2 that contains more varieties of fish than I ever imagined swam in the sea; a house as magnificent and spacious3 as a palace; stables; gardens; flowers; bowers4 of Eden. More! Really?"
"I think guardy was right," observed Polly Wickes na?vely.
"Yes?" inquired Howard Locke.
"He said you weren't a ladies' man."
"Oh!" said Howard Locke with a grin. "So he's been talking behind my back, has he?"
"I'm afraid so," she admitted.
"Because," said Polly Wickes, "it would have been ever so much nicer, instead of saying what you did, to have expressed delight that the tour of inspection7 wasn't over—something about charming company, you know, even if everything you saw bored you to death."
"Unfair!" Locke frowned with mock severity. "Most unfair! I was going to say something like that, and now I can't because you'll swear you put the words into my mouth and I simply parroted them."
"Come on, then!" she cried, and, turning, began to run along the path through the grove12 of trees where they had been walking.
Locke followed. She ran like a young fawn13! He stumbled once awkwardly—and she turned and laughed at him. He felt the colour mount into his cheeks—felt a tinge14 of chagrin15. Was she vamping him; did she know that if his eyes had been occupied with where he was going, and not with her, he would not have stumbled? Or was she just a little sprite of nature, full to overflowing16 with life, buoyant, and the more glorious for an unconscious expression of the joy of living? Amazing, he had called what he had seen on this island since he had been installed here as a guest that morning, but most amazing of all was Newcombe's ward1. Newcombe's ward! It was rather strange! Who was she? How had a girl like this come to be Captain Newcombe's ward? Newcombe had not been communicative save only on the point that since she had gone to America to school Newcombe had not see her. Rather strange, that, too! He was conscious that she piqued17 him one moment, while the next found him possessed18 of a mad desire to touch, for instance, those truant19 wisps of hair that now, as she stood waiting for him on the edge of the shore, a little out of breath, the colour glowing in her cheeks, she retrieved20 with deft21 little movements of her fingers.
Her colour deepened suddenly.
"That's the boathouse over there," she said.
"I—I beg your pardon," said Locke in confusion. And then deliberately22: "No; I don't!"
Polly Wickes stared. Again the colour in her cheeks came and went swiftly.
"Oh!" she gasped23; then hurriedly: "Well, perhaps, that is better! Don't you think those two little bridges from the rocks up to the boathouse are awfully24 pretty?"
"Awfully!" laughed Locke.
"Yes, I am," asserted Locke. "And just to prove it, I was going to ask why that amazing structure—you see, I said amazing again—that looks more like the home of a yacht club than a private boathouse, is built out into the water like that, and requires those bridges at all? Is it on account of the tide? I see there's no beach here."
"I'm sure I don't know," said Polly Wickes. "But they are pretty, aren't they?—and the place does look like a clubhouse. And it looks more like one inside—there's a lovely little lounging room with an open fireplace, and I can't begin to tell you what else. Shall we go in?"
"Yes, rather!" said Locke.
He was studying the place now with a yachtsman's eye. It was built out from the rocky shore a considerable distance, and rested on an outer series of small concrete piers28, placed a few feet apart; while, by stooping down, he could see, beneath the overhang of the verandah, a massive centre pier27, wide and long, obviously the main foundation of the building. At the two corners facing the shore were the little bridges, built in shape like a curving ramp29 and ornamented30 with rustic31 railings, that she had referred to. These led from a point well above high water mark on the shore to the verandah of the boathouse itself.
"Mr. Marlin must be an enthusiast," he said, as he followed his guide across one of the bridges.
Polly Wickes did not answer at once, and they began to make the circuit of the verandah.
Howard Locke glanced at her. Her face had become suddenly sobered, the dark eyes somehow deeper, a sensitive quiver now around the corners of her lips. His glance lengthened32 into an unconscious stare. She could be serious then—and, yes, equally attractive in that mood. It became her. He wondered if she knew it became her? That was cynical33 on his part. Was he trying to arm himself with cynicism? Well, it was easily pierced then, that armour34! It was a very wonderful face; not merely beautiful, but fine in the sense of steadfastness36, self-reliance and sincerity37. He was a poor cynic! Why not admit that she attracted him as no woman had ever attracted him before?
They had reached the seaward side of the verandah. Here a short dock was built out to meet a sort of sea-wall that gave protection to any craft that might be berthed38 there—but the slip was empty of boats.
She looked up at him now, as she answered his observation.
"He was," she said slowly; "but all the boats are stowed away inside now. Poor Mr. Marlin!" She turned away abruptly39, her eyes suddenly moist. "Let's go inside."
They found a cosy40 corner in the little lounging room of which she had spoken, and seated themselves.
Locke picked up the thread of their conversation.
"You're very fond of him, aren't you, Miss Wickes?" he said gently.
"Yes," she said simply.
"It's a very strange case," said Howard Locke.
"And a very, very sad one," said Polly Wickes. "I don't know how much Dora—Miss Marlin—has said to you, or perhaps even Mr. Marlin himself, for he is sometimes just like—like anybody else, so I don't—"
"I hardly think it could be a case of trespassing41 on confidences in any event," Locke interrupted quietly. "It's rather well known outside; that is, in what might be called the financial world, you know. What I can't understand, though, is that, having lost all his money, a place like this could still be kept up."
Polly Wickes shook her head thoughtfully.
"Guardy was speaking about the same thing," she said; "but I don't think it costs so very much now. You see, it is almost in a way self-supporting—the vegetables, and fruit, and fuel and all that. And the servants all have their little homes, and have lived on the island for years, and the wages are not very high, and anyway Dora has a fortune in her own name—from her mother, you know; and, besides, thank goodness, dear old Mr. Marlin hasn't lost all his money anyway."
"Not lost it?" ejaculated Locke. "Why, that was the cause of his mind breaking!"
Polly Wickes looked up in confusion.
"Oh, perhaps, I shouldn't have said that," she said nervously42. "But—but, after all, I don't see why I shouldn't, for you could not help but know about it before very long. Indeed, I shouldn't be a bit surprised if Mr. Marlin showed it to you himself, just as he did to me, for he seems to have taken a great fancy to you. He hardly let you out of his sight this morning."
"He knows of my father in a business way," said Locke. "I suppose that's it. Do you mean that he showed you a sum of money here on this island?"
"Yes," said Polly Wickes slowly, "after I had been here a little while; a very large sum—half a million, he said."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Locke. "That's hardly safe, is it? I know the peculiar43 form his disease has taken is an antipathy44 to all investments, but can't Miss Marlin persuade him to deposit it somewhere?"
"That's exactly what guardy said," nodded Polly Wickes. "But it's quite useless. Dora has tried, but her father won't even tell her where he keeps it."
Howard Locke rose from his chair, walked over to the empty fireplace, and, standing45 with his back to Polly Wickes, opened his cigarette case.
"Of course," said Polly Wickes ingenuously47. "I naturally wrote him all about it."
"Naturally!" agreed Howard Locke.
He stooped over, and, striking a match on the edge of the fireplace, lighted his cigarette. So Captain Francis Newcombe had known all about it, had he, even before he had left England? And yet Captain Francis Newcombe in the smoking room of the liner on the way across had been densely48 in ignorance, and even alarmed for his ward's safety at the first intimation that her host was a monomaniac! It was rather peculiar! More than peculiar!
Locke turned, and, leaning against the mantel over the fireplace, faced Polly Wickes. His mind was working swiftly, piecing together strange and apparently49 irrelevant50 fragments, that, irrelevant as they appeared, seemed to make a most suggestive whole. Captain Newcombe had lied that night on board the liner. Why? Who was it that had invaded his, Locke's stateroom and had searched through his belongings51? And why? Why was it that now for the first time in four years Captain Newcombe should have come to visit his ward in America? He had more than Newcombe's word for that—Polly here had said so herself; and Miss Marlin had referred to it in the most natural way when welcoming Newcombe that morning. What had an insane old man, who hid away a half-million dollars on a little island in the Florida Keys, got to do with the letter received in London and containing those facts that Polly Wickes had just admitted she had written? What did it mean? Was a certain, insistent53 deduction54 to be carried to a logical conclusion, or was he hunting a mare's nest in his mind? Was it a mere35 coincidence in life, where far stranger coincidences were daily happenings—or was it a half-million dollars? And Polly Wickes, here? Captain Francis Newcombe—and his ward! Was it a bird of paradise in cahoots with a vulture? No, he wouldn't believe that! It was preposterous55! There weren't any grounds for it anyway. He was an irresponsible fool. He became angry with himself. He was worse than a fool—he was a cad! The girl's very ingenuousness56 in what she had said put to rout57 any possibility of connivance58. But, damn it—Captain Newcombe's ward! How? What was the explanation of that? And if—
Locke straightened up with a start. In his fit of abstraction he had been gazing at the girl with abominable60 rudeness.
"I forgot to say," said Polly Wickes severely, "that besides saying you were not a ladies' man, guardy said something else about you."
"No! Surely not!" Locke forced a mock dismay into his voice. "What was it?"
Polly Wickes took a critical survey of the toe of her spotless white shoe.
"He said he didn't know whether I would like you or not."
Locke took a step forward from the fireplace.
"And do you?" he demanded.
"I do not," she said promptly61; "at least not when I am utterly62 ignored for a whole five minutes, except to be stared at as though I were a specimen63 under a microscope."
"I'm awfully sorry," said Locke contritely64; "really I am. I was thinking of what we had been saying about Mr. Marlin, and—"
She suddenly lifted a warning finger.
"There he is now," she said in a low voice.
Locke turned around. His back had been to the door, leading to the seaward side of the verandah, which they had left open behind them. Mr. Marlin was peering cautiously around the jamb of the door—and now, as the blue eyes under the silvered hair, which was rumpled65 and astray, caught his, Locke's, the old man thrust a beckoning66 finger into view.
Locke glanced at Polly Wickes.
"I think," she said in a whisper, "that he has been acting67 more strangely just of late than ever before. He wants you for something. Of course, you must go and see what it is."
"All right," said Locke.
He walked quietly across the room, and out on to the verandah.
"You wanted to speak to me, Mr. Marlin?" he said pleasantly.
It was a queer, strangely contradictory68 figure, that of the little, stoop-shouldered, old man, who now seized his arm in feverish69 haste and led him hurriedly away from the door. And quite a different figure from the Mr. Marlin of the morning! The white clothes were spruce and immaculate, but he wore no hat, and, as Locke had already noted70, his hair was dishevelled. The thin, almost gaunt face, a rather fine old face, had lost the calm and composure that had marked it, for instance, a few hours ago at lunch, and there was now a furtive71, hunted look in the eyes, a spasmodic twitching72 of the facial muscles, a sort of pathetic tearing aside of the veil that had so jealously striven to hide the man's affliction; and yet too, and perhaps even more pathetic in this particular, there seemed to cling intangibly about the old financier a certain dignity of manner and bearing—the one heritage possibly of the days when he had been a power, his name a talisman73 in the money markets of the world.
"I don't want her to hear," said Mr. Marlin mysteriously. "I can't trust her, Locke."
"Can't trust her!" repeated Locke. "You can't trust Miss Wickes? Why, surely, Mr. Marlin, you are making a mistake. Why can't you trust her?"
"Because," said the old man sharply, "she is the ward of Captain Newcombe."
Locke stared into the other's face. A half angry, half—yes, that was it—cunning gleam had come into the blue eyes.
"What is the matter with Captain Newcombe?" he asked bluntly.
"He's a philanthropist," snapped Mr. Marlin. "A philanthropist! And all philanthropists are fools—with money."
"Oh!" said Locke a little helplessly. "So that's it, is it? Yes, of course! But I did not know Captain Newcombe was a philanthropist."
"What else is he?" demanded Mr. Marlin fiercely. "Polly Wickes herself proves it. Do you know who Polly Wickes is? No; you don't! I'll tell you! I heard her tell Dora. She was a poor girl—sold flowers on the street corners in London. Newcombe spends his money like water on her—education—clothes—thousands. He is a philanthropist, that is enough!"
"Good Lord!" muttered Locke to himself. The man hadn't been anything like this during the several hours that, off and on, he had been in the other's company that morning. The man had seemed almost, if not wholly, rational then. It was one of the idiosyncratic phases of the disease, of course. There was nothing to do but humour him. Captain Francis Newcombe a philanthropist! Five minutes ago he had come to quite another conclusion!
"Yes; I see," he said seriously. They had walked around the corner of the verandah, and now halfway74 down the side he halted. "But there was something you wanted to speak to me about, Mr. Marlin, wasn't there?"
"Yes," said the old man eagerly. He looked cautiously around him in all directions. "I put great faith in you as your father's son. I have never met your father; but I know of him. I know a great deal about him. He is a power. You must influence him. The world is facing a crisis, but we may yet save it from ruin. I must have a conference with you where no one can hear or see. No one must see—do you understand? That is most important. Some people think I am a little touched in the head; but they are the fools. I shall show you, my boy, for I shall have with me the proof that I am in earnest, and the evidence that I practise what I preach. You shall see for yourself who is the fool. To-morrow night"—he fumbled75 in the pocket of his coat, and drew out a little book—"what day is to-day, and what is the date? Yes, yes, of course; this is Tuesday, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Locke gravely; "to-day is Tuesday."
"Tuesday, the twenty-fifth," mumbled76 the old man, as he consulted the book. "Yes, yes!" He returned the book to his pocket. "Very well, then, to-morrow night. Meet me in the aquarium to-morrow night at a quarter past two."
Locke, for the sake of nonchalance77, carefully selected another cigarette from his case and lighted it. A quarter past two to-morrow night! If it were not pitiable, it would be absurd that the old man should have come down here in this manner to the boathouse to make an appointment for to-morrow night, when in the natural course of events he would have been afforded an endless number of infinitely78 more convenient opportunities to make the same request! And why to-morrow night, other than to-night, or this afternoon, or even now? And why at such an hour? It was useless to ask the question for it found its answer simply in the workings of a poor, unhinged mind—and yet Locke found himself asking the question mechanically.
"That's a rather unusual hour, isn't it, Mr. Marlin? And why to-morrow night? Why not to-night, for instance?"
The old man came close, and gripped Locke's arm again with feverish intensity79. He looked all around him, then placed his lips to Locke's ear.
"I'll tell you why," he whispered. "Since last night I have been watched and followed—watched and followed all the time, all the time, all the time. They think I am mad, that my reason is gone. Ha, ha, can you imagine that, young man? Well, they will see! And so it cannot be to-night, for I must be very careful, and I must have time to prepare. And the hour? You do not understand that? Well, I will tell you something else. The hour is fixed80; it cannot be altered; it cannot be changed. It is fixed." He gripped suddenly with a fiercer pressure on Locke's arm. "Ha! Did I not tell you I was always being watched and followed?" he breathed excitedly. "Listen! Listen! There is some one coming now!"
The old man was trembling violently. Locke laid his hand reassuringly81 upon the other's shoulder. It was quite true that there was distinctly the sound of some one's footsteps coming across one of the little bridges from the shore, the one on the far side of the boathouse from where they stood obviously, for the one on this side was in plain view.
"Why, Mr. Marlin," Locke smiled, "it's only some one coming to the boathouse. That's quite natural. There's nothing to cause you alarm in that. But just to set your mind at rest we'll go and see who it is."
"No, no!" whispered Mr. Marlin fiercely. "No one must know that I suspect anything. I can elude82 them—they're around on the other side now. You stay here. Don't move! I'm going now. But remember! To-morrow night! You will remember?"
"Yes; of course, Mr. Marlin," Locke replied soothingly83.
The old man laid his finger to his lips.
"And not a word about it! No one must know! Keep silent! You will see! You will see! But I must be quick now! I will elude them. Keep silent—not a word!"
The old man was running at top speed along the verandah.
Locke leaned against the railing, his face strangely set, as he watched the flying figure cross the bridge, and, with head constantly jerking around to peer first over one shoulder and then the other, disappear finally along the shore.
"Good Lord!" muttered Locke to himself again. "And this morning he appeared to be as sane52 as I am!" He frowned suddenly. "Queer obsession84, that—of being constantly watched! Since last night! I wonder!"
He straightened up abruptly, and drew a letter from his pocket. He read it slowly, carefully, several times, as though almost he were memorising it; and then he began to tear it into little pieces.
"I guess it's safer," he confided85 to himself; and then with a grim smile: "Perhaps it's just as well I didn't have anything like this with me that night on board ship!"
He threw the pieces over into the water, but one fluttered back through the railing. And, staring at this, he laughed a little shortly as his eyes deciphered the typewritten fragment on the verandah floor:
ll reports approved. Use
He picked it up, tore it into minute shreds86, searched carefully to make sure there were no other wayward scraps87, and then started slowly back along the verandah to rejoin Polly Wickes.
His mind seemed in confusion, coherence88 smothered89 in a multitude of thoughts that impinged one upon the other, each vociferating its right to sole consideration. There was Newcombe and that smoking room scene on the liner, and a letter advising about a half-million dollars, and a madman, and—no—there was something else, something that was gradually gaining priority over the rest. Yes—Polly Wickes! Well, Polly Wickes, then ... a flower girl in London ... a lady four years later in America ... how old had she been when this had happened ... how old had she been ... confound it, what did he mean by that ... what did he mean ... she couldn't have been more than a child ... a mere child....
He halted, abruptly at the sound of his own name. Unconsciously he had almost reached the door leading into the lounging room of the boathouse. Polly Wickes was talking to some one—to whoever it was, of course, whose arrival at the boathouse had frightened old Mr. Marlin away a few minutes ago. Ah, yes! Newcombe! That was Newcombe laughing now.
"But just the same," said Polly Wickes, "it does seem a little strange to me that Mr. Locke would make such a trip with you on so short acquaintance."
"Nonsense!" replied Captain Francis Newcombe. "There's nothing strange about it. You don't know that type of young American, that's all. The 'short acquaintance' end of it is purely90 the insular91 English viewpoint. He had a holiday on his hands, as I told you, and he meant to spend it on his boat somewhere. We hit it off splendidly together coming over, and—well, we've hit it off splendidly ever since. That's all."
"Let's change the subject, then," said Polly Wickes.
Captain Francis Newcombe laughed complacently92.
"I was going to," he said. "I want to speak to you about last night."
"I don't care for your choice," said Polly Wickes in what seemed to Locke like sudden agitation93. "I haven't been able to get that horrible cry out of my mind all day, and I hardly slept at all when I went to bed."
"But, my dear, that is utterly absurd!" Captain Francis Newcombe returned, with another laugh. "I can only repeat what I said to you this morning—that it must have been some boatmen out on the water cat-calling to each other. I was startled myself at first, and a bit angry, I'll admit, at the thought that some one was taking liberties with us; but I am quite sure now it was nothing of the kind. You mustn't give it another thought—really. It isn't worth it! But I wasn't going to refer to that again. What I wanted to know was whether or not you told Miss Marlin about seeing her father out there at that hour of night?"
"Yes," said Polly Wickes. "I told her; and she said she knew he sometimes went out night after night for a number of nights, and that, strangely enough, he'd go out later each night until finally it would be just before daybreak when he left the house—and then, after that, for a long while he wouldn't go out at all. She said she had never given her father an inkling that she knew, and had never put any restraint upon him. As I have told you, what the doctors have warned her about, and what she is more afraid of than anything else, is arousing any suspicion in her father's mind that he requires watching or is being watched. There is the danger that he might become violent. In fact, it is almost certain that he would under such conditions, Doctor Daemer said."
"H'm!" commented Captain Francis Newcombe.
A chair creaked within; a footstep sounded on the floor approaching the door.
And Howard Locke retreated quietly around the corner of the boathouse.
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1
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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aquarium
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| n.水族馆，养鱼池，玻璃缸 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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bungalows
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| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
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contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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fawn
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| n.未满周岁的小鹿；v.巴结，奉承 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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piers
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| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
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ramp
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| n.暴怒，斜坡，坡道；vi.作恐吓姿势，暴怒，加速；vt.加速 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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steadfastness
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| n.坚定，稳当 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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berthed
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| v.停泊( berth的过去式和过去分词 )；占铺位 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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trespassing
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| [法]非法入侵 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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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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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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ingenuously
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| adv.率直地，正直地 | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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ingenuousness
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| n.率直；正直；老实 | |
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rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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connivance
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| n.纵容；默许 | |
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tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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contritely
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rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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talisman
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| n.避邪物，护身符 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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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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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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82
elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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coherence
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| n.紧凑；连贯；一致性 | |
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89
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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insular
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| adj.岛屿的，心胸狭窄的 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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