By that strange perversity1 which is peculiar2 to loving womanhood, Aliette's first thoughts--as the taxi rattled3 her away from Jermyn Street--were for her husband.
For the second time in three years her mood relented. "Poor Hector!" she thought. "He'll be home when I get back. It isn't much of a home for him--ours."
Yet, even relenting, she knew that she could never forgive. The physical Hector was dead, killed by her knowledge of his infidelities--as dead to her as the physical Ronnie was alive.
Then she forgot Hector, remembered only Ronnie. Her memory thrilled to his caresses4. She began to yearn5 for him with a bodily yearning6 so acute that--had he been beside her in the taxi--she would have thrown her arms round his neck.
Her mind whirled. This way. That way. She, Aliette Brunton, who had always thought "that sort of thing" the prerogative7 of shop-girls and chorus-ladies, was yearning, physically8, for a man. It was all wrong. She should never have gone to his rooms. They must part. She would never be parted from him. He ought never to have made love to her. She would have died if he had not made love to her!
She tried to blame herself for her weakness; she tried to think: "I made no struggle. I yielded everything. I virtually threw myself at his head. I should have been strong. I should have denied him my hands, my lips." But her heart refused to be blamed; her heart said: "He loves you. You love him. Nothing else matters."
The taxi swung into Bayswater Road; and instinctively9 Aliette opened her vanity-bag. Glancing at her face in the mirrored lid, she remembered Hector again. Hector mustn't see her as Ronnie had seen her. Hector mustn't find out!
Once more, she felt abased10. Once more her fastidiousness revolted--this time from concealment11. The commonplace impulse--to confess--appeared, disappeared. What was there to confess? Nothing!
Nevertheless, paying her driver, mounting the pillared door-step, ringing as she let herself into the square tessellated hall, Aliette felt guilty. In thought, if not in act, she was little better than the husband whom Lennard, appearing from his lower regions, announced to be in the library.
Caroline Staley joined Lennard in the hall. Aliette handed her gloves, her bag and parasol to the maid; asked Lennard the time; heard it was a quarter past seven; hesitated the fraction of a second; and pushed open the library door.
Hector sat in his big leather armchair by the bow-window--the "Evening Standard" on his knees, and a glass of whisky and water at his elbow. His gray eyes lit pleasurably at sight of her. As he came across the room with a smiled "My dear, how well you're looking," Aliette realized with the shock of a sudden revelation the cruelty latent in those thin lips.
(She was looking well, thought Hector; her very best. This evening, that subtle incomprehensible process, process alike mental and physical, which he had divined at work in her for so long, seemed to have attained13 its completion. Her very complexion14 showed it.)
"Am I?" she answered.
He gave her the cheek-kiss of connubial15 compromise; and she schooled herself not to shudder16. "This is the price I must pay," she thought, "for those other kisses."
"Hello, Hector," said Mollie. "So you've got back."
The girl's eyes were all luminous18, subtly afire with happiness. Kissing Aliette, she whispered, "I must talk to you."
To Brunton, watching the sisters go arm in arm through the door, came a sharp pang19 of sex-consciousness. As Aliette, so Mollie: from each there radiated that same incomprehensible aura of physical and mental completion. The aura excited Brunton, stimulated20 him, roused his imagination almost to mania21. All the way home in the car--and usually the car distracted him--he had been thinking of his wife, goading23 his mind with the mirage24 of the past. Now the prongs of the goad22 penetrated25 through the mind to the very flesh.
He poured himself another drink, and stood for a long while in contemplation of a photograph on his desk; a photograph of Aliette, taken just before they became engaged. He remembered how then, as always, her fastidiousness had lured26 him; how then, as now, he had ached to conquer her fastidiousness, to make her desires one with his own. And always, from the very outset to this very day, he had failed. Against the refinement27 in her, even when she yielded, his will to sex-mastery beat in vain; till finally there came the break.
The break, as Hector saw it, had been of her making. The things he most desired of her, the unfastidious intimacies28, she either could not or would not endure. Those intimacies she had driven him elsewhere to seek. And he had sought them for three years; sought them, he now realized, without assuaging29 his desire.
Dressing30 for dinner, he heard--from the room she had barred against him--his wife's voice. His wife and her sister were talking, talking. The incomprehensible talk maddened Hector, even as the incomprehensible physical aura of them had maddened him. Surely--surely it was high time to put an end to this--this nonsensical chastity.
2
Her sister's dressing-hour confidences seemed to Aliette the final complication. Mollie had met James Wilberforce, by accident, in Bond Street. Although too late for tea, he had insisted on her eating an ice at Rumpelmayer's. At Rumpelmayer's they ran into the admiral and Hermione. The admiral had spoken of his meeting with Alie.
"Where did you have tea?" asked the girl.
"Never mind about my tea," retorted her sister. "Tell me your news."
Whereupon Mollie, not in the least hesitantly, told it. Jimmy had asked her to marry him! That is to say, he had spoken about marriage in such a way as to leave no doubt about his intention to propose. That was one of the admirable things about Jimmy. He never beat around the bush. She, of course, had "choked him off." Jimmy must be taught that these things couldn't be fixed32 up over an ice in a tea-shop.
"Still," concluded the modern young, "I'm very fond of James. The chances are that I shall marry him in the autumn."
"And James Wilberforce," thought Aliette, as she went down to dinner, "is just the person whose wife's family must be sans reproche!"
Dinner completed her mental bouleversement. Hector--she divined even before they sat down--was in a difficult mood. Hector insisted on champagne33, insisted on their sharing it. He grew boisterous34 on the first glass. "They would have a cheery evening," said Hector. "They would get the car round after dinner, and drive to Roehampton." But on Aliette's suggesting that he and Mollie should go alone, he dropped both the scheme and his pose of boisterousness35. Catching36 the look in his eyes, she began to be frightened.
Only twice before--once after her first discovery of his infidelities, and once a year later--had Aliette seen that particular look in Hector's eyes. It betokened37 contest. Not the casual entreaties38 of recent months, but contest--contest almost physical! Formerly39, though resenting the indignity40 of such a contest, she had never dreaded41 it. But to-night--to-night was different.
When Lennard brought in the port, Hector refused to be left alone. They stayed with him while he drank two glasses; and again, watching him, Aliette's mood relented. The look in his eyes had grown soft, almost pleading. "Poor old Hector," she thought; "so many women could have given him all that he requires from a wife. Only I--I can't. I'm Ronnie's--Ronnie's."
Once more her mind whirled. This way. That way. Guilt12, fear, love, uncertainty42 drove the wheels of her mind.
Yet both mind and body possessed43 one certainty: that the physical Hector had died three years since.
3
It was late, nearly midnight; but Mollie still sat strumming on the piano in the big balconied drawing-room.
Ever since dinner began the girl had been conscious of domestic tension. She could see, over the shining instrument, that neither husband nor wife listened to the music. They sat, either side the fireplace, avoiding speech, avoiding each other's eyes.
Occasionally, when he thought himself unobserved, Hector would glance at Alie. Mollie knew, of course, that Alie didn't get on very well with Hector. On more than one of her visits to them there had been such periods of tension. But this--to the girl's intuition--seemed far more serious, far nearer definite crisis than anything before. Somehow the situation frightened her; somehow she felt averse44 to leaving Alie alone with Hector. All the same, one couldn't go on playing ragtimes till dawn.
"I'm going to bed," she announced. "You too, Alie?"
"Not just yet." Aliette kissed her sister good night. During the last two hours her relenting mood had almost evaporated under the fire of Hector's covert46 glances. Her mind no longer whirled. She knew now--definitely--that contest between them was unavoidable; and, though she still dreaded it, her courage refused to postpone47 the ordeal48.
The door closed behind Mollie; and, after a moment's hesitancy, Hector leaned forward from his chair. Aliette saw that there were pearls of sweat on his forehead. His hands gripped the blue grapes of the cretonne chair-cover as though he would squeeze them dry.
"Are you? Why?"
"Because it's time that you and I had things out with one another."
"What things?" Her voice sounded a little shy, but she no longer averted50 her eyes. They met his--brown cold and resolute51, against gray kindling52 to passion.
"Everything. Aliette," he began to plead with her, "we can't go on like this for ever."
"Why not?"
"Because the whole position's intolerable. Either you're my wife, or you're not. I--I can't stand this sort of life."
"What sort of life?"
"You know perfectly53 well what I mean. Aliette," he pleaded again, "can't we make a fresh start--to-night?"
She felt her whole heart turning icy to him as she answered: "We threshed that matter out a very long time ago. I can see no use in referring to it again."
"Possibly you can't." Hector rose. Her very aloofness54 urged him, despite better judgment55, to immediate56 mastery. "But you're not the only one to be considered. As your husband, I have certain rights."
"If you have, I shouldn't advise you to try and enforce them."
The words sounded calm enough; but there was no calm in Aliette's heart. Suddenly she grew conscious that the sense of rectitude which had sustained her for three years sustained her no longer. In thought she had descended57 to her husband's level. Her cheeks flushed.
"Why shouldn't I enforce them?" The flush did not escape his eye. Perhaps, after all, she was no different from other women, from the women who liked one to be forceful. He made a movement towards her. "Why shouldn't I enforce them?" he repeated.
"Because you have no rights." Even his blurred58 judgment knew better than to touch her. "Because you forfeited59 them--three years ago."
"That old affair," he muttered sullenly60; and drew away from where she sat. Then, excusing himself, "Renée's in Australia. She's been in Australia two years. I paid her passage----"
Proudly, coldly, Aliette answered him back: "I hope you do not discuss your wife with your mistresses in the same way that you discuss your mistresses with your wife."
The cold pride weakened him. "You're very harsh. I made a mistake--three years ago. I admitted it at the time. I admit it once more. I've made--other mistakes. But that's all over. You're a woman, a well-bred woman. You can't understand these things."
Three days since she would not have understood; now, understanding a little, she relented again.
"Hector--I'm very sorry. But it's--it's impossible."
He came toward her again; bent61 down, and tried to take her hand. She drew it away from him. The overwhelming physical hunger of his eyes worried her. His feet, on the white rug, showed suddenly enormous, grotesque--grotesque as his affection.
"Why is it impossible?"
She thought how often she had asked herself that same question; knew that--in Ronnie's arms--she had at last found the answer; knew that she must lie. And she hated lying. Yet more than lying she hated the knowledge that her body, which had lain in Ronnie's arms, should be cause of that overwhelming hunger in Hector's eyes.
She said quietly, "Must we go over all this old ground again?" And since he did not answer: "It does no good. I don't want to hurt you more than I can help. Won't you just leave things as they are? Won't you believe me when I tell you that it's just--impossible?"
His legal mind, suddenly active, caught at the pleading note in her voice; fastened on it. "You're very solicitous62, apparently63, about my feelings?"
For a second, wondering if he could suspect, she grew fearful. Then, putting away fear, she rose and faced him. The flush had gone from her cheeks; her eyes--aloof, impersonal--told him the utter hopelessness of his cause. And with that knowledge came suspicion--a suspicion formless as the first shadow-haze of storm in a brazen64 sky.
"I don't wish to hurt you," she reiterated65. "But the thing you ask is out of the question; and will always be out of the question. Even the discussion of it offends me."
"Aliette--do you realize the meaning of what you've just said?"
"Perfectly." Her eyes met his, beat them down.
"And what do you expect me to do under the circumstances?" Again suspicion came to him; and with suspicion, anger at his own impotence. "You're not a child. You know perfectly well what happens to a man whose wife refuses to live with him. I've never pretended to be a saint: I've left that to you."
"Hector!" Temper clenched67 her fingers. Her whole fastidiousness revolted against the man, against the topic he would not relinquish68.
"I'm sorry if you're shocked"--all his cruelty wanted to shock her, to see her fastidiousness in degradation69--"but I'm trying to tell you the truth--just for a change. If you persist in your saintliness, there's only one course open to me. Another Renée! A man can't live without a woman. It isn't fair to his nature. It isn't healthy."
"Healthy!" she burst out.
"Yes. Healthy. Does that upset you?"
Her eyes blazed as she answered: "How dare you talk to me like that? How dare you? Healthy! I suppose that was your idea when you married me. You took me--medicinally."
"Aliette!" Her fury cowed the cruelty in him. "I married you because I loved you. I love you still."
"Love!" Her cheeks kindled70. Caution was ripped loose from her as a sail is ripped loose by the wind. The shreds72 of it flapped against her mind, infuriating her. That this man who might have been father of her children should cloak his lusts73 with that divine word, seemed the ultimate defilement74. "Love!" Her breasts heaved. "Don't talk to me of love. Talk of your rights, of your health, if you like; but spare me the degradation of what it pleases you to call your love."
At that, definitely, the lawyer in Brunton suspected. Black thoughts drove and drove, thunder-cloud-like, across the sky of his mind; and through the rifts75 in those thunder-clouds his mind saw two visions--his wife, infernally desirable, infernally distant from the reach of his desires, and a woman to be probed, a hostile witness for cross-examination.
"You speak as though you were an authority on the subject," he sneered76; and, as she deigned77 no answer, "a saintly authority."
"Perhaps"--his voice dropped two full tones--"I have the right to be insolent."
"Explain yourself, please."
He came so close to her that she could see every pore in the skin of his face. "I should hardly have thought an explanation necessary. I said, 'Perhaps I have the right to be insolent.' It is for you to explain why"--his lips worked--"you regard 'what I am pleased to call my love for you' as a degradation."
"And if I refuse to explain?"
"And that is?" she dared him.
Abruptly80, Brunton the lawyer became Brunton the husband. He no longer wanted to cross-examine; he wanted to possess--to possess this woman. Why should he not possess her? She was as much his as the furniture in his home, the books in his chambers81. By law and by religion, she owed him her body. He had always been chivalrous82 to her; he had always tried to fall in with her whimsies83, to be kind. She had never been kind. All she had tried to do was to hurt him.
"And that conclusion is?" she flung at him.
God! How much she could hurt him. God! How he wished to spare himself. He wanted her so; his whole body ached for her little hands, for her lips, for the touch of her hair. Why should she thus goad him? Even if--even if she had cared--virtuous women did care sometimes, platonically of course--for somebody else, he could forgive her.
He did not want, even, to forgive. He only wanted to know nothing. He only wanted her to be kind to him, to let him love her--in his own way. Without all this--all this fuss.
But her eyes refused him kindness; her lips demanded their answer. She maddened him with her rigid84 lips, with her blank unfriendly scrutiny85.
"Your conclusion, please, Hector?"
"Since you insist," the words seemed torn from the man's throat, "the conclusion I draw is that--you're in love with somebody else."
He had expected indignation, furious abuse, furious denial; anything but the deadly calmness with which she answered: "And supposing there were somebody else? What right would you have to object?"
Aliette saw Hector recoil as though she had struck him; saw rage, incredulity, fear, apprehension86, chase in scarlet87 chaos88 across his face. His thin lips writhed--as though in torment89. But she could feel no pity for his torment. In her eyes, he was the beast, the defiling90 beast: defeated, he yet stood, shifty on those great feet of his, between her and happiness, between her and her chance of motherhood, between her and--Ronnie.
"Well," she shot at him, "what right would you have to object?"
"I should have the right," he stammered91, "the right that any husband possesses. But you're not serious. For God's sake, tell me you're not serious. I haven't been such a bad husband to you. I haven't deserved this----"
Suddenly she remembered Ronnie's words: "Unless he lets you divorce him. Why not? It's done every day." Suddenly she remembered Hector's own words, the speech he had insisted she should read after the Ellerson case.
"You're not serious," he challenged.
"I'm perfectly serious. Please answer my question. And before you answer it, let me remind you of something you said in public not more than a fortnight ago. You said: 'A woman on marriage does not become her husband's property.' I want to know if you still abide92 by that question."
"And I"--rage mastered the apprehension in him--"I want to know, definitely, if there is anybody else."
Her lips pursed to silence. She could almost see Ronnie--and her silence was all for him. For herself she had no fear, only the violent instinct to be free, to be free at any cost, from Hector Brunton.
"Answer me!" He almost shouted at her.
Quietly, she answered, "There is nobody else--in the way you mean."
"Will you swear?"
"You have my word. If that's not enough for you----"
The unfinished sentence tortured him. He saw himself alive, tormented93; her as a statue of fate, unmoving, cold by his cold fireside. If only she would make some movement--not stand there like a statue: her lips rigid, her hands taut94, every line of her body tense under the frozen draperies.
"I don't doubt your word," he said sullenly.
"Then answer my question. Do you regard me as your property or not? If I asked you for my freedom, would you give it to me?"
"You mean--let you divorce me?"
"On what grounds?"
"Your infidelities."
"My infidelities!" He laughed, his legal mind seeing the whole strength of his position. "You have no proof of them. And even if you had, infidelity by itself is no ground for divorce. Besides"--his cruelty could not forbear the blow--"you've condoned96 them."
"Condoned them! I?"
"Yes. You. By not leaving my house. By continuing to live with me."
"That's untrue. I've never lived with you, since--since I found out."
"You'll never make the world believe that."
"What do I care about the world?"
"Aliette"--for the last time he forced himself to plead with her,--"think of my position, our position. Even if it were legally possible, you wouldn't ask me----"
He continued to plead till he felt utterly97 worn out, utterly beaten; till it seemed to him that he had been arguing with her--arguing uselessly--for hours. And all the time he argued, one thought nagged98 at him: "There is somebody else. There must be somebody else. I must find out who he is."
"Then you refuse," she was saying. "You refuse me my freedom. You go back on your own words."
She, too, felt worn out. She could not even hate the man, because she had no right to hate him. At least--Mollie's words about James Wilberforce came into her weary mind--Hector had not beaten around the bush. He had been straight-forward enough; whereas she--she was not being straight-forward, was not playing the game. But the instinct to be free did not abate99 its violence.
"Very well"--the cross-examiner in Brunton urged him to the playing of his last card,--"I won't go back on my words. I'll admit the justice of everything you've said. You shall have your freedom." Her eyes lit; and his suspicion became certainty. "I'll arrange everything. There need be very little scandal; only the usual fake--a suit for restitution100 of your conjugal101 rights. You'll get an order of the court, an order for me to return to you. You needn't worry, I sha'n't comply with it. After that----"
He broke off, watching her. Her face had softened102, renewed its coloring. Yet she was nervous. She fidgeted ever so slightly, first on one white-shod foot, than on the other.
"But before I consent, there's one condition I must make; one question I must ask you." His voice grew stern, became the voice of the K.C. "Before I take any steps in this matter, I must have your assurance, your definite assurance, that you are not asking for your freedom with a view--with a view"--he hesitated--"to marrying any one else."
The blood ebbed103 from Aliette's cheeks: it seemed to her that her heart had stopped beating. This was the test! One downright lie--and she might win to freedom. That issue she saw clearly. But she saw another issue--the issue between herself and Ronnie. Even though Ronnie himself had suggested that she should divorce Hector, his suggestion--she knew--had implied telling Hector the truth. Surely Ronnie would be the first to reject freedom won at such a price.
And, "I've got to play the game," cried the soul of Aliette; "otherwise, even my love for Ronnie becomes a degradation." Yet, still, instinct cried in her for freedom.
The decisive seconds lengthened104; lengthened; stretched, taut as piano-wire, into the eternities. The scene imprinted105 itself, sharper than sharpest snapshot, on unfading memory. Always, burnt into memory, would remain Hector, his sandy hair awry106, his thin lips parted under the bulbous nose, his jowl set; would remain herself, torture-pale on the rack of indetermination; would remain the light white room, blazing with electrics, the stripes of its wall-paper upright as prison bars. No freedom from that prison--save at the price of truth!
"I cannot give you that assurance, Hector," said Hector's wife.
About her, the snapshotted scene trembled, shivered and broke to whirling fragments. She was conscious of Hector's hands, itching107 to take her by the throat, of Hector's feet, of the red fury in Hector's eyes. His hands itched108 to strike her. If he struck, she would strike back--madly, through those whirling fragments.
But Brunton could not strike; he could not even speak. The insanity109 of balked110 desire dumbed his mouth as it numbed111 his limbs. Nature, fighting like a wild beast, wrenched112 at the cage of his self-control. He could hear nature wrenching113 ape-like at his ribs114, howling to him: "Kill! Kill both! Kill both the man and the woman!" The blood-lust and the sex-lust were knives in his loins.
"You!" he stammered. "You, you----" Then his hands ceased their itching, and the red in his eyes flickered115 out, smoldering116 to gray.
She heard his great feet go creaking across the room, creaking through the doorway117, creaking up the staircase. She heard the slam of an upstairs door. She heard herself whisper to the wide-eyed distraught woman who peered out from the mirror over the mantelpiece: "That leaves only one way--only one way to freedom."
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perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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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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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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prerogative
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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instinctively
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abased
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| 使谦卑( abase的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到羞耻； 使降低（地位、身份等）； 降下 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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connubial
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| adj.婚姻的，夫妇的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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luminous
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pang
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stimulated
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mania
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goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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goading
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| v.刺激( goad的现在分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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mirage
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penetrated
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lured
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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intimacies
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| 亲密( intimacy的名词复数 )； 密切； 亲昵的言行； 性行为 | |
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assuaging
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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31
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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32
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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33
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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34
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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35
boisterousness
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| n.喧闹；欢跃；（风暴）狂烈 | |
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36
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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37
betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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39
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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40
indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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41
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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42
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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43
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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44
averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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45
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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46
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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47
postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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48
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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49
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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50
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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51
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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52
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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53
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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54
aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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55
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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56
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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57
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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58
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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59
forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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61
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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62
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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63
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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64
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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67
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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69
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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70
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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71
shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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72
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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73
lusts
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| 贪求（lust的第三人称单数形式） | |
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74
defilement
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| n.弄脏，污辱，污秽 | |
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75
rifts
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| n.裂缝( rift的名词复数 )；裂隙；分裂；不和 | |
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76
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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79
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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80
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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81
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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82
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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83
whimsies
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| n.怪念头( whimsy的名词复数 )；异想天开；怪脾气；与众不同的幽默感 | |
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84
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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85
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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86
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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87
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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88
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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89
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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90
defiling
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| v.玷污( defile的现在分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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91
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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93
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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94
taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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95
hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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96
condoned
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| v.容忍，宽恕，原谅( condone的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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98
nagged
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| adj.经常遭责怪的；被压制的；感到厌烦的；被激怒的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的过去式和过去分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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99
abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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100
restitution
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| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
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101
conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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102
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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103
ebbed
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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104
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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105
imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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106
awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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107
itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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108
itched
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| v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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110
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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111
numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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113
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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114
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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115
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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117
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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