This self-abasement from high estate established her martyrdom in the eyes of chivalrous8 youth. He swore eternal devotion, his soul registering the vow9. They wrote frequently to each other, and met as often as they could. Three mornings a week, at an astonishingly early hour, she left her house soberly clad, for the purpose of working at a mythical10 canteen. On those mornings Godfrey waited for her at a discreet11 distance round the corner of the square, in a two-seater car for which, as a crippled staff officer, he had contrived12 to obtain a petrol permit. An hour’s run—Richmond Park, Barnes Common: it mattered little where—and Lady Edna went demurely13 home to breakfast and Godfrey to his day’s work at the War Office.
Of the canteen Edgar Donnithorpe knew nothing, for she had merely tossed the invention to her maid, until one morning, coming down earlier than usual, he met her ascending14 the stairs.
“Good lord!” said he. “What have you been doing at this unearthly hour?”
Irritated at having to lie to him, she replied: “I’ve been doing an hour’s shift at a canteen. Have you any objection?”
He shrugged15 his shoulders. “Why should I? If it pleases you and doesn’t hurt the Tommies—poor devils.”
“Like the rest of the country,” he replied, “at the mercy of the amateur.”
He turned with his thin laugh and left her speechless with futile18 anger. She wondered how she had ever regarded him otherwise than with unmitigated hatred19.
She told the incident to Godfrey, having reached the point of confiding20 to him such domestic bickerings. He set his teeth and damned the fellow. How could this incomparable angel dwell in the same house with him? She sighed. If it were not for the war. . . . But during the war the house was the centre of her manifold activities on behalf of the country. As for the social side of it, she would throw that up to-morrow only too gladly. Heavens, how weary she was of it all!
“I wish to God I could take you away with me!” said the young man fiercely.
“I wish you could, dear,” she said in her caressing21 tone. “But in the meantime we have these happy little hours. We mustn’t ask too much of fate.”
“I only ask what fate gives to any man—that bus driver and that policeman—the woman he loves.”
“I’m afraid,” she laughed, “if you heard the history of their vie amoureuse, you would be dreadfully disillusioned22. It seems to me that everybody marries the wrong person in this muddle-pairing world. We must make the best of it.”
At this period, infatuated though she was, she had no idea of breaking away from convention, even to the extent of setting up a household separate from her husband’s. Social life was dear to her, for all her asseverations to the contrary, and dearer still the influence that she could command. Yet, as the days went on she noticed signs of restiveness23 in Godfrey. An hour thrice a week in an open car, when half his attention had to be devoted24 to the preservation25 of their own and other people’s lives, scarcely satisfied his young ardour. The times when he could lounge free in her boudoir from four to six were over. As an officer on the staff of the Director-General of Operations, he knew no hours. The intricate arrangements for the mobility26 of the British Army did not depend on the convenience of young gentlemen at the War Office. Such had to scorn delight and live laborious27 days, which on the occasions of especial military activity were apt to run into the nights. Now and then, of course, Godfrey could assure himself an hour or so for lunch, but never could he foretell28 it on the day before. Only once, by hasty telephoning, did they manage to meet for lunch at the Carlton. In the evenings they were a little more successful. Now and again a theatre together. But Godfrey, suddenly become sensitive on the point of honour, refused opportunities of dining at Belgrave Square.
“If I love a man’s wife, I can’t sit at his table and drink his wine and smile at him,” he proclaimed bluntly.
“It seems,” she said, at last, “there’s nothing left but for me to run away with you.”
“Why not?” he asked, laughing, for her tone was light.
“What about the British Army?”
He reflected. If she had said what about morality, or Christianity, or his immortal29 soul, he would have damned any item of them off-hand. But he couldn’t damn the British Army. He temporized30.
“I don’t quite see.”
“That would never do,” said Godfrey.
“So we’ll have to sacrifice ourselves for our country till the war’s over,” said Lady Edna.
Then, in spite of philosophic32 and patriotic33 resolve, the relations between them grew to be uncertain and dangerous. Aware of this, she sought to play rather the part of Egeria than that of the unhappy wife claiming consolation from her lover.
Now about this time arose rumours34 of political dissatisfaction in certain quarters; of differences of opinion between the civil and the military high authorities. Wild gossip animated36 political circles, and the wilder it became, the more it was fostered, here malignantly37, then honestly, by political factions38 opposed to the Government or to the conjectured40 strategical conduct of the war. Lady Edna Donnithorpe, in the thick of everything that darkened counsel, found the situation obscure. What were the real facts from the military point of view? She discussed matters with Godfrey, who, regarding her as his second self, the purest well of discretion41, told her artlessly what he knew. As a matter of fact, she loyally kept her inner information to herself; but her eyes were opened to vast schemes of which the little political folk about her were ignorant. And one of the most ignorant and most blatantly42 cocksure about everything was Edgar Donnithorpe, her husband, whose attitude, in view of her knowledge, began to fill her with vague disquietude.
To all this political unrest, Baltazar was loftily indifferent.
“The scum of the world’s hell-broth,” said he. “Skim it off and chuck it away, and let us get on with the cooking.”
He was cooking with all his might, preparing the ingredients of the contemplated43 new Ministry44. Everything must be organized before the final step was token. No fiasco like the jerry-built Ministry of National Service should be possible. Brains, policy, a far-spread scheme complete in detail first; then the building and the simple machinery45 of clerks and typists. He worked from morning to night, as indeed he had done all his life long. The Universal Review sped full-sail on a course of fantastic prosperity. The man had the touch of genius that makes success. He spared himself neither mentally nor physically46. He found time for enthusiastic work with the National Volunteers and the Special Constabulary, which formerly47 he had scorned. As a Special Constable48 he quickly gained promotion49, of which he was inordinately50 proud. Said Marcelle:
“I believe that running about in an air raid is the greatest joy of your life.”
To which, in his honest egotistical way, he replied:
“I’m not quite so sure that it isn’t.”
And Godfrey to Marcelle, discussing him:
He had. It absorbed him from the moment of waking to the moment of falling asleep. Since Godfrey’s appointment at the War Office, father and son, living in the same house, met so seldom that they grew each to set an exaggerated value on the other. The boy, conscious not only himself of the force of the man, but of the tribute paid to it by the gods and demi-gods of the land, withdrew his original suspicious antagonism53 and surrendered loyally.
“I’m proud of him. My God, I am!” he said to Marcelle. “My childish faith is justified54. I take back all I’ve said this last year. He’s a marvel55, and I’m glad I’m his son.”
He saw perhaps, at this stage, more of Marcelle than of Edna. For Marcelle, shortly after her lunch with Baltazar on the day of Godfrey’s river idyll, had broken down in health and left Churton Towers. The strain of three years’ incessant56 work had ended in collapse57. She was ordered three months’ rest. After a weary fortnight alone in the Cornish country, she had come to London, in spite of medical advice, and shared the Bayswater flat of a friend, a working woman, engaged at the Admiralty. Chance, perhaps a little bit of design, for the motives58 that determine a woman’s decision are often sadly confused; had thus brought her within easy walking distance of Sussex Gardens and of what the strange man to whose fortunes destiny seemed to link her, and whom uncontrollable fears and forces restrained her from marrying, loved to call the House of Baltazar. Of course, in his headstrong way, he had vehemently59 put the house at her disposal. He would fix up a suite60 of apartments for her where she could live, her own mistress, just as she chose. Godfrey, Quong Ho and servants could go to the devil. They could pig it anywhere about the house they liked. They would all agree on the paramount61 question of her comfort and happiness.
“In God’s name, why not?” he cried with a large gesture. “What are you afraid of? Me? Mrs. Grundy? What?”
But Marcelle shook her head, smiling and stubborn, and would have none of it. As a concession62 she agreed to run round whenever she heard through the telephone that she was wanted. Baltazar grinned and foretold63 a life of peripatetic64 discomfort65.
“I’ll risk that,” she said.
Thus it happened that Marcelle was in and out of the house at all seasons, Godfrey clamouring for her as much as his father. Under vow of secrecy66 he confided67 to her his love affair. At first she professed68 deep disapprobation. He should remember her first suspicions and grave warnings. A married woman! No good could come of such an entanglement69, no matter how guiltless and romantic. As delicately as he could he reminded her that she herself had cherished a romantic attachment70 to a married man. She had, further, avowed71 her readiness to run off with him. Edna and he were no whit72 worse than the impeccable Marcelle and his revered73 father. Whereupon, doting74 rather foolishly on the young man, she yielded, listened to the varied75 developments of his adventure, and gave sympathy or moral advice, according to the exigencies76 of the occasion.
Her position of confidante, however, caused her many qualms77 of conscience. Her common sense told her that he was treading the path to an all too commonplace bonfire. The woman was some years older than he. Marcelle admitted her beauty and superficial charm; but her feminine instinct pounced78 on insincerities, affectations and hardnesses undreamed of by the guileless worshipper. She divined, to her great dismay, a sudden sex upheaval79 in this young and self-thwarted woman rather than a pure passion of love. What ought she to do? The question kept her awake of nights. She could not, without breaking the most solemn specific promise, ask counsel of Baltazar. Nor could she refuse to listen further to the boy. He would go his own way and leave her in the misery80 of incertitude81. To go pleading to Lady Edna, like the heavy mother in a French play, was unimaginable. What then remained for her but to continue to receive his confidences? And even then, if she met them with copybook maxims82, he would turn on her with his original tu quoque, and, if she persisted, it would be equivalent to the withdrawal83 of her sympathetic attention. The only course, therefore, that remained open was to let things go on as they were, and, as far as it lay in her power, to keep his feet from pitfalls84. His strange mixture, precipitated85 by the war, of child and man, appealed to all the woman within her. In his dealings with men—she saw him with pride at his father’s table—he had the air and the experience of five-and-thirty. In dealing86 with women, even with her own motherly self, he was the romantic, unsophisticated boy of eighteen. His real age now was twenty-one. And at the back of her clean mind lay the conviction that Lady Edna, however indiscreet she might be, could not make the complete and criminal fool of herself.
This conviction deepened when she had an opportunity of seeing them again together, at a little dinner party of six to which Baltazar had invited Lady Edna and the Jackmans. Between them it was “Godfrey” and “Edna” frank and undisguised. Their friendship was obvious; obvious, too, her charming assumption of proprietorship87. But she carried it off with the air of a beautiful woman accustomed to such domination over the men she admitted to her intimacy88. Beyond this, Marcelle could espy89 nothing; not a soft word, not a covert90 glance that betrayed a deeper sentiment. It is all play to her, she concluded, and grew happier in her mind.
Toward the end of the evening after the Jackmans had gone, Lady Edna said lightly to Baltazar:
Baltazar waved one hand and put the other on Godfrey’s shoulder.
“He shall do the honours.”
“Would you really like to see it?” Godfrey asked innocently.
“Of course I should. Your souvenirs——”
Baltazar beamed on them till they left the drawing-room.
“It’s the best day’s work I ever did for Godfrey,” said he.
“What?”
“Getting him in with Lady Edna. A young fellow wants a clever woman to shepherd him. Does him no end of good. Broadens his mind.”
“Mayn’t it be a bit dangerous?” Marcelle hazarded.
“Dangerous? Suppose he does think himself in love with her? All the better. Keeps him out of mischief91.”
“But she might possibly fall in love with him too.”
“That type of woman can’t fall in love. She’s of the earth earthly, of the world worldly. Otherwise she couldn’t have married that rat of a Donnithorpe.”
“I suppose it’s all right,” said Marcelle.
“You belovedest mid-Victorian survival!” he laughed. “I do believe the young woman’s proposal shocked you!”
They both would have been, if not shocked, at least brought to a sense of actual things, had they seen the transports to which the lovers surrendered themselves as soon as the door of the den closed behind them. Many hundreds of millions of youthful pairs have done exactly the same after long separation. She threw herself into his arms, in which he enfolded her. They kissed and sighed. They had thought they would never be alone again. He had been thirsting for her lips all the tantalizing93 evening. That wonderful brain of hers—to suggest this visit to his room. Even if the idea had occurred to his dull masculine mind, he wouldn’t have had the daring to tender the invitation. Her ever new adorableness! And more kisses and raptures94, until, side by side in the corner of the couch, they began to talk of rational matters.
“There are great things brewing,” she said, after a while. “Just a whisper has reached me—enough to make it dangerous.”
“What things do you refer to?” he asked, with a quick knitting of the brow.
She told him of a wild distortion of the plans of the High Command current in political dining-rooms.
“It’s damnable!” he cried angrily. “One tiny grain of fact to a mountain of imagination. For God’s sake, make it your business to go about crabbing95 the lie for all you’re worth!”
“I will. When you really know, you can speak with such moral authority that you’re believed, although you don’t give away a bit of your knowledge. At least, anyone with a little experience can do it.”
“And you’re an adept,” he said admiringly.
She drew him nearer, for he had started away on his proclamation of the damnability of rumours.
“What is the grain of fact?”
“Why, the great scale offensive.”
“I don’t think I ought to tell you.”
“But don’t you see how important it is that a woman in my position, and a woman of my character, should know exactly? Half the calamities96 of the war are due to women giving away half secrets of which they’re not allowed to realize the consequences. Give a woman full confidence, and she’ll be on the side of the angels.”
He kissed her and laughed. Was she not one of the angelic band herself?
She pleaded subtly, her head on his shoulder, her deep-blue eyes looking up into his, her breath on his cheek. Surely he and she were one. One heart, one mind, one soul. Individually each was the other’s complement97. He could work out vast schemes—the most junior of Third Grade Staff Officers glowed at the flattery—and she could see, not that they were put into execution, but that wicked and irresponsible gossip should not bring them to naught98. In her woman’s wheedling99 she had no ulterior purpose in view. She was not the political adventuress unscrupulously seducing100 enamoured youth to the betrayal of his country. It was all insatiable curiosity and lust101 for secret power. And, as far as lay in her nature, she loved the boy; she loved him with a sense of possession; she craved102 him wholly, his devotion, his mind, his knowledge. His physical self was hers, at a moment’s call. She played with that certainty in delicious trepidation103. It invested their relationship in a glamour104 unknown, mysterious, in spite of her married estate. But the long-atrophied romantic in her sprang to sudden life and prevailed.
So subtly did she plead that he was unaware105 of her overmastering desire. Secure in her love and her loyalty106, and confident in the twin hearts and souls, he told her what he knew; but the numerical and topographical details, proving too confusing for her, he laughed and went over to his desk and, with her sitting over him on the arm of his writing-chair, sketched107 a map annotated108 with facts and figures on a sheet of notepaper. When he had done, she returned to the sofa and read the notes.
“Now I understand everything. It’s tremendously exciting, isn’t it?”
“If it comes off.”
“Of course it’ll come off.”
“I say, sweetheart,” he cried, watching the disappearing paper. “For Heaven’s sake don’t go leaving that about! Better stick it in the fire.”
“I’ll do it as soon as I get home.”
She took his hand in delightful110 intimacy and glanced at his wrist watch. Then she started up. They must get back at once, lest the others should subject their absence to undesirable111 conjecture39.
“Oh, the elderly birds”—he laughed gracelessly—“they love to have a little billing and cooing now and then. They’ll be grateful to us.”
But she would not be detained. They went up to the drawing-room.
“He has got a perfect Hun museum downstairs,” she said. “Each piece with a breathless history.”
“What interested you most?” asked Marcelle.
“Me in a gas mask,” said Godfrey, lying readily, for never a glance had Lady Edna given to the trophies112 and spoils which she had set forth113 to see.
Later, after putting her into her taxi, he said through the window:
“If you doubt me, I’ll give it you back now,” she replied rather sharply, thrusting her hand beneath her cloak.
What could ardent115 lover do but repudiate116 the charge of want of faith? She laughed, and answered in her most caressing tones:
The taxi drove off. Godfrey re-entered the house, his young head full of the thought of the paper on which he had written lying warm, deep down, in her bare and sacred bosom.
Lady Edna drove home to her solitary118 house, and, without asking whether her husband was in or out, went straight to her bedroom. As soon as she could she dismissed her maid and sat in her dressing-gown for a long, long time, thinking as a woman thinks, when for the first time in her life she is not sure of herself, when she is all but at the parting of the ways and when each way seems to lead to catastrophe119. As a cold, ambitious girl she had sent the Natural packing; now it had come galloping120 back. At last she rose and went to her dressing-table. On it lay the crumpled121 scrap of paper. She glanced at it. The figures and lines conveyed no meaning to her tired brain. What was the warfare122 in the world to the warfare in her soul? She couldn’t concern herself with the higher strategy to-night. To-morrow, when she was fresh, she would tackle the intricate scheme. She put the paper into a little secret drawer of her writing-table of which even her maid did not know the spring.
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1
reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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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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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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restiveness
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| n.倔强，难以驾御 | |
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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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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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mobility
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| n.可动性，变动性，情感不定 | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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foretell
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| v.预言，预告，预示 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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temporized
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| v.敷衍( temporize的过去式和过去分词 )；拖延；顺应时势；暂时同意 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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malignantly
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| 怀恶意地； 恶毒地； 有害地； 恶性地 | |
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factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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conjectured
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| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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blatantly
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| ad.公开地 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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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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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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inordinately
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| adv.无度地，非常地 | |
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hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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55
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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57
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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58
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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peripatetic
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| adj.漫游的，逍遥派的，巡回的 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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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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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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entanglement
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| n.纠缠，牵累 | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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doting
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| adj.溺爱的，宠爱的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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qualms
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| n.不安；内疚 | |
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78
pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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incertitude
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| n.疑惑，不确定 | |
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maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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pitfalls
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| （捕猎野兽用的）陷阱( pitfall的名词复数 )； 意想不到的困难，易犯的错误 | |
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precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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86
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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proprietorship
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| n.所有（权）；所有权 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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espy
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| v.（从远处等）突然看到 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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tantalizing
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| adj.逗人的；惹弄人的；撩人的；煽情的v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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crabbing
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| v.捕蟹( crab的现在分词 ) | |
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calamities
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| n.灾祸，灾难( calamity的名词复数 )；不幸之事 | |
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complement
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| n.补足物，船上的定员；补语；vt.补充，补足 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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99
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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seducing
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| 诱奸( seduce的现在分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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101
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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102
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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103
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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104
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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105
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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106
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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107
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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108
annotated
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| v.注解，注释( annotate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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110
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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111
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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112
trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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113
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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114
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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115
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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116
repudiate
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| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
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117
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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118
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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119
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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120
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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121
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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122
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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