He proclaimed himself a brute9 for dragging her out on such a filthy10 morning. It was super-angelic of her to come, but he had scarcely expected her. Wouldn’t it be better to go back home and rest?
“No, no, dear,” she murmured. “This is my rest. Beside you. Storm or sunshine, what does it matter, so long as we’re together?”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” said he, driving off. “Hell and damnation would be Paradise if I always had you with me.”
And in the same emotional key they talked all the time during their drive through a dank and dismal11 world. They felt like Paolo and Francesca in Watts’s picture, clinging together alone in comfortless space, remote from War Office and wars and other affairs of men. She wailed12:
“Oh, darling, if only I had met you before I made my wretched marriage!”
“Yes, by God!” said Godfrey, setting his teeth and feeling very fierce.
It did not occur to either of them, in their unhumorous mood, that when she married he was a gawky boy of sixteen.
Gradually they came to vital things.
“If I were little Mrs. Tomkins, whom nobody knows, we could get a hidden nest somewhere, you and I. It would be happiness, and it would be hurting or betraying nobody. But I’m Lady Edna Donnithorpe, related to half the peerage, and known by sight to everybody who looks at an illustrated13 paper.”
“Why not cut everything and make a bolt of it?” asked Godfrey, glaring straight in front of him at the cheerless, almost empty road, his young face set very stem.
“Your career——”
He cursed his career.
“Your soldier’s post. How can you leave it? You’re doing a man’s work for your country.”
“Hell take it!” said he.
“Take what?”
“The whole infernal universe,” he growled14, and swerved15 viciously so as to avoid imminent16 collision with an indignant motor-bus. Again they came to the bed-rock fact of his soldier’s duty.
“You’ll get wet through if you walk,” said he, when they arrived at their trysting spot. “I’ll drive you up to the house and chance it.”
He chanced it, helped her out of the car and stood on the pavement, watching her until she had let herself in with her latchkey. She ran upstairs, to be confronted with her husband at the door of his room which was on the same landing. He was in his dressing-gown, and one side of his face was shaven, the other lathered18.
“I thought you went to a canteen in the mornings?”
“So I do,” she replied calmly.
“Does young Baltazar work there too?”
“Young Baltazar very often calls for me, when it rains, on his way to the War Office, and gives me a lift home.”
“You’re seeing far too much of that young man.”
“The last time we discussed the Baltazar family,” she said with a scornful laugh, “you accused me of an intrigue19 with his father. My dear Edgar, go on with your shaving and don’t be idiotic20.” She flung into her room angry and humiliated21. After all, Edgar had the right to consider his good name, even though his jealousy22 could not proceed from betrayed affection. This was the first time he had referred to Godfrey in any way. Uneasiness beset23 her; so did the eternal question of the deceitful wife: “How much did he know?” They did not meet that day till dinner-time—it was one of the rare occasions on which they dined alone together—when he seemed to be making amends24 for the morning’s attack by more than usual courteous25 conversation on current events. They parted amicably26.
The next afternoon, arriving home very late, she was surprised at seeing him coming, half dressed for dinner, from her room. He smiled in a friendly way and held up a button-hook.
“Mine’s nowhere to be seen—that confounded new parlourmaid—I hope you don’t mind.”
“We’re getting quite domestic,” she said ironically.
“It’s pleasanter,” said he.
She wondered much at his graciousness for the next few days. He became attentive27, manifested dry solicitude28 as to her health and her social and political interests. She dreaded29 a recrudescence of the thin sentiment that, on his part, had sanctioned their marriage. The fear tainted30 the joy of her visits to the mythical31 canteen. Sooner open hostility32 than this semblance33 of conjugal34 affection.
“I’m sorry, darling, to have been so mouldy,” she said, taking leave of Godfrey one morning, “but the situation is getting on my nerves. I’m fed up.”
A day or two later Edgar Donnithorpe entered her sitting-room35, where she was writing letters.
“Sorry to interrupt you, Edna,” said he, “but have you definitely decided36 to go to Moulsford this next week-end?”
“Certainly. I told you. The Barringtons and Susie Delamere and one or two others are coming.”
“Do you mind if I don’t turn up till Sunday?”
“Of course not,” she replied. He was exceedingly polite.
“Thanks,” said he. “The fact is, I want to ask a dozen men or so to dinner here. Only men, you know.”
She glanced at him rather puzzled, for his proposal was an unprecedented38 departure from the custom of the house. Hitherto he had given his men’s political dinner parties at his club. There had been no arrangement or understanding between them as to this mode of entertainment, but so had it chanced to be; and he was a creature of routine.
“Of course. Just as you like. But what’s wrong with the only place fit to dine at in London?”
“It’s war time, my dear,” said he, eyeing her shiftily. “War time. All the clubs have gone to the devil.”
“All right. If you’ll tell me how many are coming, I’ll see to it.”
“No, please don’t. Please don’t worry your head about it.” He made a step forward and held up his thin hand in a deprecatory sort of way. “I’ll fix it up. I don’t want it to be the slightest bit of a concern to you. Thanks so much.”
He hurried out. Lady Edna frowned at her half-written letter. A devious39 man, Edgar. What was in the wind? The cook the next day, however, submitted to her a menu which, with a housewifely modification40 or so, she passed, and thought no more of the material banquet.
During the week the hint of a rumour41 reached her, when, at a public meeting, she ran up against the Rt. Hon. Sir Berkeley Prynne, a Member of the Government who had been hostile to her husband for many years and had only given the hatchet42 superficial burial during the party truce43.
“I suppose you know a lot of us are quaking in our shoes?” he said, half banteringly.
“I don’t,” she said. “But I’ve no doubt it’s good for you. What’s the matter?”
“Signs of underground rumblings. Your quick ears have detected nothing?”
“No. Really. Honour bright. Do tell me.”
He shook his head and laughed. “It’ll be a wash-out,” said he, moving away.
Gibe44 or warning, Sir Berkeley’s words were not devoid45 of significance. They were aimed at her husband. Underground rumblings meant intrigue. She had long suspected Edgar of half-hearted support of the Government; but passionate46 devotion to anything was so foreign to his crafty47, opportunist nature, that she had not greatly troubled her mind about his loyalty48. Here, however, was cause for deeper consideration. The old hacks49, as she had said to Godfrey, were being squeezed out as decently as might be, so as to give place to fresher and honester men, and Edgar’s position was daily growing more insecure. But she had thought he was sticking to it desperately50. Was the worm about to turn? And had the projected dinner-party anything to do with the turning?
“Men connected with the business of the Ministry52,” he replied. “People I must be civil to and who don’t expect us to worry about their women-folk.”
On the Saturday afternoon, at Moulsford, she was surprised to see Rolliter, the old butler, who she thought was staying the night at Belgrave Square to superintend the dinner party. Why was he here?
“Mr. Donnithorpe’s orders, my lady. He said he could get on quite well without me this evening. I couldn’t insist, my lady, but I didn’t like leaving at all, especially as Lord Trevanion was coming.”
“Lord who?” she cried, for he had mentioned a name that was anathema54 maranatha in Government circles.
“I think it’s Trevanion, my lady,” said the butler, rather taken aback by her expression of incredulity. He fished a paper from his pocket and consulted it. “Yes, my lady. I saw the list on Mr. Donnithorpe’s table, so I copied it out so as to write the name-cards before I left.”
An idea struck her. “You did this without Mr. Donnithorpe’s orders?”
“Why, yes, my lady. Mr. Donnithorpe being so busy, I thought it might slip his memory.”
“Did you write the cards?”
“No, my lady. When Mr. Donnithorpe told me to come down here, I asked him about the name-cards, and he said he didn’t want them.”
“Let me see the list,” she said, recovering her languid manner.
“Certainly, my lady.” He handed her the paper. “The only reason I mentioned Lord Trevanion,” he continued, “was because I happen to know his lordship is one of the most particular men in England, and I couldn’t bear to have things done anyhow when he was dining at the house.”
She laughed in her charming way. “The blood’s on Mr. Donnithorpe’s head, not yours, Rolliter.”
Rolliter had been in her father’s service before she was born and had followed her, as butler, when she married.
“Thank you, my lady,” said he, retiring and leaving her with the list of guests.
It was an instructive and at the same time bewildering document. It contained the names of representatives of all the disgruntled and pacifist factions55 in England. No wonder Edgar dared not face the publicity56 of a club or restaurant dinner! No wonder he had lied to her about his guests. No wonder he had sent Rolliter to the country without writing out the cards. He wanted to hide the identity of his guests even from his butler! At each name a new shiver went down her back. Lord Trevanion, blatant57 millionaire Little Englander whom even the Radical58 Government of 1906 had joyfully59 allowed to purchase a peerage, so as to get him out of the House of Commons. There were Benskin and Pottinger and Atwater, members of a small Parliamentary gang who lost no opportunity of impeding60 the prosecution61 of the war. Lady Edna gasped62. Finch64 of the Independent Labour Party. Was Edgar going mad? Samways, M.P. and Professor of History, pessimistic apostle of German efficiency and preacher of the hopelessness of the Allies’ struggle. Editors of pacifist organs—Featherstone, the most brilliant, whose cranky brain had made him the partisan65 of England’s enemies all through his journalistic career; Fordyce, snaky in his intellectual conceit66; Riordan, dark and suspect. . . . There were others, politicians and publicists, self-proclaimed patriots67 and war-winners, but openly hostile to the Government. Altogether the most amazing crew that ever Minister of the Crown delighted to honour.
That the ultimate object of this gathering68 was the overthrowal of the Government there could be no doubt. How they were going to manage it was another matter. A rabble69 like that, thought Lady Edna scornfully, could not upset a nervous old lady. It looked rather like a preliminary meeting, held in secrecy70, to start the network in which greater personalities71 should be enmeshed and involved. At any rate, on the part of Edgar Donnithorpe it was black treachery. The more she scanned the list the more did her soul sicken within her. It seemed intolerable that this pro-German orgy should take place in the house of which she was the mistress, while she remained here, fooled, with her little week-end party. She burned with vengeance72 against her husband.
It was half-past four. She stood in the drawing-room, which she had entered a few minutes before, leaving her guests on the lawn, in order to give some trivial order, and twisted the accusing paper in her hands, her lips thin, deep in thought. Presently into her eyes crept a smile of malice73, and she went out of the French window and crossed the grass and joined her friends. There were only three, Colonel and Mrs. Barrington and Miss Delamere. A couple of men who were to have come down had providentially been detained in London.
“My dear people,” she said, smiling. “The war has spread to Moulsford. There’s nothing in the house for dinner. There’ll be heaps to-morrow, but none to-night.”
“I’ll go down to the river and angle for a roach,” said Colonel Barrington.
“Or else come with me to town and dine at the Carlton. I’ll take you all in the Rolls-Royce. It will be a lovely run back.”
“But, my dear, it’ll be joy-riding!” cried Mrs. Barrington.
“It will be indeed,” said Lady Edna.
“But suppose we’re held up?”
“I’ll say I have to see my husband on important political business.”
“And I’m a soldier on active service,” said Colonel Barrington, “and must be fed.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” asked Lady Edna.
Mind? Not they. What could be pleasanter on a perfect summer night? Besides, they had not tasted the guilty sweets of joy-riding for many months. It would be an adventure.
They started merrily about six o’clock. Lady Edna was in gay spirits, as though enjoying a schoolgirl’s freak. Through the perfumed leafiness of Streatley, Basildon, Pangbourne, they flew at the high speed of the great car, through Reading and Maidenhead and Slough74, through Hounslow and Brentford. What was fifty miles? As they approached London Lady Edna said:
“Will you think me funny if I look in at Belgrave Square for a minute?”
She spoke75 a word to the chauffeur76. A while later the car swerved to the right from the direct route to Piccadilly, and at eight o’clock pulled up at the Donnithorpes’ house in Belgrave Square. Lady Edna sprang from the car and tripped up the steps.
“I’ll let myself in with my latchkey,” she cried to the chauffeur who was about to ring the bell.
In the hall she threw off her wraps, gave an instinctive77 tidying touch to her hair before a mirror, and walked smiling on her errand. She waved aside the hired stranger men-servants busy with plates outside the dining-room door and boldly entered.
For a second or two no one observed her, then one or two guests caught sight of the slender figure stately in her evening gown, and half rose from their chairs. So the attention of all was called to her. Edgar Donnithorpe, sitting at the head of the table with his back to the door, turned and sprang to his feet with a gasp63. To stay polite commotion78 she laughed and held up her hand.
“Please don’t anyone get up.”
Her husband, in white anger, said:
“I thought you were at Moulsford, Edna. Is anything the matter?”
“Only your dinner party,” she replied with derisive79 graciousness. “I happened to be dining in town, and it occurred to me to look in and see that your guests had everything they wanted—especially”—she scanned the faces deliberately—“as they are all new to the house.”
She bowed and withdrew. Her husband threw down his napkin and followed her. Neither spoke till they reached the hall, when they faced each other.
“I couldn’t make a scene before all those men,” he began.
“Of course you couldn’t. I knew that,” she interrupted.
“But I’ll make one now. By God I will! What do you mean by this outrageous80 behaviour?”
“To queer your game, my friend. I thought it would be amusing to show all your pretty conspirators81 that the gaff was blown.”
“I’m free to ask anyone to my own house. I’m master here, and the sooner you learn it the better. Are you aware that you’ve insulted the whole of my guests?”
“I flattered myself I behaved with peculiar82 courtesy,” said Lady Edna. “It’s you who are being rude to them. You had better go back. Are you coming down to Moulsford to-morrow?”
“No, I’m damned if I am!”
He flung away from her, then turned.
“By God! you shall pay for this.”
“Willingly. It’s worth a lot.”
He glowered83 at her impotently. What scene could he make other than one of vulgar recrimination? She had caught him in a domestic lie and a public act of treachery. For the moment his wife had all the weapons. So they stood there in the rosy84 light of the hall, deadly enemies; she triumphant85, radiant in her scornful beauty; he small, thin, foxy and malignant86. Presently, with a laugh she moved to the front door.
“I never thought you particularly clever, Edgar,” she said. “But in diplomatic crudity87 you could give lessons to the Wilhelmstrasse.”
With which Parthian shot she opened the door and rejoined her friends in the car.
“Forgive me, dear people,” she said, settling in her place. “I’ve been having the time of my life.”
She returned to town with her guests on Monday morning, but did not see her husband until late in the afternoon, when, on his return from the Ministry, he found her alone in her sitting-room.
“My dear Edna,” said he, in a conciliatory tone, “we owe each other a little mutual88 understanding. It’s so undignified to quarrel.”
She put the book she was reading pages downward on her knee.
“You were rather under a misapprehension as to Saturday night.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, “for I was going to ask you a question.”
“What was that?”
“Have you sent in your resignation to the Prime Minister?”
“No, no. Of course not. That’s where your error in judgment90, if I may be allowed to say so, comes in. I’m aware I couldn’t be seen publicly with that crowd. I had to manage a secret meeting. But it was in order to get them on our side. I thought a frank discussion with them might produce good results.”
“Has it?”
“I think so,” said he. “Oh yes, I think so. I’m speaking at Bristol to-night. You’ll see from my speech what my position is. I mean to define it unmistakably.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
She turned away, hating him and despising him more than ever. She passed a hideous91 day, overwhelmed with fears of treason and disaster.
They were justified92 the following morning when, looking through the newspapers brought to her bedside, she first glanced at and then pored over the leading article in the important daily edited by Fordyce, one of the guests at the amazing dinner-party. It was an attack on the Government’s conduct of the war, based, ostensibly, on the rumours93 whose inaccuracy Godfrey had begged her to contradict, but, to those with inner knowledge, on the real facts of the plan of the High Command. It was done with diabolical94 craft. Challenged as to the source of his information, Fordyce could point to the article and defy anyone to prove that he was possessed95 of any esoteric information at all. It was mere37 logical deduction96 from the general trend of the war policy of the Allied97 Military Authorities. And yet the shivering woman knew that the scheme had been divulged98 to Fordyce. How? In terror she sprang from her bed and opened the secret drawer of her desk. The sheet of notepaper was there just as she had left it. For a moment or two she stood, her hand on her breast, laughing in a silly way. Edgar was capable of many things; but not of rifling her private papers. He was capable of betraying the Government to Fordyce, but as a Minister, she reflected, he would possibly be aware of the scheme. As the Saturday evening host he had communicated it to Fordyce. Possibly to others. But no. That would have been madness. A man does not blacken himself to a dozen men at once. The others he had assembled so as to prepare them, in his underhand, insinuating99 way, for this master-stroke. . . . She closed the secret drawer with an impatient snap, and went about the room clenching100 her hands and uttering futile101 words.
No. Life with him henceforth was impossible. She would break away. . . . She had her house at Moulsford, her own income. As for her London life, she could take a suite103 at Claridge’s. In the indignant moment she almost forgot Godfrey. Loathing104 of Edgar overspread all other thoughts. Suddenly she remembered his Bristol speech, and ran through the Times to find the report. Condensed, it contained nothing but the facile, uninspired claptrap that had characterized his public utterances105 since the beginning of his career. He was lying to the country which he had set out to betray. . . . Meanwhile—so her excited fancy told her—he was a peril106 running loose about the world. What could she do? Drive off then and there and denounce him to the Prime Minister? He would certainly ask her why she connected the leader in The Morning Gazette with the dinner-party given to her husband’s political opponents. Whence did she derive107 her knowledge that anything more than conjecture108 underlay109 the criticism in Fordyce’s paper? And she would not have a word to say. Once again she opened the drawer and took out Godfrey’s notes. Better destroy them. Her fingers met in the middle of the sheet prepared to tear. Then she paused. No. She thought of Sir Berkeley Prynne—a man of unstained honour in private and public life. She would go to him, this in her hand, tell the whole story and ask his advice. She thrust the paper back into the drawer, rang for her maid and dressed.
A busy woman’s correspondence kept her occupied all the morning. At half-past twelve came a telephone call from Godfrey:
“When and where can I see you? Something most important.”
“Oh, darling, what is it?” Her voice shook. “Where are you?”
“War Office. I can’t tell you anything over the phone. Besides, I haven’t a minute. I’ll be free in about half an hour.”
“Come round here. I shall be alone.”
“Right.”
He switched off, leaving her in throbbing110 suspense111. Naturally he was coming to her about The Morning Gazette article. To her excited fancy the whole War Office was in a state of blind ferment112 like an ant-heap bombed with a drop of kerosene113. His tone, too, had been brusque, imperious, that of a man dealing114 with crisis. She wished she had gone at once in search of Sir Berkeley Prynne, instead of wasting her morning over correspondence. Still, when one is Chairman and Treasurer115 of practical concerns, their business has to be attended to. She went on with her work, her eyes on the little agate116 clock in front of her.
“Captain Baltazar, my lady.”
They stood for a breathless second until the butler had closed the door behind him. Then he strode up and caught her in his arms. When she could collect herself she looked into dancing, triumphant eyes. A wave of relief swept through her. Suddenly she caught the echo, as it were, of Rolliter’s announcement.
“Captain——?”
“Yes. And more than that. I’m going to France.”
She felt herself grow pale. “My dear——”
“It’s a great stunt,” he said exultantly118. “Northby has got an Army Corps119. He wants me on his staff. I’m going out as the Brainy One, with a step in rank. Old man Widdowes talked to me as if I were an infant Haig. You could have knocked me down with a bunch of straw.”
“I’m so glad, dear. I’m so glad you’ve got what you want.”
“My God, yes!” said he, all aglow120. “It’s the best thing a one-footed cripple has done up to now. The W.O. isn’t the real thing. Out there it is. As soon as I met you, I swore I’d make good. To be worthy121 of you, if such a thing is possible.”
“I’m a proud woman,” said Lady Edna. “But I don’t understand—General Northby—I never heard——”
“Of course you didn’t. Neither did I. It was all secrecy and suddenness.”
He explained roughly the circumstances.
“And when do you go out?”
“In three days’ time. I’m on leave till then.”
“Three days?” She looked at him aghast. “And then you go away indefinitely?”
She paused, drew a long breath or two, and sank limply into a chair. He looked at her rather wonderingly.
“What about me, Godfrey?”
In the gratification of his wildest boyish ambitions he had forgotten her woman’s point of view. He had expected her to share his elation122. Remorseful123, he bent124 quickly over her, reddening and stammering125. He was a selfish brute. Did he really matter so much to her? If she would but say the word, he would go straight back and refuse the appointment.
“Don’t talk like a child,” she said. “If you did such a thing, we should despise each other for the rest of our lives. But three days—only three days! And I’m at my wits’ end with unhappiness.”
He sank lover-like by her side and took her hand. What was wrong?
“Have you seen The Morning Gazette?”
He laughed. “Oh yes! There’s a hell of a hullabaloo! But the beauty of it is, that the whole thing went fut three or four days ago. I can’t tell you why. We’re working out quite a different plan. All the same, there’s loud cursing in the camp.” He looked at her with one of his swift man’s glances. “Of course, dearest—I’m bound to ask—you never breathed a word to anybody of what I told you?”
“Not a word.”
“And you destroyed that paper at once?”
“Of course.”
The lie was out before she realized it. Well, it didn’t matter. The thing was obsolete126. She would tear it up. No. She wouldn’t. She still had to wage her war against her husband, with the aid of Sir Berkeley Prynne, and the document would be of great value.
“It was he who gave it away to the editor of The Morning Gazette,” she said, vindictively127.
“But how the deuce could he have known?” asked Godfrey. “These things are dead secrets. They never go beyond the Army Council.”
“He did know, anyhow. I’ve not seen you since. I’ve a lot to tell you.”
“My God! what a swine! You must leave him.”
“I’m going to. I’m going to hound him out of public life.”
“And then?”
“It’s for you to say.”
An hour later Godfrey ran down the steps of the house in Belgrave Square, his head in a whirl.
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scramble
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exhausted
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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drizzle
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overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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hood
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hysterically
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miserable
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brute
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filthy
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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wailed
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illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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swerved
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imminent
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torrents
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lathered
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intrigue
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idiotic
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humiliated
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jealousy
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beset
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24
amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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25
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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26
amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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27
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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28
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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29
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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30
tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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31
mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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32
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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33
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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34
conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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35
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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36
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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37
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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38
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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39
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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40
modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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41
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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42
hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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43
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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44
gibe
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| n.讥笑；嘲弄 | |
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45
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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46
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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47
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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48
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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49
hacks
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| 黑客 | |
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50
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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51
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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52
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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53
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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54
anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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55
factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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56
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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57
blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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58
radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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59
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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60
impeding
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| a.(尤指坏事)即将发生的，临近的 | |
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61
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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62
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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63
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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64
finch
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| n.雀科鸣禽(如燕雀，金丝雀等) | |
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65
partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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66
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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67
patriots
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| 爱国者，爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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68
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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69
rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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70
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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71
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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72
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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73
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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74
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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75
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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76
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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77
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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78
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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79
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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80
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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81
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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82
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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83
glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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85
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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86
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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87
crudity
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| n.粗糙，生硬；adj.粗略的 | |
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88
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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89
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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91
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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92
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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93
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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94
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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95
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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96
deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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97
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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98
divulged
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| v.吐露，泄露( divulge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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100
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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101
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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102
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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103
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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104
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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105
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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106
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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107
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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108
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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109
underlay
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| v.位于或存在于（某物）之下( underlie的过去式 )；构成…的基础（或起因），引起n.衬垫物 | |
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110
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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111
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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112
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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113
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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114
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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115
treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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116
agate
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| n.玛瑙 | |
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117
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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118
exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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119
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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120
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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121
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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122
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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123
remorseful
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| adj.悔恨的 | |
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124
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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125
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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126
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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127
vindictively
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| adv.恶毒地；报复地 | |
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128
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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