“For de highly-brivileged nopleman who hos dis day gonferred ubon de brightest oond lofliest ornamend of de London sdage a disdinguished name oond an ancient didle I hof noding put gongradulations,” said Mr. Funkstein, balancing himself upon the tips of his patent-leather toes, and thrusting his left hand (hairy and adorned10 with rings of price) in between the jeweled buttons of his large, double-breasted buff waistcoat. “For de sdage oond de pooblic dot will lose de most prilliant star dot has efer dwinkled on de sdage of de West Enf Deatre I hof nodings poot gommiseration. As de manacher of dot blayhouse I feel vit de pooblic. 296As de friend—am I bermitted to say de lofing oond baternal friend of de late Miss Betsie le Boyntz?”—(tumultuous applause checked the current of the speaker’s eloquence)—“changed poot dis day in de dwingling of an eye—in de hooding13 of a modor-horn—by de machick of a simble ceremony at de Registrar’s—gonverted from a yoong kirl in de first dender ploom”—(deafening bravos hailed this flight of poetic14 imagination)—“de first dender ploom of peauty oond de early brime of chenius”—(the lady-guests produced their handkerchiefs)—“into a yoong vife, desdined ere long to wear upon her lofely prow15 de goronet of an English Gountess”—(Otto began to weep freely)—“a Gountess of Pomphrey.... Potztauzend! de dears dey choke me. Mine dear vriends, I gannot go on.”
Everybody patted Funkstein upon the back at once. Everybody uttered something consoling at an identical moment. Mopping his streaming features with the largest white cambric handkerchief ever seen, the manager was about to resume, when Lord Rustleton—whose tragic16 demeanor17 at the Registrar’s Office had created a subdued18 sensation among the officials there, whose deep depression during the wedding banquet had been intensified19 rather than alleviated20 by frequent bumpers21 of champagne, and who had gradually collapsed22 in his chair during Funkstein’s address until little save his hair and features remained above the level of the tablecloth24, galvanically rose and, with a soft attempt to thump25 the table, cried: “Order!”
“Choke him off,” murmured a smart comedian26 to his neighbor, “for pity’s sake. He’s going to tell us how he threw over the swell27 girl he was engaged to a month before their wedding—for Petsie’s sake; and how he has brought his parents’ gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, and for ever forfeited29 the right to call himself an English gentleman. I know, bless you! I had it all from 297him last night at the Mummers’ Club, and this morning at his rooms in Wigmore Street.”
“Rustleton!”
“Order!” yelled Rustleton again.
“Order!” echoed Funkstein, turning a circular pair of rather bibulous30 and bloodshot blue eyes upon the protestant bridegroom. “Oond vy order?”
“Permimme to reminyou,” said Rustleton, with laborious31 distinctness, “that the present Head of my fammary, the Rironaurable the Earl of Pomphrey—in poinnofac’, my Fara—is at the present momen’ of speaking in the enjoymen’ of exhallent health, an’ nowistanning present painfully strained rela’ions essisting bi’ween us, I have no desire—nor, I feel convinned, has my wife, Lady Rustleton, any desire—to, in poinnofac’, usurp32 his shoes, or play leapfrog over his—in poinnofac’, his coffin33. Therefore, the referen’ of the distinnwished gelleman who, in poinnofac’, holds the floor, to the coronet of a Countess in premature34 conneshion with the brow of my newly-marriwife I am compelled to regard as absorrutely ram35 bad form!”
Rustleton leaned over the table. His eyes were set in a leaden-hued countenance38. His hair hung lankly39 over his damp forehead. He nerved himself for a supreme41 effort. “Ununerrarrably ram baform!” he said, and with this polysyllabic utterance42 fell into a crystal dish of melted ice, and a comatose43 condition.
“Bad, bad boy!” said the recently-made Lady Rustleton, biting her notorious cherry underlip, and darting44 a brilliant glance at Funkstein out of her celebrated45 eyes as Rustleton was snatched from his perilous46 position by a strong-armed chorus beauty; and the low comedian, who had become famous since the production of The Charity Girl, dried the Viscount’s head with a table-napkin and propped47 him firmly in his chair.
298“It is not de Boy, but de man dat drinks it,” giggled48 Funkstein, with recovered good temper. “Ach ja, oond also de voman. How many bints hof I not seen you....”
“That’ll do, thanks,” said the newly-made Viscountess, with her well-known expression of prim49 propriety50. “Not so much reminiscing, you know; it’s what poor Tonnie called ‘ahem’d bad form’ just now, didn’t you, ducky?”
“Don’t call me rucky,” said the gentleman addressed, who was now rapidly lapsing51 into the lachrymose52 stage of his complaint. “Call me a mirerrable worm or a ‘fernal villain53. I reserve both names. Doesn’ a man who has alienarid the affeshuns of his father, blirid his mother’s fonnest hopes, and broken his pli’rid word to a fonnanloving woman—girl, by Jingo——”
“Oh, do dry up about that now, darling!” said Lady Rustleton tartly54. “I dare say she deserved what she got. What you have to remember now is that you’re married to me, and we shall be spinning away in the Liverpool Express in another hour, en route for the ocean wave. I always said, when I did have a honeymoon55—a real one—I’d have it on the opening week of the production on a big Atlantic liner. And this is the trial voyage of the Regent Street, and she’s the biggest thing in ships afloat to-day. Do let’s drink her health!”
The toast was drunk with enthusiasm. Two waiters advanced bearing a wedding-cake upon a charger. The bride coyly cut a segment from the mass. It was divided and passed round. The ladies took pieces to dream on, the men shied at the indigestible morsels56. Somebody had the bright idea of sending a lump to the chauffeur57 of the bridal motor-car, which had been waiting in the bright October sunshine, outside in the palm-adorned courtyard, since one o’clock. A chassé of cognac went round. Rustleton was shaken into consciousness of his marital58 299responsibilities and a fur-lined overcoat; everybody kissed Petsie; all the women cried, Petsie included—but not unbecomingly. Her bridal gown, a walking-costume of white cloth trimmed with silver braid, contained a thoroughly59 contented60 young woman; her hat, a fascinating creation, trimmed with a rose-colored bird, a marquisette, and a real lace veil, crowned a completely happy wife. Tonnie possessed61 nothing extraordinary in the way of good looks or good brains, it was true; but Tonnie’s wife was wealthy in these physical attributes. He possessed a high-nosed, aristocratic old fossil of a father, whose prejudices against a daughter-in-law taken from the lyric62 boards must be got over. He owned a perfectly63 awful mother, whose ancestral pride and whose three chins must—nay, should—be leveled with the dust. His sisters, the Ladies Pope-Baggotte, Petsie said to herself with a smile, were foewomen unworthy of such steel as is forged in the coulisses of the musical comedy theaters. Yet should they, too, bite the dust. In a golden halo—partly hope, partly champagne—she saw Lady Rustleton sweeping64, attired in electrifying65 gowns, onwards to the conquest of Society. The greengrocer’s shop in Camberwell, among whose cabbages and potatoes her infancy66 had been passed; the Board-School, on whose benches the first-fruits of knowledge had been garnered67, were quite forgotten. Some other little circumstances connected with the Past were blotted68 from the slate69 of memory by the perfumed sponge of gratified ambition. She bore the deluge70 of rice and confetti with dazzling equanimity71. She hummed “Buzzy, Buzzy, Busy Bee” as the motor-car, its chauffeur sorely embarrassed by a giant wedding favor, a pair of elderly slippers72 tied on the rear-axle, sped to Euston.
“I’ve got there at last,” said Petsie, as the Express ran into the Liverpool docks and toiling73 human ants began to climb up the ship’s gangways thrust downwards74 300from the beetling75 gray sides of the biggest of all modern liners. “I’ve got there at last, I have, and in spite of Billy Boman. A precious little silly I must have been to take a hairdresser for a swell; but at seventeen what girl brought up in a Camberwell backstreet knows a paste solitaire from a real diamond, or a ready-made suit, bought for thirty bob at a Universal Supply Stores, from a Bond Street one? And if nice curly hair and a straight nose, a clear skin, and a good figure were all that’s wanted to make a gentleman, Billy could have sported himself along with the best. But now he’s dead, and I’ve married again into the Peerage, and I shall sit on the Captain’s right at the center saloon table, not only as the prettiest woman on board his big new ship, but as a bride and a Viscountess into the bargain. Wake up, Tonnie dear. You’ve slept all the way from Euston, and there’s a plank76 to climb.”
“Eh?” Tonnie stared with glassy eyes at the scurrying77 crowds of human figures, the piled-up trucks of giant trunks and dress-baskets soaring aloft at the end of donkey-engine cables, to vanish into the bowels78 of the marine79 leviathan. “Eh! What! Hang it! How confoundedly my head aches! Funkstein must have given us a brutally80 unwholesome luncheon. Why did I allow him to entertain us? I felt from the first it was a hideous81 mistake.”
“Why did you let the fellows persuade you to drink more of the Boy than is good for you, you soft-headed old darling?” Petsie gurgled. She smoothed the lank40 hair of her new-made spouse82, and, reaching down his hat from the netting, crowned him with it, and bounded out of the reserved first-class compartment83 like a lively little rubber ball. “Here’s Timms, your man, with my new maid. No, thank you, Simpkins. You can take the traveling-bags. I may be a woman of title, but I mean to carry my jewel-case myself. Come along into the 301Ark, Tonnie, with the other couples. What number did you say belonged to our cabin, darling?”
“The Gobelin Tapestry84 Bridal Suite85 Number Four,” said Rustleton, with a pallid86 smile, as a white-capped, gold-banded official hurried forward to relieve the Viscountess of her coroneted jewel-case.
“How tweedlums!” sighed Petsie, retaining firm hold of the leather repository of her brand-new diamond tiara and necklace, not to mention all the rings and brooches and bangles reaped from the admiring occupants of the orchestra-stalls at the West End Theatre during the tumultuously successful run of The Charity Girl.
“It costs for the trip—five days, four hours, and sixteen minutes—between Queenstown and the Daunts87 Rock Lightship,” said Rustleton, with a heavy groan88, “exactly two hundred and seventy-five guineas. Ha, ha!” He laughed hollowly.
“But why did you choose such a screamingly swell suite, you wicked, wasteful89 duckums?” cried the bride coquettishly, as their guide switched on the electric light and revealed a chaste90 and sumptuous91 nest of apartments in carved and inlaid mahogany, finished in white enamel92 with artistic93 touches of gold, and hung with tapestry of a greeny-blue and livid flesh-color.
“Because I can’t afford it,” said the dismal94 bridegroom, “and because the meals and all that will be served here separately and privately95.” He sank limply upon a sumptuous lounge, and hurled96 an extinct cigarette-end into an open fireplace surrounded by beaten brass97 and crowned by a mantel in rose-colored marble. “The execrable ordeal98 of the first cabin dining-room, with its crowds of gross, commonplace, high-spirited, hungry feeders will thus be spared us. You need never set foot in the Ladies’ Drawing-room; the Lounge and the Smoking-room shall equally be shunned99 by me. Exercise on the Promenade100 Deck is a necessity. We shall 302take it daily, and take it together, my incognito101 preserved by a motor-cap and goggles102, your privacy ensured by a silk—two silk—veils.” He smiled wanly103. “I have roughly laid down these lines, formulated104 this plan, for the maintenance of our privacy without making any allowance for the exigencies105 of the weather and the condition of the sea. But if I should be prostrated—and I am an exceedingly bad sailor at the best of times—remember, dearest, that a tumbler of hot water administered every ten minutes, alternately with a slice of iced lemon, should feverish106 symptoms intervene, is not a panacea107, but an alleviation108, as my cousin, Hambridge Ost, would say. I rather wonder what Hambridge is saying now. He possesses an extraordinary faculty109 of being scathingly sarcastic110 at the expense of persons who deserve censure111. An unpleasant sensation in my spine112 gives me the impression—do you ever have those impressions?—that he is exercising that faculty now—and at my expense. Timms, I will ask you to unpack113 my dressing-gown and papooshes, and then, if you, my darling, do not object, I will lie down comfortably in my own room and have a cup of tea. If I might make a suggestion, dearest, it is that you would tell your maid to get out your dressing-gown and your slippers, and lie down comfortably in your own room and have a cup of tea.”
The twenty-six thousand ton Atlantic flyer moved gracefully114 down the Mersey, the last flutter of handkerchiefs died away on the stage, the last head was pulled back over the vessel115’s rail, the seething116 tumult12 of settling down reduced itself to a hive-like buzzing. The Regent Street’s passenger-list comprised quite a number of notabilities connected with Art and the Drama, a promising117 crop of American millionaires, an ex-Viceroy of India, and a singularly gifted orang-utan, the biggest sensation of the London season, who had dined with the Lord Mayor and Corporation at the Mansion118 House, 303and was now crossing the ocean to fulfill119 a roof-garden engagement in New York, and be entertained at a freak supper by six of the supreme leaders of American Society. Petsie pondered the passenger-list with a pouting120 lip. She heard from her enraptured121 maid of the glories of the floating palace in which the first week of her honeymoon was to be spent as she sipped122 the cup of tea recommended by Rustleton.
“Lifts to take you up and down stairs, silver-gilt and enamel souvenirs given to everybody free, Turkish baths, needle baths, electric baths, hairdressing and manicuring saloons, millinery establishments, a theater with a stock company who don’t know what sea-sickness means, jewelers’ shops, florists123, and Fuller’s, a palmist, and a thought-reader. Goodness! the gay old ship must be a floating London, with fish and things squattering about underneath124 one’s shoe-heels instead of ‘phone-wires and electric-light cables. And I’m shut up like a blooming pearl in an oyster125, instead of running about and looking at everything. Oh, Simpkie’—Simpkins, the new maid, had been a dresser at the West End Theatre—“I’m dying for the chance of a little flutter on my own, and how am I to get it?”
The Regent Street gave a long, stately, sliding dive forwards as a mammoth126 roller of St. George’s Channel swept under her sky-scraping stern. A long, plaintive127 moan—forerunner of how many to come!—sounded from the other side of the partition dividing the apartments of the bride from that of her newly-wedded lord.
“I think you’re goin’ to get it, my lady,” said the demure128 Simpkins, as Rustleton’s man knocked at his mistress’s door to convey the intimation that his lordship preferred not to dine.
A head-wind and a heavy sea combined, during the next three days of the voyage, to render Rustleton a prey129 to agonies which are better imagined than described. 304While he imbibed130 hot water and nibbled131 captain’s biscuits, or lay prone132 and semi-conscious in the clutches of the hideous malady133 of the wave, Lady Rustleton, bright-eyed, petite, and beautifully dressed, paraded the promenade deck with a tail of male and female cronies, played at quoits and croquet, to the delight of select audiences, and sat in sheltered corners after dinner, well out of the radius134 of the electric light, sometimes with two or three, generally with one, of the best-looking victims of her bow and spear. She sat on the Captain’s right hand at the center table, outrageously135 bedecked with diamonds. She played in a musical sketch136 and sang at a charity concert. “Buzzy, Buzzy, Busy Bee” was thenceforth to be heard in every corner of the vast maritime138 hotel that was hurrying its guests Westward139 at the utmost speed of steel and steam. Fresh bouquets140 of Malmaison carnations141, roses and violets from the Piccadilly florists, were continually heaped upon her shrine142, dainty jeweled miniature representations of the Regent Street’s house-flag, boxes of choice bonbons143 showered upon her like rain. The celebrated orang-utan occupied the chair next hers at a special banquet, the newest modes in millinery found their way mysteriously to her apartment, if she had but tried them on, smiled, and, with the inimitable Petsie wink11 at the reflection of her own provokingly pretty features in the shop mirror, approved.
“I keep forgetting I’m a married woman,” she would say, with the Petsie smile, when elderly ladies of the cat-like type, and middle-aged28 men who were malicious145, inquired after the health of the invisible Lord Rustleton. “But he’s there, poor dear; or as much as is left of him. Quite contented if he gets his milk and beef-juice, and the hot water comes regularly, and there’s a slice of lemon to suck. No; I’m afraid I can’t give him your kind message of sympathy, you know, because sympathy is too disturbing, he says.... He doesn’t even 305like me to ask him if he’s feeling bad, because, as he tells me, I have only to look at him to know that he is, poor darling.”
Thus prattled146 the bride, even ready to faire l’ingénue for the benefit of even an audience of one. The voyage agreed with Petsie. Her complexion6, dulled by make-up, assumed a healthier tint147; her eyes and smile grew brighter, even as the ruddy gold faded from her abundant hair. The end of this story would have been completely different had not the tricksy sea-air brought about this deplorable change.
“I’m getting dreadfully rusty148, as you say, Simpkie; and if the man in the hairdresser’s shop on the Promenade Deck Arcade149 can give me a shampoodle and touch me up a bit—quite an artist is he, and quite the gentleman? Oh, very well, I’ll look in on my gentleman-artist between breakfast and bouillon.”
Petsie did look in. The artist’s studio, elegantly hung with heavy pink plush curtains, only contained, besides a shampooing-basin, a large mirror, a nickel-silver instrument of a type between a chimney-cowl and a ship’s ventilator, and a client’s chair, a young person of ingratiating manners, who offered Lady Rustleton the chair, and enveloping150 her dainty person in a starchy pink wrapper, touched a bell, and saying, “The operator will attend immediately, moddam,” glided151 noiselessly away. Petsie, approvingly surveying her image in the mirror, did not hear a male footstep behind her. But as the head and shoulders of the operator rose above the level of her topmost waves, and his reflected gaze encountered her own, she became ghastly pale beneath her rose-bloom, and with a little choking cry of recognition gasped152 out:
“Bill ... Boman! ... it can’t be you?”
“The old identical same,” Mr. William Boman said, with a cheerful smile. “And if the shock has made you 306giddy, I can turn on the basin-hose in half a tick, and give you a splash of cold as a reviver. Will you have it? No? Then don’t faint, that’s all.”
“You wrote to say you were dying at Dieppe five years ago,” sobbed153 Petsie, into the folds of the pink calico wrapper. “You wicked, cruel man, you know you did!”
“And now you’re crying because I didn’t die,” said Mr. Boman, arranging his sable154 forehead-curls in the glass, and complacently155 twirling a highly-waxed mustache. “No pleasing you women. You never know what you want, strikes me.”
“But somebody sent me a French undertaker’s bill for a first-class funeral, nearly thirty pounds it came to when we’d got the francs down to sovereigns,” moaned Petsie, “and I paid it.”
“That was my little dodge,” said Mr. Boman calmly, “to get a few yellow-birds to go on with. Trouble I’d got into—don’t say any more about it, because I am a reformed character now. And now we’re talking about characters, what price yours, my Lady Rustleton?”
“Oh, Billy!”
“Bigamy ain’t a pretty word, but that’s what it comes to, as I’ve said to myself many an evening as I smoked my cigar on the second-class deck promenade, and heard you singing away in there to the swells157 in the music-room like a—like a cage full of canaries. I shan’t make no scene nor nothing like that, says I. Her hair’s getting a bit off color—see it by daylight, she’ll have to come my way before long, and then I shall tip her the ghost with a vengeance158.”
“Oh, Bill dear, how could you be so cruel!” pleaded Petsie.
“Not so much of the ‘Bill dear,’ I’ll trouble you,” said Mr. Boman sternly. “Why don’t you produce that aristocratic corpse159 you’ve married, and let me have it 307out with him? Seasick160, is he? I’ll make him land-sick before I’ve done with him, and so I tell you. He’ll have to sell some of his blooming acres to satisfy me, or some of them diamonds of yours, my lady.”
But at this juncture161 the delayed attack of hysteria swooped162 upon its victim. Summoning his young lady-assistant, Mr. Boman, with a few injunctions, placed the patient in her care. Then brushing a few bronze-hued hairs from his frock-coat, removing his dapper apron163, and tidying his hair with a rapid application of the brush, he winked164 as one well pleased, and betook himself to Gobelin Tapestry Bridal Suite Number Four, in the character of a Messenger of Fate.
Three hours later the news had leaked out all over the Regent Street. The great vessel buzzed like a wasps’-nest, and the utmost resources of wireless165 telegraphy were taxed to communicate to sister ships upon the ocean and fellow-men upon the nearest land the astounding166 fact of the sudden collapse23 of the Rustleton marriage, owing to the arrival on the scene of a previous husband of the lady.
“Ach Himmel! it is klorious!” gasped Funkstein, waving a pale blue paper, “I haf here Petsie’s reply to de offer of de Syindigate—she comes to de Vest End Theatre; at an advanced salary returns—and de house will be cram-jammed to de doors for anoder tree hoondred berformances. It is an ill vind dot to nopody plows167 goot, mark my vords!”
Lord Pomphrey had just given utterance to a similar sentiment; Rustleton, on the other side of the Atlantic, had previously168 arrived at a like conclusion. Mr. Boman had entertained the same view from the outset of affairs. Petsie—again Le Poyntz—realizing the gigantic advertisement that the resurrection of her first proprietor169 involved, was gradually becoming reconciled to the situation. When all the characters of a tale are made content, is it not time the narrative170 came to a close?
308
“CLOTHES—AND THE MAN—!”
The smoking-room of the Younger Sons’ Club, the bow-windows of which command a view of Piccadilly, contained at the hour of two-thirty its full complement171 of habitual172 nicotians, who, seated in the comfortable armchairs, recumbent on the leather divans173, or grouped upon the hearthrug, lent their energies with one accord to the thickening of the atmosphere.
Hambridge Ost, a small, drab-hued man with a triangular174 face, streakily-brushed hair, champagne-bottle shoulders, and feet as narrow as boot-trees without the detachable side-pieces, invariably encased in the shiniest of patent leathers,—Hambridge, from behind a large green cigar, was giving a select audience of very young and callow listeners the benefit of his opinions upon dress.
“If I proposed to jot175 down the small events of my insignificant176 private life, dear fellers, or had the gift—supposing I did commit ’em to paper—of makin’ ’em interesting ...” said Hambridge, raising his eyebrows177 to the edge of his carefully parted hair and letting them down again, “I don’t mind telling you, dear fellers, that the resultant volume or two would mark an epoch178 in autobiographical literature. But, like the violet—so to put it—I have, up to the present, preferred to blush unseen. Not that the violet can blush anything but purple—or blue in frosty weather, but the simile179 has up to now always held good in literature. Lord Pomphrey—a man appreciative180 to a degree of the talents of his relatives—has said to me a thousand times if one, ‘Confound you, Hambridge, why is not that, or this, or the 309other, so to put it, in print?’ But Pomphrey may be partial——”
“No, no!” exclaimed, in a very deep bass181, a very young man in a knitted silk waistcoat and a singularly brilliant set of pimples182. “No, no!”
“Much obliged, dear fellow,” said Hambridge, hoisting183 his eyebrows and letting them drop in his characteristic manner. “Some of my views may possess originality—even freshness when expressed, as I invariably express ’em, in a perfectly commonplace manner.”
“No, no!” again exclaimed the pimply-faced owner of the deep bass voice.
“As to the Ethics184 of the Crinoline, now,” went on Hambridge, “I observe that an energetic effort is being made—in a certain quarter and amongst a certain coterie—to revive the discarded hoops185 of 1855–66. They did their best to impart a second vitality186 to the Early Victorian poke-bonnet187 some years ago. Why did the effort fail, dear fellers? Because, with their accompanying garniture of modesty188, blushes were considered necessary to the feminine equipment at the date I have mentioned. And because blushes—I speak on the most reliable authority—are more difficult to simulate than tears. Also because, looking down the pink silk-lined tunnel of the poke-bonnet of 1855–66, it was impossible for you, as an ordinary male creature, to decide whether the rosy189 glow invading the features of the woman you adored—we adored women, dear fellows, at that period—was genuine or the reverse. There you have in a nutshell the reason why the poke-bonnet was not welcomed at the dawn of the twentieth century. Modesty and blushes, dear fellers, are out of date.”
Hambridge leaned back in his chair with an air of mild triumph, running his movable eye—the left was rigidly190 fixed191 behind his monocle—over the faces of the listeners.
310“Will the woman of the Twentieth Century willingly enclose her legs—they were limbs in 1855–66—once more in the steel-barred calico cage, fifteen feet in circumference192, if not more, that contained the woman of the Early Victorian Era? Dear fellers, the question furnishes material for an interestin’ debate. In my young days there was no sittin’ in ladies’ pockets, no cosy-cornering, so to put it. You invariably kept at a respectful distance from the young creature whom you, more or less ardently—we could be ardent193 in those days—desired to woo and win, simply because you couldn’t get nearer. You didn’t approach her mother for permission to pay your addresses-her mother was encased in a similar panoply194. You went to her father, because you could get at him—there you have the plain, simple reason of the custom of ‘askin’ Papa.’ And if you were reprehensibly desirous of eloping with another fellow’s wife, you didn’t express your wish in words. You wrote a letter invitin’ her to fly with you—we called it flying in those days—and dropped it in the post. If the lady disapproved195, she dropped you. If not, she bolted with you in a chaise with four or a pair—and even then her crinoline kept you at a distance. You were no more at liberty to put your arm round her waist than if the eye of Early Victorian Society had been glued upon you.
“To put forward another reason contra the reacceptance of the crinoline by the Woman of To-day, dear fellers, the Woman of To-day can swim. Therefore, the advantage of being dressed practically in a lifebuoy, does not appeal to her as it did early in the previous reign156. I could quote you an instance of an accident which occurred to the Dover and Calais paddle-wheel steam-packet, on board which I happened to be a passenger, which, owing to the negligence196 of the captain, ran ashore197 upon a sandbank half a mile from the pier198. 311The first boat which was lowered was filled with lady passengers, all in crinolines. It was swamped by a wave which washed over the stern. The steersman and the sailors who were rowing were unluckily snatched to a watery199 grave, poor fellows. Not so the women passengers of the swamped boat, dear creatures, who simply floated, keeping hold of one another’s scarves and bonnet-strings, and so forth137, until they could be picked up and conveyed ashore. Not one of ’em could swim a stroke—and all were saved, thanks to the crinoline in which each was attired. But, useful as under certain circumstances the birdcage may be, the Twentieth Century Woman will never be tempted200 back into it. She has learned what it is to have muscles and to use ’em, dear fellers! and the era of languid inertia201 is over for her.
“I will add, dear fellers, that in these drab and uncommonly203 dismal days of early December, the dash of color now perceptible in the clothes of the best dressed men present at social functions of the superior sort, adds largely to the cheeriness of the scene. Cela me fait cet effet, dear fellers, but of course I may be wrong. And the first man to adopt and appear in the newest style in evenin’ dress—a bright blue coat of fine faced cloth, with black velvet204 collar, velvet cuffs205, and silk facin’s, worn with trousers of the same material, braided with black down the side seams, and a V-cut vest of white Irish silk poplin-has realized a fortune through it.
“A well-known man, dear fellers, connected with two old Tory families of the highest distinction, educated at Eton, popular at the University-where he did not allow his love of study to interfere206 with the more serious pursuit of sport—d’ye take me? Suppose we call him Eric de Peauchamp-Walmerdale. His marriage took place yesterday at St. Neot’s, Knightsbridge, the sacred edifice207 bein’ decorated with large lilies and white chrysanthemums208, 312and the gatherin’ of guests surprisingly large—the biggest crush of the Season as yet. There were six little girl-bridesmaids in pale blue, with diamond lockets, and the bride’s train was carried by four pages, also in pale blue, with gold-headed canes209. As for the bride, considerin’ her age—a cool seventy—surprisin’, dear fellers! Only daughter and heiress of an ex-butler, who invented a paste for cleanin’ plate, patented it, and became a millionaire, Isaac Shyne, Esq., M.P., of The Beeches210, Wopsley, and 710, Park Lane, deceased ten years ago at the ripe age of ninety.
“De Peauchamp-Walmerdale’s married sister lived next door to the rich Miss Shyne, who practically went nowhere, and only received her Nonconformist minister, and a few whist-playin’ friends of the same denomination211 on certain specified212 evenin’s. House absolutely Early Victorian—walnut-wood drawing-room suite, upholstered in green silk rep, mahogany and brown leather for the dinin’-room. Berlin woolwork curtains, worked by the mistress of the house, at all the front windows. Three parrots, two poodles, and a pair of King Charles spaniels of the obsolete213 miniature breed. Maid-servants—all elderly, butler like a bishop214, uncommon202 good cellar of gouty old Madeiras and sherries, laid down by the defunct215 Shyne, awful collection of pictures by Smith, Jones, Brown, and Robinson, splendid plate, too heavy to lift. And a fortune of one hundred and fifty thousand in the most reliable Home Rails and breweries216, besides an estate of sixty thousand acres in Crannshire, and the title deeds of the Park Lane house.
“It came—the idea of bringing Miss Shyne and De Peauchamp-Walmerdale together—like a flash of inspiration—as the dear feller’s sister, Lady Tewsminster, told me yesterday when people had struggled up after the Psalm217, and yawned through the address, not delivered by a Nonconformist, but by the Bishop of Baxterham; 313and while the choir218 were singin’, ‘O Perfect Love!’ She was frightfully cast down when she discovered through her maid, who had scraped, under orders, an acquaintance with Miss Shyne’s elderly confidential220 attendant, that her lady objected to young gentlemen—couldn’t endure the sight, so to put it, of anything masculine under fifty, or without a bulge221 under the waistcoat, and a bald top to its head. Further inquiries222 elicited223 that Miss Shyne had had a disappointment in early life, and wore at the back of an old-fashioned cameo brooch, representin’ the ‘Choice of Paris,’ the portrait on ivory of a handsome young man with fair hair, the livin’ image of Eric de Peauchamp-Walmerdale, in a light blue tail-coat, with a black velvet collar and gold buttons, holding a King Charles spaniel of the miniature breed under his arm.
“Dear fellers, Lady Tewsminster, the evening upon which she received this item of information, knew no more than a newly-born infant what she was going to do with it. As happens to most of us, she mentally filed it for further reference, and getting into her gown, her diamonds, and her evening coiffure—those Etruscan rolled curls are extremely becoming to a woman of pronounced outlines, and there’s only one place in London, she tells me, where they can be bought or redressed—went down to the drawing-room.
“A small but select party had been invited for the evenin’, including, on the feminine side, an American heiress on the lookout224 for a husband with a title—or, at least, the next heir to one-a handsome widow with a fairly decent jointure, and a couple of marriageable girls with almost quite respectable dots. From these, carefully collected on approval by a devoted225 sister, De Peauchamp-Walmerdale might, who knows? have selected a life partner, and sunk into the obscurity of moderate means for ever, had it not occurred to him 314upon that particular evening—do you take me, dear fellers?—to array himself in the latest cry of modern masculine evening dress.
“He was standing226 on the hearthrug when Lady Tewsminster entered, a tall, slim, youthful figure, fair-haired and complexioned, and quite uncommonly handsome, in his light blue coat with the black velvet collar, braided accompaniments, and pearl-buttoned, watch-chainless, white silk vest.
“‘How do you like me, Ju, old girl?’ he said, coming to kiss her. ‘I’ve come to dine in character as our great-grandfather. Awful fool I feel, but my tailor insisted on my wearin’ ’em, and as I owe the brute227 a frightful219 bill I thought I’d best appease228 him by givin’ in.’
“The gilded229 Early Victorian frame of the high mantel-mirror behind De Peauchamp-Walmerdale had the effect of being a frame, if you foller me, out of which, the figure of the dear feller had stepped. A cameo brooch shot into the mind of Lady Tewsminster, above it the long narrow face and dowdy230 black lace bonnet of the heiress, Miss Jane Ann Shyne. A plan of campaign was instantly formulated in the mind of that surprising woman. She stepped to one of the windows commandin’ Park Lane, drew aside the blind, and saw, paddlin’ up and down on the rainy pavement outside, the waterproofed231 figure of Miss Shyne’s confidential maid, taking the King Charles spaniels and the poodles for their customary evenin’ ta-ta. Instantly she touched the bell, sent for her maid and said to her in a rapid undertone, ‘Johnson, ten pounds are yours if you can steal one of Miss Shyne’s pet King Charles spaniels while their attendant is not looking. There is no risk—I shall send the creature back in ten minutes. Will you undertake this? Yes? Very well, go and get the beast.’
“The maid, Johnson, departed swiftly, the area-gate 315clicked, and Lady Tewsminster, feverish with the great project boiling under her transformation232, paced the drawing-room until she heard the second click of the gate. She swept down the stairs to meet Johnson, in whose black silk apron struggled the smallest of the King Charles spaniels. ‘Did the woman see?’ whispered the mistress. ‘Not a bit of her, my lady,’ returned the maid. ‘She was gossiping with the District Police-Inspector about a burglary they’ve had three doors away. So I got Tottles—that’s his name, my lady-quite easy, not being on a lead.’
“Telling the maid the promised ten pounds should be hers that night, Lady Tewsminster snatched the struggling ‘Tottles’ from the enveloping apron and swept back to her drawing-room to carry out her plan. ‘Peachie dear,’ she said as she entered, ‘it would be frightfully sweet of you if you would run in next door and carry this little beast to its owner, Miss Shyne. Insist on seeing her; do not give the animal into any other hands; do not wear your hat or an overcoat. I am firm upon this; and remember,’ she fixed her large, expressive233 eyes full upon her brother’s face, ‘remember, she has nearly two hundred thousand pounds, and your fate is in your own hands!... Go!’
“Rather bewildered by Lady Tewsminster’s almost tragic address, De Peauchamp-Walmerdale took the wriggling234 Tottles, left the house, and carried out his instructions to the letter. The loss of Tottles had been discovered. Miss Shyne’s establishment was topsy-turvy when he arrived, servants tearing up and down stairs, the confidential attendant in tears on a hall chair, Miss Shyne in hysterics in her Early Victorian boudoir, the remaining dogs harking their heads off, and the very devil to pay. But the arrival of De Peauchamp-Walmerdale, dear fellers, caused a lull235 in the storm. Faithful to his instructions, he refused to give up the dog, except 316to its mistress, and after a feint or two of departure, Miss Shyne gave in and ordered her fate, as it turned out to be—d’ye foller me?—to be shown upstairs.
“The Early Victorian drawing-room, with the green rep furniture and the Berlin woolwork curtains—a pattern of macaws and dahlias, I understood—was in partial darkness. Only the wax candles in the crystal candelabra on the marble mantelshelf were alight, no electric illuminations bein’ permitted on the premises236.
“De Peauchamp-Walmerdale—dog under his arm—took up a commandin’ position on the hearthrug, also worked in Berlin wool, in front of a small, mysterious and palely-twinkling fire. As he did so the foldin’ doors opposite, communicating with the boudoir, slowly opened, and Miss Jane Ann Shyne, spinster, aged seventy, saw before her the long-dead romance of her youth, resuscitated237 from the ashes of—wherever long-dead romances are deposited, dear fellers. There was a faint, feminine scream—quite Early Victorian in character—a rustle9 of old-fashioned satins—an outburst of joyous238 barks from Tottles, a strong, bewildering perfume of lavender water (triple extract), and the old lady sank, literally239 sank, upon the white Irish poplin vest that added style and cachet to De Peauchamp-Walmerdale’s uncommonly fetchin’ costume.
“What more, dear fellers? The couple were united yesterday at St. Neot’s, Knightsbridge. Every penny is settled on De Peauchamp-Walmerdale, and Lady Tewsminster says she can now die happy, her dear boy being provided for, for life. She naturally claims the honors of the affair! Quite so, but without the clothes where would the man have been? D’ye foller me, dear fellers? In my poor opinion, the principal factor in the making of De Peauchamp-Walmerdale’s fortune was the Man Behind the Shears240. Do you foller me? So glad! Thought you would.”
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1
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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rubicund
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| adj.(脸色)红润的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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complexioned
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| 脸色…的 | |
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8
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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9
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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13
hooding
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| v.兜帽( hood的现在分词 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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15
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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17
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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18
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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19
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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alleviated
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| 减轻，缓解，缓和( alleviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bumpers
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| （汽车上的）保险杠，缓冲器( bumper的名词复数 ) | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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24
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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25
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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comedian
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| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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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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30
bibulous
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| adj.高度吸收的，酗酒的 | |
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31
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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32
usurp
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| vt.篡夺，霸占；vi.篡位 | |
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33
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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vat
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| n.(=value added tax)增值税，大桶 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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lankly
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| adv.瘦地，细长地 | |
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lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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42
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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43
comatose
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| adj.昏睡的，昏迷不醒的 | |
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44
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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50
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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51
lapsing
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| v.退步( lapse的现在分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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52
lachrymose
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| adj.好流泪的，引人落泪的；adv.眼泪地，哭泣地 | |
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53
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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54
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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55
honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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56
morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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57
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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58
marital
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| adj.婚姻的，夫妻的 | |
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59
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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60
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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61
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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62
lyric
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| n.抒情诗，歌词；adj.抒情的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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64
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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65
electrifying
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| v.使电气化( electrify的现在分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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66
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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67
garnered
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| v.收集并（通常）贮藏（某物），取得，获得( garner的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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69
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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70
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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71
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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72
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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73
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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74
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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75
beetling
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| adj.突出的，悬垂的v.快速移动( beetle的现在分词 ) | |
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76
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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77
scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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82
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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83
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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84
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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85
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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86
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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87
daunts
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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91
sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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92
enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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93
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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94
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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95
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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96
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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97
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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98
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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99
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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101
incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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102
goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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103
wanly
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| adv.虚弱地；苍白地，无血色地 | |
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104
formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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105
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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106
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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107
panacea
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| n.万灵药；治百病的灵药 | |
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108
alleviation
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| n. 减轻，缓和，解痛物 | |
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109
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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110
sarcastic
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|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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111
censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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112
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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113
unpack
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| vt.打开包裹（或行李），卸货 | |
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114
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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115
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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116
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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117
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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118
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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119
fulfill
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| vt.履行，实现，完成；满足，使满意 | |
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120
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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121
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
florists
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| n.花商，花农，花卉研究者( florist的名词复数 ) | |
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124
underneath
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|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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125
oyster
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|
| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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126
mammoth
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|
| n.长毛象；adj.长毛象似的，巨大的 | |
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127
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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128
demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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129
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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130
imbibed
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| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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131
nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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132
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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133
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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134
radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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135
outrageously
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| 凶残地； 肆无忌惮地； 令人不能容忍地； 不寻常地 | |
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136
sketch
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|
| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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137
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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138
maritime
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| adj.海的，海事的，航海的，近海的，沿海的 | |
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139
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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140
bouquets
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| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
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141
carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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142
shrine
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|
| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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143
bonbons
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| n.小糖果( bonbon的名词复数 ) | |
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144
middle-aged
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|
| adj.中年的 | |
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145
malicious
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|
| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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146
prattled
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|
| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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147
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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148
rusty
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|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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149
arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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150
enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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151
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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152
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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153
sobbed
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|
| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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154
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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155
complacently
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|
| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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156
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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157
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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158
vengeance
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|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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159
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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160
seasick
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|
| adj.晕船的 | |
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161
juncture
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|
| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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162
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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163
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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164
winked
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|
| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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165
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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166
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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167
plows
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| n.犁( plow的名词复数 )；犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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168
previously
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|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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169
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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170
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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171
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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172
habitual
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|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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173
divans
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| n.（可作床用的）矮沙发( divan的名词复数 )；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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174
triangular
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|
| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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175
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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176
insignificant
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|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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177
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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178
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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179
simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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180
appreciative
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|
| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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181
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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182
pimples
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| n.丘疹，粉刺，小脓疱( pimple的名词复数 ) | |
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183
hoisting
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| 起重，提升 | |
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184
ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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185
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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186
vitality
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|
| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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187
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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188
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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189
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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190
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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191
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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192
circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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193
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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194
panoply
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| n.全副甲胄，礼服 | |
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195
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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196
negligence
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| n.疏忽，玩忽，粗心大意 | |
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197
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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198
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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199
watery
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|
| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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200
tempted
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|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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201
inertia
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|
| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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202
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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203
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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204
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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205
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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206
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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207
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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208
chrysanthemums
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| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
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209
canes
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| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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210
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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211
denomination
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| n.命名，取名，(度量衡、货币等的)单位 | |
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212
specified
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| adj.特定的 | |
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213
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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214
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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215
defunct
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| adj.死亡的；已倒闭的 | |
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216
breweries
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| 酿造厂，啤酒厂( brewery的名词复数 ) | |
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217
psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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218
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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219
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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221
bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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222
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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223
elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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224
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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225
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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226
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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227
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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228
appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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229
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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230
dowdy
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| adj.不整洁的；过旧的 | |
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231
waterproofed
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| v.使防水，使不透水( waterproof的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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232
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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233
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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234
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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235
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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236
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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237
resuscitated
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| v.使（某人或某物）恢复知觉，苏醒( resuscitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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238
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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239
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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240
shears
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| n.大剪刀 | |
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