And now the old lady was dead, and in dying had tried again. John pictured her casting her final noose2 sitting up, gaunt and tall, in her four-poster bed dictating3 her last will and testament4 to the Helston attorney, awed5 farm hands waiting to affix6 their marks, sunset staining the west window and the black bull roaring in the yard below. And it was a shrewd cast she had made; John could feel its toils7 tightening8 about him. He had always been given to understand that Tregors was as good as his, and now it was as good as Carveth Donnithorne’s—Carveth Donnithorne! John gritted9 his teeth at the thought of the suave10 and ever prospering11 ship chandler. Tregors had always been a strong farm, but in the last seventeen years Selina had increased the acreage by a third, by one hundred acres of sweet upland grazing lopped from the Tregellas estate. There were new buildings too, built of moor12 granite13 to stand forever, and the stock was without match locally. John’s yeoman heart yearned14 to it. Oh, the clever old woman! John pictured Carveth Donnithorne taking possession, Carveth Donnithorne with his condescending15 airs, patronizing wife and school of chubby16 little boys. Had not Carveth goods enough in this world but that he must have Tregors as well?
John swore he should not have Tregors as well, not if he could stop it. How could he stop it? He puzzled his wits, but returned inevitably17 to the one answer he was trying to evade18, “Marry within twelve months! Marry within twelve months!” His aunt had made a sure throw, he admitted with grim admiration19, the cunning old devil! It was all very well saying “marry,” but who would marry a man that even the rough fisher girls avoided and children hid from? He would have no more force or subterfuge20. If any woman consented to marry him it must be in full knowledge of what she was doing and of her own free will. There should be no repetition of that night seventeen years before. He shuddered21. “No, by the Lord, no more of that; rather let Tregors go to Carveth.”
In imagination he saw the Squire’s daughter as he was always seeing her in the dark nights when he was alone, stricken numb22 in his arms, glazed23 horror in her eyes—saw her running across the blind country, sobbing24, panting, stumbling in furrows25, torn by brambles, trying to get home, away from him—the Terror. He shut his eyes, as though to shut out the vision, and rode on past Germoe to Kenneggy Downs.
The moon was flying through clouds like a circus girl through hoops27, the road was swept by winged shadows. Puddles28 seemed to brim with milk at one moment, ink the next. At one moment the surrounding country was visible, a-gleam as with hoar frost, and then was blotted29 out in darkness; it was a night of complete and startling transformations30. The shadow of a bare oak leapt upon them suddenly, flinging unsubstantial arms at man and horse as though to grasp them, a phantom31 octopus32. Penhale’s mare33 shied, nearly unseating him. He came out of his somber34 thoughts, kicked spurs into her and drove her on at a smart trot35. She swung forward, trembling and uneasy, nostrils36 swelling37, ears twitching38, as though she sensed uncanny presences abroad. They reached the high ground above Perranuthnoe, waste, gorse-covered downs. To the south the great indent39 of Mount’s Bay gloomed and glittered under cloud and moonshine; westward41 Paul Hill rose like a wall, a galaxy42 of ships’ riding lights pricking43 the shadow at its base. The track began to drop downhill, the moors44 gave over to fields with high banks. An old pack horse track, choked with undergrowth, broke into the road from the seaward side. The mare cocked her ears towards it, snorted and checked. Penhale laid into her with his whip. She bounded forward and shied again, but with such violence this time that John came out of the saddle altogether. He saw a shadow rush across the road, heard something thwack on the mare’s rump as she swerved45 from under him, and he fell, not on the road as he expected, but on top of a man, bearing him to the ground. As John fell he knew exactly what he had to deal with—highwaymen! The mare’s swerve46 had saved him a stunning47 blow on the head. He grappled with the assailant as they went down and they rolled over and over on the ground feeling for strangle holds. John was no tyro48 at the game; he was muscled like a bull and had been taught many a trick by his hind49 Bohenna, the champion, but this thief was strong also and marvelously elusive50. He buckled51 and twisted under the farmer’s weight, finally slipped out of his clutch altogether and leapt to his feet. John scrambled52 up just in time to kick the heavy oak cudgel from the man’s reach and close with him again. John cross-buttocked and back-heeled him repeatedly, but on each occasion the man miraculously53 regained54 his feet. John tried sheer strength, hugged the man to him, straining to break his back. The man bent55 and sprang as resilient as a willow56 wand. John hugged him closer, trying to crush his ribs57. The man made his teeth meet in the farmer’s ear and slipped away again.
Once more John was just in time to stop him from picking up the club. He kicked it into the ditch and set to work with his knuckles58. But he could not land a blow; wherever he planted his fists the fellow was not, eluding59 them by a fraction of an inch, by a lightning side-step or a shake of the head. The man went dancing backwards60 and sideways, hands down, bobbing his head, bending, swaying, bouncing as though made of rubber. He began to laugh. The laugh sent a shiver through John Penhale. The footpad thought he had him in his hands, and unless help came from somewhere the farmer knew such was the case; it was only a question of time and not much time. He was out of trim and cooked to a finish already, while the other was skipping like a dancing master, had breath to spare for laughter.
At that time of night nobody would be on the road, and help was not likely to drop from Heaven. He had only himself to look to. He thought over the manifold tricks he had seen in the wrestling ring, thought swiftly and desperately61, hit out with his left and followed with an upward kick of his right foot—Devon style. His fist missed as he expected, but his boot caught the thief a tip under the knee cap as he side-stepped. The man doubled up, and John flung himself at him. The footpad butted62 him in the pit of the stomach with his head and skipped clear, shouting savagely63 in Romany, but limping, limping! John did not know the language, but it told him there was a companion to reckon with—a fresh man; the struggle was hopeless. Nevertheless he turned and ran for the club. He was not fast enough, not fast enough by half; three yards from the ditch the lamed64 thief was on him. John heard the quick hop-skip of feet behind him and dropped on one knee as the man sprang for his back. The footpad, not expecting the drop, went too high; he landed across John’s shoulders, one arm dropping across the farmer’s chest. In a flash John had him by the wrist and jerked upright, at the same time dragging down on the wrist; it was an adaptation of the Cornish master-throw, “the flying mare.” The man went over John’s shoulders like a rocket, made a wonderful effort to save himself by a back somersault, but the tug65 on his wrist was too much, and he crashed on his side in the road. John kicked him on the head till he lay still and, picking up the club, whirled to face the next comer. Nobody came on. John was perplexed66. To whom had the fellow been shouting if not to a confederate?
Perhaps the cur had taken fright and was skulking67 in the gorse. Very well; he would drub him out. He was flushed with victory and had the club in his hands now. He was stepping towards the furze when he heard a slight scrunching68 sound to his left, and, turning, saw a dark figure squatting69 on the bank at the roadside. John stood still, breathing hard, his cudgel ready. The mysterious figure did not stir. John stepped nearer, brandishing70 his club. Still the figure made no move. John stepped nearer yet, and at that moment the moon broke clear of a mesh71 of clouds, flooding the road with ghostly light, and John, to his astonishment72, saw that the confederate was a girl, a girl in a tattered73 cloak and tarnished74 tumbler finery, munching75 a turnip76. Strolling acrobats77! That explained the man’s uncanny agility78.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Nothing, sir,” said the girl, chewing a lump of the root.
“I’ll have him hung and you transported for this,” John thundered.
“I did you no harm,” said the girl calmly.
That was true enough. John wondered why she had not come to the assistance of her man; tribe law was strong with these outcasts, he understood. He asked her.
The girl shrugged79 her shoulders. “He beat me yesterday. I wanted to see him beat. You done it. Good!”
She thrust a bare, well-molded arm in John’s face. It was bruised80 from elbow to shoulder. She spat81 at the unconscious tumbler.
“What is he to you?” John asked.
“Nothing,” she retorted. “Muck,” and took another wolfish bite at the turnip; she appeared ravenous82.
John turned his back on her. He had no intention of proceeding83 with the matter, since to do so meant carrying a stunned84 footpad, twelve stone at least, a mile into Market Jew and later standing85 the publicity86 of the Assizes. He was not a little elated at the success of his “flying mare” and in a mood to be generous. After all he had lost nothing but a little skin; he would let the matter drop. He picked the man up and slung87 him off the road into the gorse of the pack track. Now for his horse. He walked past the munching girl in silence, halted, felt in his pocket, found a florin and jerked it to her.
“Here,” he said, “get yourself an honest meal.”
The florin fell in the ditch, the girl dropped off the bank onto it as he had seen a hawk88 drop on a field vole.
“Good God!” he muttered. “She must be starved,” and walked on.
He would knock up the inn in Market Jew and spend the remainder of the night there, he decided89. He would look for his horse in the morning—but he expected it would trot home.
A hundred yards short of the St. Hilary turning he came upon the mare; she was standing quietly, a forefoot planted on a broken rein90, holding herself nose to the ground. He freed her, knotted the rein and mounting clattered91 down the single street and out on the beach road on the other side. Since he had his horse he would push straight through after all; if he stopped he would have to concoct92 some story to account for his battered93 state, which would be difficult. He went at a walk, pondering over the events of the night. On his left hand the black mass of St. Michael’s Mount loomed40 out of the moon-silvered bay like some basking94 sea monster; before him lay Penzance with the spire95 of St. Mary’s rising above the masts of the coasters, spearing at the stars.
At Ponsandane River the mare picked up a stone. John jumped off, hooked it out and was preparing to remount when he noticed that she had got her head round and was staring back down the road, ears pricked96. There was some one behind them. He waited a full minute, but could neither see nor hear anything, so went on again, through Penzance, over Newlyn Green and up the hill. The wind had died away. It was the still hour that outrides dawn; the east was already paling. In the farms about Paul, John could hear the cocks bugling97 to each other; hidden birds in the blackthorns gave sleepy twitters; a colt whinnied “good morning” from a near-by field and cantered along the hedge, shaking the dew from its mane. Everything was very quiet, very peaceful, yet John could not rid himself of the idea that he was being followed. He pulled up again and listened, but, hearing nothing, rode on, calling himself a fool.
He dropped down into Trevelloe Bottoms, gave the mare a drink in Lamorna stream and climbed Boleigh. A wall-eyed sheep dog came out of a cottage near the Pipers and flew, yelping98, at the horse’s heels. He cursed it roundly and it retired99 whence it came, tail between its legs. As he turned the bend in the road he heard the cur break into a fresh frenzy100 of barking.
There was somebody behind him after all, somebody who went softly and stopped when he did. It was as he had suspicioned; the tumbler had come to and was trailing him home to get his revenge—to fire stacks or rip a cow, an old gypsy trick. John swung the mare into a cattle track, tied her to a blackthorn, pulled a heavy stone out of the mud and waited, crouched101 against the bank, hidden in the furze. He would settle this rogue102 once and for all. Every yeoman instinct aroused, he would have faced forty such in defense103 of his stock, his place.
Dawn was lifting her golden head over the long arm of the Lizard104. A chain of little pink clouds floated above her like adoring cherubs105. Morning mists drifted up from the switch-backed hills to the north, white as steam. Over St. Gwithian tower the moon hung, haggard and deathly pale, an old siren giving place to a rosy106 débutante. In the bushes birds twittered and cheeped, tuning107 their voices against the day. John Penhale waited, bent double, the heavy stone ready in his hands. The footpad was a long time coming. John wondered if he had taken the wrong turning—but that was improbable; the mare’s tracks were plain. Some one might have come out of the cottage and forced the fellow into hiding—or he might have sensed the ambush108. John was just straightening his back to peer over the furze when he heard the soft thud of bare feet on the road, heard them hesitate and then turn towards him, following the hoof109 prints. He held his breath, judged the time and distance and sprang up, the stone poised110 in both hands above his head. He lowered it slowly and let it drop in the mud. It was the girl!
She looked at the stone, then at John and her mouth twitched111 with the flicker113 of a smile. John felt foolish and consequently angry. He stepped out of the bushes.
“Why are you following me?” he demanded.
She looked down at her bare feet, then up at him out of the corners of her deep dark eyes, but made no answer.
John grasped her by an arm and shook her. “Can’t you speak? Why are you following me?”
She did not reply, but winced114 slightly, and John saw that he was gripping one of the cruel bruises115. He released her, instantly contrite116.
“I did not mean to do that,” he said. Then, hardening again: “But, look you, I’ll have no more of this. I’ll have none of your kind round here, burning ricks. If I catch you near my farm I’ll hand you over to the law for . . . for what you are and you’ll be whipped. Do you hear me?”
The girl remained silent, leaning up against the bank, pouting117, looking up at John under her long lashes118. She was handsome in a sulky, outlandish way, he admitted. She had a short nose, high cheekbones and very dark eyes with odd lights in them; her bare head was covered with crisp black curls and she wore big brass119 earrings120; a little guitar was tucked under one arm. The tattered cloak was drawn121 tight about her, showing the thin but graceful122 lines of her figure—a handsome trollop.
“If you won’t speak you won’t . . . but, remember, I have warned you,” said John, but with less heat, as he untied123 his horse and mounted. As he turned the corner he glanced furtively124 back and met the girl’s eyes full. He put spurs to the mare, flushing hotly.
A quarter of an hour later he reined125 up in his yard. He had been away rather less than twenty-four hours, but it seemed like as many days. It was good to be home. A twist of blue smoke at a chimney told him Martha was stirring and he would get breakfast soon. He heard the blatter of calves126 in their shed and the deep, answering moo of cows from the byre, the splash and babble127 of the stream. In the elms the rooks had already begun to quarrel—familiar voices.
He found Bohenna in the stable wisping a horse and singing his one song, “I seen a ram26 at Hereford Fair,” turned the mare over to him and sought the yard again.
It was good to be home . . . and yet, and yet . . . things moved briskly outside, one found adventures out in the world, adventures that set the blood racing128. He was boyishly pleased with his tussle129 with the vagabond, had tricked him rather neatly130, he thought; he must tell Bohenna about that. Then the girl. She had not winced at the sight of his face, not a quiver, had smiled at him even. He wondered if she were still standing in the cow track, the blue cloak drawn about her, squelching131 mud through her bare toes—or was she ranging the fields after more turnips—turnips! She was no better than an animal—but a handsome animal for all that, if somewhat thin. Oh, well, she had gone now; he had scared her off, would never see her again.
He turned to walk into the house and saw the girl again. She was leaning against the gate post, looking up at him under her lashes. He stood stock-still for a moment, amazed as at a vision, and then flung at her:
John halted. He felt his fury going from him like wind from a pricked bladder. In a second he would be no longer master of himself. In the glow of morning she was handsomer than ever; she was young, not more than twenty, there was a blue gloss133 on the black curls, the brass earrings glinted among them; her skin had a golden sunburnt tint134 and her eyes smoldered135 with curious lights.
The girl smiled up at him, a slow, full-lipped smile. “You won me . . . so I came,” she said.
John’s heart leapt with old pagan pride. To the victor the spoils!—aye, verily! He caught the girl by the shoulders and whirled her round so that his own face came full to the sunrise.
“Do you see this?” he cried. “Look well, look well!”
The girl stared at him steadily137, without a tremor138, without the flick112 of an eyelid139, and then, bending, rubbed her forehead, cat-like, against his shoulder.
“Marry,” she purred, “I’ve seen worse than that where I came from.”
For answer John caught her up in his arms and marched, shouting with rough laughter, into the house, the tumbler girl clasped tight to his breast, her arms about his neck.
To the victor the spoils!
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1
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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3
dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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4
testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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5
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
affix
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| n.附件，附录 vt.附贴，盖(章)，签署 | |
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7
toils
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| 网 | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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9
gritted
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的过去式和过去分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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10
suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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11
prospering
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的现在分词 ) | |
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12
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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13
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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14
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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16
chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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17
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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18
evade
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| vt.逃避，回避；避开，躲避 | |
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19
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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20
subterfuge
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| n.诡计；藉口 | |
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21
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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22
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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23
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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24
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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25
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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26
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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27
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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28
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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29
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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30
transformations
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| n.变化( transformation的名词复数 )；转换；转换；变换 | |
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31
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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32
octopus
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| n.章鱼 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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35
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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36
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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37
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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38
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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39
indent
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| n.订单，委托采购，国外商品订货单，代购订单 | |
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40
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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41
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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42
galaxy
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| n.星系；银河系；一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
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43
pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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44
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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47
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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48
tyro
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| n.初学者；生手 | |
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49
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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50
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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51
buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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52
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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53
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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54
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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55
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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56
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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57
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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58
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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59
eluding
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的现在分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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60
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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61
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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62
butted
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| 对接的 | |
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63
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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64
lamed
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| 希伯莱语第十二个字母 | |
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65
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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66
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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67
skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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68
scrunching
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| v.发出喀嚓声( scrunch的现在分词 )；蜷缩；压；挤压 | |
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69
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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70
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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71
mesh
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| n.网孔，网丝，陷阱；vt.以网捕捉，啮合，匹配；vi.适合； [计算机]网络 | |
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72
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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73
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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74
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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75
munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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76
turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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77
acrobats
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| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
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78
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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79
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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80
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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81
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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82
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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83
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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84
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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85
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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86
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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87
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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88
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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89
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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90
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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91
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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92
concoct
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| v.调合，制造 | |
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93
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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94
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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95
spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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96
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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97
bugling
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| 吹号（bugle的现在分词形式） | |
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98
yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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99
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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100
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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101
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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103
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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104
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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105
cherubs
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| 小天使，胖娃娃( cherub的名词复数 ) | |
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106
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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107
tuning
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| n.调谐，调整，调音v.调音( tune的现在分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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108
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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109
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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110
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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111
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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112
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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113
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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114
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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116
contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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117
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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118
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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119
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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120
earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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121
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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122
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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123
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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124
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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125
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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126
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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127
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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128
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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129
tussle
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| n.&v.扭打，搏斗，争辩 | |
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130
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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131
squelching
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| v.发吧唧声，发扑哧声( squelch的现在分词 )；制止；压制；遏制 | |
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132
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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133
gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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134
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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135
smoldered
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的过去式 ) | |
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136
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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138
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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139
eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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