Frank, she certainly was!
Resentments3 rose. Why on earth had he sat there so meekly4 and let her go on like that—he, the more or less well-known Eric Mann! Had he no force of character at all? No dignity?
Suppose she had to write plays to suit the whims5 of penny-splitting Broadway managers who had never heard of Andreyev and Tchekov, were bored by Shaw and Shakespeare and thought an optimist6 was an eye doctor—where would she get off!
During the short block between Sixth Avenue and the Square, anger conquered depression. When he entered the old brick apartment building he was muttering. When he left the elevator and walked along the dark corridor to the rooms he was considering reprisals7.
Peter shared the dim old seventh-floor apartment with two fellow bachelors, Henry Sidenham Lowe and the Worm. The three were sometimes known as the Seventh-Story Men. The phrase was Hy Lowe's and referred to the newspaper stories of that absurd kidnaping escapade—the Esther MacLeod case, it was—back in 1913. The three were a bit younger then.
Hy Lowe was a slim young man with small features that appeared to be gathered in the middle of his face. His job might have been thought odd anywhere save in the Greenwich Village region. After some years of newspaper work he had settled down to the managing editorship of a missionary8 weekly known as My Brother's Keeper. Hy was uncommunicative, even irreverent regarding his means of livelihood9, usually referring to the paper as his meal ticket, and to his employer, the Reverend Doctor Hubbell Harkness Wilde (if at all) as the Walrus10. In leisure moments, perhaps as a chronic11 reaction from the moral strain of his job, Hy affected12 slang, musical comedy and girls. The partly skinned old upright piano in the studio was his. And he had a small gift at juggling13 plates.
The Worm was a philosopher; about Peter's age, sandy in coloring but mild in nature, reflective to the point of self-effacement. He read interminably, in more than one foreign language and was supposed to write book reviews. He had lived in odd corners of the earth and knew Gorki personally. His name was Henry Bates.
Peter came slowly into the studio, threw off coat and hat and stood, the beginnings of a complacent14 smile on his face.
“I've got my girl,” he announced.
“Now that you've got her, what you gonna do with her?” queried15 Hy Lowe, without turning from the new song hit he was picking out on the piano.
“What am I gonna do with her?” mused16 Peter, hands deep in pockets, more and more pleased with his new attitude of mind—“I'm gonna vivisect her, of course.”
“Ah, cruel one!” hummed Hy.
“Well, why not!” cried Peter, rousing. “If a girl leaves her home and strikes out for the self-expression thing, doesn't she forfeit17 the consideration of decent people? Isn't she fair game?”
Over in the corner by a window, his attention caught by this outbreak, the Worm looked up at Peter and reflected for a moment. He was deep in a Morris chair, the Worm, clad only in striped pajamas18 that were not over-equipped with buttons, and one slipper19 of Chinese straw that dangled20 from an elevated foot.
“Hey, Pete—get this!” cried Hy, and burst into song.
Peter leaned over his shoulder and sang the choppy refrain with him. In the interest of accuracy the two sang it again, The third rendition brought them to the borders of harmony.
The Worm looked up again and studied Peter's back, rather absently as if puzzling him out and classifying him. He knit his brows. Then his eyes lighted, and he turned back in his book, fingering the pages with a mild eagerness. Finding what he sought, he read thoughtfully and smiled. He closed his book; hitched22 forward to the old flat-top desk that stood between the windows; lighted a caked brier pipe; and after considerable scribbling23 on scraps24 of paper appeared to hit upon an arrangement of phrases that pleased him. These phrases he printed out painstakingly25 on the back of a calling card which he tacked26 up (with a hair-brush) on the outer side of the apartment door. Then he went into the bedroom to dress.
“Who is she?” asked Hy in a low voice. The two were fond of the Worm, but they never talked with him about their girls.
“That's the interesting thing,” said Peter. “I don't know. She's plumb27 mysterious. All she'd tell was that she is playing a boy at that little Crossroads Theater of Zanin's, and that I'd have to go there to find her out. Going to-night. Want to come along?”
“What kind of a looking girl?”
“Oh—pretty. Extraordinary eyes, green with brown in 'em—but green. And built like a boy. Very graceful28.”
“Hm!” mused Hy.
“Do you know her?”
“Sounds like Sue Wilde.”
“Not—”
“Yes, the Walrus's child.”
“What's she doing, playing around the Village?”
“Oh, that's an old story. She left home—walked right out. Calls herself modern. She's the original lady highbrow, if you ask me. Sure I'll go to see her. Even if she never could see me.”
Later, Hy remarked: “The old boy asked me yesterday if I had her address. You see he knows we live down here where the Village crowds circulate.”
“Give it to him?”
“No. Easy enough to get, of course, but I ducked... I'm going to hop21 into the bathtub. There's time enough. Then we can eat at the Parisian.”
Peter settled down to read the sporting page of the evening paper. Shortly the Worm, clad now, drifted back to the Morris chair.
They heard Hy shuffle29 out in his bath slippers30 and close the outer door after him. Then he opened the door and came back, He stood in the doorway31, holding his bathrobe together with one hand and swinging his towel with the ether; and chuckling32.
“You worm!” he observed. “Why Bolbo ceeras?”
The Worm looked up with mild eyes. “Not bolboceeras,” he corrected.
“Bolboeseras. As in cow.”
“But why?”
Peter paid little heed34 to this brief conversation. And when he and Hy went out, half an hour later, he gave only a passing glance to the card on the door. He was occupied with thoughts of a slim girl with green eyes who had fascinated and angered him in a most confusing way.
The card read as follows:
DO NOT FEED OR ANNOY!
BOLBOCERAS AMERICANUS MULS
HABITAT HERE!
点击收听单词发音
1 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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2 rehearsal | |
n.排练,排演;练习 | |
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3 resentments | |
(因受虐待而)愤恨,不满,怨恨( resentment的名词复数 ) | |
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4 meekly | |
adv.温顺地,逆来顺受地 | |
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5 WHIMS | |
虚妄,禅病 | |
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6 optimist | |
n.乐观的人,乐观主义者 | |
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7 reprisals | |
n.报复(行为)( reprisal的名词复数 ) | |
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8 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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9 livelihood | |
n.生计,谋生之道 | |
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10 walrus | |
n.海象 | |
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11 chronic | |
adj.(疾病)长期未愈的,慢性的;极坏的 | |
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12 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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13 juggling | |
n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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14 complacent | |
adj.自满的;自鸣得意的 | |
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15 queried | |
v.质疑,对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 );询问 | |
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16 mused | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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17 forfeit | |
vt.丧失;n.罚金,罚款,没收物 | |
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18 pajamas | |
n.睡衣裤 | |
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19 slipper | |
n.拖鞋 | |
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20 dangled | |
悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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21 hop | |
n.单脚跳,跳跃;vi.单脚跳,跳跃;着手做某事;vt.跳跃,跃过 | |
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22 hitched | |
(免费)搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 ); 搭便车; 攀上; 跃上 | |
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23 scribbling | |
n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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24 scraps | |
油渣 | |
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25 painstakingly | |
adv. 费力地 苦心地 | |
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26 tacked | |
用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 ); 附加,增补; 帆船抢风行驶,用粗线脚缝 | |
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27 plumb | |
adv.精确地,完全地;v.了解意义,测水深 | |
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28 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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29 shuffle | |
n.拖著脚走,洗纸牌;v.拖曳,慢吞吞地走 | |
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30 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
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31 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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32 chuckling | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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33 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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34 heed | |
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心 | |
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