Under foot were wet snow and ice. Stacey slipped again and again. But he tore on, as though there were some definite place he must get to, though, indeed, had he been capable of reflection, he would have perceived the reverse to be true.
He reached the boulevard and turned into it, ploughing along at a tremendous pace in the direction of his home. But presently some small capacity for thought did return to him, and he became aware that he most certainly did not want to go home. He began to walk less rapidly, and at last stopped altogether, bewildered, and looked about him, not knowing what to do.
It was only five o’clock, but the early winter dusk was already darkening the air, and lights were beginning to shine out in the windows of houses. Stacey stood beneath one of the brilliant clusters of electric globes with which the city government had adorned5 the boulevard, and stared in front of him. But he was not really reflecting; his mind was simply at a deadlock6 between the two opposing forces that usurped7 it. Some new factor, however slight, must intervene before he could act.
The factor revealed itself externally as a high-powered racing8 car, which drew up, throbbing9, at the curb10, with a grinding of suddenly applied11 brakes and a spatter of slush.
“Hello, Carroll!” called the young man who was driving it. “Pretty nasty under foot. Can I give you a lift?” He reached over and flung open the door of the car.
Stacey looked up, with a start. His mind cleared swiftly. The pause before he was able to reply was hardly perceptible. “Oh, hello, Whittaker!” he said, in quite a natural voice. “Thanks.” He rested one foot on the step of the car and frowned. “The only thing is that I don’t know where I want to go. I was just trying to make up my mind.”
The young man at the wheel laughed. He was a big fellow, appearing still bigger because of the enormous fur coat he wore, and had a ruddy face, with pleasant eyes and a hard mouth. He looked like a commercial traveller come into a fortune. “Well,” he said, “that does make it a bit difficult, don’t it? Anyhow, hop12 in! You certainly don’t want to stick around where you are.”
Stacey obeyed, slamming the door after him, and sat down beside Whittaker, who started the car off slowly along the boulevard.
The young man was of the type known in current slang as “hard boiled.” This quality, however, was not the result of his service in France—he had been a lieutenant13 of infantry14 in a different division from Stacey’s. The war had not had the slightest effect on Whittaker. He had always been “hard boiled,” even before the term existed.
“I don’t want to go home,” Stacey explained. “Fed up with home. Where you going? Can’t you take me along?”
The other laughed again. “Sure! I can, but you wouldn’t go. Too much of a high-minded puritan. Why, you wouldn’t even end up that dinner we had in Paris in any decent way! I’m going out to Bell’s at Clarefield for the night.”
“All right,” said Stacey, “so will I, if you’ll take me.”
“Well, well, the sky has fallen! My last illusion’s gone! War, thy name is corruption15!” Whittaker exclaimed. “Sure! Glad to have you!” he added genially17. “Now let’s figure it out. I’ve got a little girl I’m going to take along. We can squeeze you in all right—all the cosier18, what? But you’d better go and dig up some one yourself and get your car.”
Stacey shook his head. “No, I’ll ride with you—if I won’t be butting19 in. Maybe I’ll find some one out there.”
“Drive around to my house and we’ll have a drink while I get a few things together.”
“All right.” The car leaped forward.
In Stacey’s mind the will to have Marian, the will not to have her, and the anger persisted, but underneath21. Above, as the active part, was the matter of this trivial escapade. His dissent22 from Whittaker’s suggestion that he get his own car and bring another young lady was not due to distaste—nothing so fastidious as that could get a hearing now—but to Stacey’s positive fear of being left alone. If he were left to himself, nothing, as night fell and his longing23 deepened, could prevent his going to Marian. He must be prevented.
“Parker,” he said to the man who took Whittaker’s snowy fur coat in the hall, “I’m going away again for a day or two. You’ll tell Mr. Carroll when he gets in. First, please get us some whiskey and a siphon—Scotch, Whittaker?”
“Sounds good.”
But when Parker had brought the drinks to the library he came up close to Stacey. “Excuse me, sir,” he said in a low tone. “There’s a young lady who’s called to see you.”
Stacey opened his eyes wide, but he rose immediately. “Just a minute, Whittaker,” he remarked. “Be back at once. Pour yourself a drink.”
“Who is it?” he asked Parker, when they were in the hall.
The man looked perturbed25. “She wouldn’t give me her name, sir, and that’s why I thought I’d better speak to you quietly.”
“In the little drawing-room, sir.”
“Most likely a book agent,” said Stacey, and walked down the hall.
But it was not a book agent. It was Irene Loeffler. She stood waiting, an expression of mingled27 fear and determination on her face, across which the color came and went oddly.
“Hello!” said Stacey brusquely. “What are you doing here?” He did not offer to shake hands; nor did she.
“I’ll—tell you,” she replied desperately29. “I came to see—you, because you won’t come to see me. I—I don’t believe in silly old conventions. You—you’d come to me if you—were fond-of-me” (she blurted30 out the three words in one terrified syllable), “so I—come to you.”
Any one half-way normal would have laughed outright31. Irene was so absurdly out of harmony with her speech. She was as shrinking and virginal as her words were shameless.
But Stacey was beyond humor. He was living in a state of nervous exasperation32 bordering on madness. “Oh, I see!” he said icily. “A declaration!”
Her face flamed. “You can be insulting if you want to!” she cried, with a sudden angry sincerity33. Then she went on with her speech. “And when I came and—asked for you, your man—told me you were just—going away again—in a few minutes. And I thought—that is, I decided34—I mean, take me with you!”
He stared at her in amazement35 and for an instant did feel a small flicker36 of amusement. The young woman’s polite offer chimed in so well with Whittaker’s suggestion that they needed another girl.
“That’s very kind of you,” he said coolly, “but I don’t think you’d like the place. I’m going out to Bell’s Tavern37 at Clarefield. It’s a bit rough there and not well thought of in Vernon society. Greatly as I should enjoy your companionship, I fear you’d find yourself rather disapproved38 of in the best Bolshevik circles on your return.”
She winced39 under his words and flushed crimson40, but she faced him, not unheroically. “You’re hateful!” she cried. “But I—I’ll go—if you’ll take me!”
All the exasperation that he was feeling within him burst loose suddenly upon poor Irene, who had nothing to do with causing it.
“You little fool!” Stacey said savagely42, “even the idiots in your club have got more sense than you! They don’t know anything about facts, and you don’t, either. But they know enough to let them alone. You go home and play with your theories and don’t mix them up with facts any more. If I had so much as a shadow of a fancy for you I’d take you with me. But I haven’t—luckily for you! I don’t care two beans about you! Now run along home.”
But, with the air of his mind cleared by this explosion, and when he saw how the girl had collapsed43 under his brutality44, he felt suddenly sorry for her, and sick and tired.
“Look here, Irene!” he said, taking her arm. “I didn’t mean all that. Only, honestly, you don’t care anything for me. You’ve just built up an imaginary me and lavish45 an imaginary love on him. Forgive me for being so rough.”
What he said this time was true beyond a doubt, though Irene could hardly be expected to believe it. For when he took her arm she did not draw close to him in delight; she shrank instinctively46 from his touch. She was sobbing47, but he was probably quite right in thinking that it was from anger and shame. She controlled herself presently and wiped her eyes.
“Well, then, I’ll be going,” she remarked, in a strangled voice.
He went to the door with her. “Good night, Irene,” he said cordially, shaking her hand.
“I—I’m sorry to have—put you out,” she said absurdly.
“Oh, that’s all right!” he replied, with a touch of amusement. “Good night.”
Stacey returned to Whittaker. “Sorry to keep you so long,” he observed.
“No harm in that,” the other returned genially, “so long as you leave me in such good company.” He waved his hand toward the carafe48.
“Yes, good stuff, isn’t it?” said Stacey, and took a stiff drink.
They set off presently, Stacey giving a sigh of relief at being out of the house and in some one else’s hands—no longer obliged to think for himself.
It was quite dark now. The car ploughed through the freezing slush and mud of a suburban49 district until at last it drew up before a small outlying drug-store.
Whittaker blew the horn, and a girl scurried50 out into the green and purple light, and down to the curb.
“Uh-huh,” Whittaker assented52. “My friend, Stacey Carroll, Minnie. Another hero of the late world unpleasantness. Minnie Prentice, Carroll. Hop in, Minnie, old thing!”
Stacey had stepped down to let the girl in. She shook his hand and turned her small piquant53 face to his for a moment, then sprang up lightly, dropping a kiss on Whittaker’s cheek, running her arm through his, and snuggling into place, all in a second.
“Minnie,” Whittaker remarked, as the car leaped forward, “was lately a prominent, if silent, member of that unfortunate production, ‘The Pearl Girl,’ which expensive show completely failed to arouse Chicago from its sleep, and passed away, with me finally almost the only mourner. Disgusted with the rouge54 and corruption of the stage, Minnie decided to reform; and where, as I explained to her, can you reform better than in Vernon? in which pleasant city she now holds a position at Leveredge’s department store (notion counter), and has me for a chaperon. Hey, Minnie?”
“You forget to tell Mr. What’s-his-name the rest, Bill,” said Minnie with dignity.
“Mr. Carroll, sweetness, Carroll! The Vernon Carrolls! So I do,” Whittaker rattled55 on, meanwhile driving the car consummately56 over a slippery expanse of ice. “Having a sweet pure voice, Minnie is on the very verge57 of being admitted to the First Presbyterian Church choir58. Hence the obscure situation of our meeting-place. For, strange as it may seem, the First Presbyterian Church would not approve of my respectful appreciation59 of Minnie. Evil minds church people have!”
The young woman giggled60. “My, but you’re silly, Bill! I’ll say you are!” she observed. “What’ll Mr.—er—Carroll—got it that time, didn’t I?—think of me?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” Whittaker replied. “He won’t think of you at all. He’s got a secret sorrow.”
The girl turned her face toward Stacey. “That so, Mr. Carroll? You got a secret sorrow?” she inquired. “What’s she like?”
Stacey laughed. He was not diverted by such patter, but he was soothed61 by it; it was precisely62 what he needed to tide him over these hours. “Blonde,” he returned. “As blonde as you are. At least, as blonde as I think you are from your voice. From what I’ve seen of you so far your coloring appeared to be mixed green and purple.”
“Huh?”
“Come on, sweetness!” Whittaker urged. “Coax the little mind along! Teach it to walk! Don’t be afraid, little pet! Toddle63 over to daddy!”
“Oh,” exclaimed the girl, “I get you! The lights there at that drug-store.”
“That’s it! That’s it! Why, the little darling took three whole steps by its own self!” Whittaker said admiringly. “Colossal mind Minnie has!” he added to Stacey. “Too big to work! Too big to move! Just lies still and pants!”
“Oh, you shut your face, Bill! I guess my mind’s as good as yours any time. You care a lot about it, anyway, like hell you do! I’ll tell you what you care about.” And she whispered, giggling64, into his ear.
With such trivial talk they passed the time.
But presently the car swung into a wide road, where the snow, well packed and sanded, had not been torn into icy slush by city drays; and here Whittaker increased the speed. The hum of the engine became a smooth rhythmic65 thunder, the cleft66 air roared past, and any further talk was impossible.
Stacey was thrown back on his thoughts. They became the reality, the actual present only a shadow. He was but vaguely67 conscious of his surroundings—the cold flowing air, the car’s headlights on the snow, Whittaker, the girl’s warm body next him. The memory of Marian was more vivid than all these things. Soon now she would be expecting him at her house, and he would not be there. He writhed68. And what would she think of him? She must hate him. Until to-day he had not cared what she felt toward him. But now it was different. He and she had been honest with each other to-day. Fancies gone, illusions gone, everything false and pretty stripped off, their two small remaining selves had met for the first time in harmony, each no longer asking anything that the other could not give, but demanding the possible fiercely. He had no right to break off in this way. So Stacey thought dizzily, anger with Catherine and himself returning at intervals69, as a variation on the theme.
He came back wearily to the present, as the lights of Clarefield flashed up and the car swept over the curved driveway leading to the gleaming road-house. He stepped, shivering with cold, from the car, and helped the girl out. They waited on the hotel verandah while Whittaker drove the car back to the garage.
“H-how about-t it now, Mr. C-Carroll?” she demanded gaily70, her teeth chattering71. “Am I still p-purple and green?”
He forced as much interest as he could, and looked her over. “No,” he answered, “you’re—well, no matter! Only I shouldn’t worry about a mind, if I were you. You don’t need one.”
She really was pretty, he saw with indifference72. Bad mouth, though, he noted73, with an equal lack of interest. Loose and stupid.
The girl returned his scrutiny74. “You’re not so worse, either,” she said, considering him with sophisticated sensual eyes.
Whittaker returned. “God! but it’s cold! Let’s run for drinks. Thank the Lord, the bar here is still wide open!”
They went in. A large room on the right was already half full of people dining and dancing. Whittaker paused for a moment to reserve a table, then the three hurried off to the bar. It occurred to Stacey that he had better slip away from Minnie and Whittaker after a little. He had no right to spoil their evening. Nice sort of companion they must be finding him! But Whittaker, with the geniality75 of his sort, seemed to find no fault in his guest, while, as for Minnie, she would clearly be benevolently76 uncritical of any man under forty, not bad looking, who would drink. Moreover, something soon happened to make Stacey change his mind.
Glancing across the room to another alcoved space opposite, he caught sight, over a woman’s shoulder, of a face he thought he recognized, started, half rose to make sure, then sank down again in his chair and burst into unforced laughter.
“What’s the joke, Carroll?” Whittaker inquired.
“Nothing—except that I—see Ames Price is here,” Stacey returned weakly.
“No, is he really?” exclaimed Whittaker. “Well, I say, it is a bit soon, isn’t it?” And he, too, rose to look, and laughed, though the real joke was lost on him. “Stewed78, too! Stewed to the gills!” he added.
Stacey got up. “Excuse me a minute,” he said. “I’ll go over and worry him.”
Stacey crossed the room slowly. His mouth still twitched79 with amusement, but the expression thus given his face was malignant80 rather than mirthful. No, he was certainly not at his best when he smiled. He paused near the alcoved recess81 and stood gazing maliciously82 at Ames Price, whose back was toward him, and at the tall handsome young woman sitting across the table from Ames. She was slender and dark, with large eyes and a rather fine, weary mouth. She looked bored by her escort, and returned Stacey’s stare with cool interest. Then he touched Ames on the shoulder.
The man looked around slowly, but when he saw Stacey his mouth fell open, a slow flush spread over his smooth face and bald forehead, an apprehensive83 look came into his eyes, and he rose quickly, swaying a little.
“Say! What-ta you doing here, Shtacey?” he demanded thickly.
“Me?” Stacey returned. “Why shouldn’t I be here? I’m a free man, unbound, no ties at all, you know.”
Price clung to his arm and pulled him away to the edge of another booth, out of hearing of the young woman.
“?’Sh’unfortunate!” he said hoarsely84, struggling with his intoxication85. “I mean to shay—say—you of all people!” He drew out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Look here, Shta—no, Carroll—you don’t mind if I call you Carroll? ’S’ easier to say than Shta—your other name. No lack of inti—intima—cy intended. Look here, Carroll! Now I’m drunk, of course! You can see that! Anybody can see that! Whole world can see that! Hell! that isn’t what I was trying to say.” He paused again, made an even greater effort at self-mastery, and really did achieve some moderate success. The expression of concern in his glazed86 eyes deepened. “Damn it all! You wonder what I’m doing here! Now don’t you?”
“Why, no,” said Stacey, enjoying himself evilly. “I saw you here and just dropped over to say hello.”
Ames reached for a carafe that stood among glasses on a table near-by, poured a tumblerful of water with a shaking hand, and drank. Then he shook his head solemnly. “No, you wonder. Of course you wonder.”
Stacey watched him critically. “Doing pretty well,” he thought. But beneath Stacey’s surface calm was hatred87. So this—this sweating, panting, bald-headed animal—owned Marian, did he?
“Damn it all, Stacey!” Ames whispered raucously88, leaning close to his tormentor89, “I can’t help it! Marian’s so God-damned cold! ’S’no place to talk about her—I’ve got sense enough left to know that. But got to explain myself to you—you of all people! Cold, that’s what she is,—ice! Freezes a man. Honest to God she does! Looks-a fellow ’s’though he was dirt—yes, tha’s it, dirt! Locks her door. ’S’why I come here. Let her treat me like a man—I’d be best of husbands—none better.”
“Sorry to hear this,” Stacey returned smoothly90. “Wished you both all sorts of happiness. But you don’t owe me any explanations. Besides, this is a place for light-hearted gaiety. Shame to spoil it with dull thoughts of home. I’m out here with Bill Whittaker and his young lady. Thought perhaps, when I saw you, we might all arrange to dine together in one large genial16 party. How about it?”
Ames stared at him, his face clearing slowly. “Why, sure!” he said at last, heaving a sigh. “Thought at first you’d—oh, never mind now! what? Come on over and meet Ethel.”
“I’d like to. Not cold, eh?”
“No, not cold. Not warm or cold,” said Ames judicially91, “but friendly. Good sort, Ethel!” He drew Stacey back to the alcove77. “Ethel, ’s Stacey Carroll. Wants us to dine with him an’ some other people. First-rate, what?”
Stacey bowed, and the girl looked at him appraisingly92. She was really very handsome, he saw now, with an enigmatic quality in her face, caused perhaps by the fact that her black eyes were not quite horizontal, but slanted93 down ever so faintly toward the bridge of her nose.
“Yes,” she said finally, in a pleasant voice, “that’ll be nice.”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” Stacey remarked. “I’ll go back and arrange with Whittaker about it. See you both in a few minutes.” And he crossed the room, smiling again.
“Beautiful plan I’ve evolved, Whittaker,” he said, sitting down and sipping94 the cocktail95 that was waiting for him. “Ames is drunk, as you observed. Got over it a bit in talking with me, but will grow drunker presently. Very attractive girl with him—name of Ethel. I feel innocent sorrow for her. D’you mind if we all dine together? I propose to remove Ethel gently from Ames. Told you I’d find some one out here.”
Whittaker laughed. “Sure!” he said heartily96. “That’s something like! We’ll help all we can, hey, Minnie?”
“Gee! Mr. Carroll, and I thought you was slow!” the girl exclaimed delightedly.
“My dear Minnie,” said Stacey, “of course you’ll find me slow. Here I am, Bill’s guest. I owe it to him to suppress all the evil desires you arouse in me. Besides, we’re Presbyterians in our family, have a pew in the church. I’d never feel the same again towards the choir if . . .” He finished his cocktail and gazed at her reproachfully over the glass, while she laughed.
They all three crossed the room to Ames, who presented them heavily to Ethel. He was no drunker than before, however,—perhaps even a little less drunk, and he entered the dining-room with dignified97 concentrated steadiness.
The table the head-waiter had reserved for Whittaker would only seat four comfortably. “I’m the outsider. I’ll sit here at the corner,” Stacey said firmly, and motioned the waiter to draw him up a chair close to Ethel’s. “You order, Whittaker, will you?”
The room was pandemonium98, on account of the jazz band that was at one end and the cabaret performance that was everywhere. All conversations were necessarily shouted.
It occurred to Stacey that the age he lived in was devoted99 to noise, as a barbaric preventive of thought. No doubt it was right. What good had thought ever done the world? Here were the five of them, come out frankly100 in quest of food, drink, lights, noise, and sexual gratification. Nothing but animals, all five! Well, what of it? Clearly that was what the earth’s millions were all, in this glaring after-war illumination, revealed as seeking. The only difference among them was that some were more complicated and refined in their animalism than others. There wasn’t much complexity101 out here. So much the better! Strip off the last silken shreds102 of decoration! Leave the truth stark103 naked! The animal was all there was, and there was only so much, and no more, to the animal.
Thus Stacey mused104, under cover of the hubbub105, not perceiving that the fact of his musing106 denied its conclusion; not remarking that his own word was “quest”; not seeing that people were trying to be, and thus were not wholly, animals; certainly not seeing that this quest was as futile107 as any other.
How, indeed, could his thoughts fail to be superficial? They swam languidly on the surface waters of his mind. Beneath was a painful turmoil108 into which he struggled not to look.
He roused himself sharply, with a start, and looked around. Whittaker, on his right, was leaning over to Minnie just beyond, his face close to hers, his hand beneath the table. She was answering his glance and his words, her blue eyes dilated109 below the delicately darkened eyebrows110, her loose mouth babbling111 or, between speeches, drooping112 sensually. Ames Price was concerned with nothing but the effort to control his intoxication. Stacey turned to the girl beside him.
Her pose was easy and graceful113, and the curve of her cheek beneath the mass of her black hair was rather fine. Stacey felt the enigmatic quality about her even now when he could not see her slanting114 eyes. His knee touched hers, not intentionally115 but because they were sitting very close together, and she turned her face slowly toward his. Their eyes met. Hers were extraordinarily116 large and dark, and gazed into his, half curiously117, half cynically118, for a long moment. Strange eyes, unfathomable! Suddenly dull fire smoldered119 in them, and Stacey felt dizzy. He shivered,—but so did she; he felt her knee tremble against his. She smiled and lowered her eyes.
“I’ve heard of you, Mr. Carroll,” she observed calmly. “Every one in Vernon has, of course. I’d rather like to have been a man and fought as you’ve fought.”
Clearly she had better self-control than he. He paused before replying.
“Would you, now?” he said then. “That’s odd! You look too properly disdainful to care about fighting, and, as to being a man, you seem to me very thoroughly120 a woman.”
She looked at him again, squarely, appearing to study him.
“By the way,” he added abruptly121, “what’s your name? Your drunken friend presented you merely as Ethel.”
“Wyatt. Ethel Wyatt. It wouldn’t mean anything to you. But I prefer Ames drunk, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
She turned to Price. “Cheer up, Ames, old top!” she cried, in a jovial122, quite different voice. “Cocktails! Here’s to you!” And she pushed his glass toward him.
Ames gave her a dazed smile, patted her hand heavily, and drank. “?’S’a mistake!” he said. “Had one a minute ago. Oughtn’t to have any more. But mus’ drink with Essel—Ethel.” He beamed across at Stacey. “Told you so, Carroll. See her for yourself now. Friendly. Not warm or cold, but friendly.”
Again she turned to Stacey. “You believe him?”
“No.” He stared at her fiercely. “Will you chuck Ames and run off somewhere with me?”
“Yes, later,” she replied coolly, “when he’s quite drunk. I don’t want a scene. I hate scenes.” And she turned back to Ames.
Throughout the whole dinner she paid no more attention to Stacey, talking instead, with smiles and a coarsened voice, to her escort. But, beneath the table, her ankle was curved about Stacey’s, and now and again he felt it tremble, and trembled, too. But no touch of emotion was in her voice.
He had begun this merely as a savage41 joke on Ames. He was physically123 stirred now and going on with it eagerly, in search of oblivion.
After a while, Ethel being in sprightly124 conversation with Ames, Whittaker leaned close to Stacey. “I say! what’s the matter?” he demanded. “Wake up and get busy, Carroll!”
“Oh,” said Stacey calmly, “that’s all right! It’s all arranged. We’re only waiting for Ames to get completely blind. Miss Wyatt doesn’t want a scene.”
“Where am I going to go from here?”
“Well,” said Whittaker thoughtfully, “you might go on to West Boyd. Fifteen miles straight down the road. There’s a good inn there, the Thorndike. Oh, but hang it, you haven’t got a car!”
“Can’t I rent one here?”
Whittaker shook his head. “Take mine, old chap!” he said generously. “I don’t need it. I’ll telephone my man to bring out the other to-morrow morning.”
Stacey hesitated.
“No, I’ve got my check-book. I suppose they’ll cash a check here.”
“Oh!” said Stacey suddenly, “one thing! Keep Minnie quiet! Don’t want to let Ethel know I had this planned before I met her.”
Before long Ames rose, staggering, his face livid. “?’Scuse me,” he said thickly, “jus’ minute.”
“He’s going to be sick, I guess,” said Minnie delightedly, watching him lurch129 across the crowded room toward the door. “But, gee! Mr. Carroll, you—”
Whittaker cut her off.
“He won’t be back, I think,” she observed calmly. “Not for a long time. They’ll find him on some floor after a while. So . . .” She turned to Stacey.
“So we’ll leave you,” he concluded for her. “Thanks awfully131 for the car, Whittaker. And remember what the dinner check comes to. I’ll split it with you later.”
“You will not! My surprise and joy at your behavior are reward enough. Come on! We’ll see you off.”
And presently, when Ethel had put on her wraps, and the car had been brought around, and the two suitcases put in, Whittaker and Minnie stood on the verandah to see the lovers depart.
“If I knew where Ames was I’d get his shoe and throw after you,” called Whittaker, as Stacey started the car.
But there was no sign of Ames.
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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inexplicably
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| adv.无法说明地，难以理解地，令人难以理解的是 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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deadlock
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| n.僵局，僵持 | |
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usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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throbbing
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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hop
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| 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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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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cosier
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| adj.温暖舒适的( cosy的比较级 )；亲切友好的 | |
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19
butting
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| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
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20
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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21
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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22
dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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29
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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30
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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32
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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33
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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34
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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35
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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36
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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37
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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38
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
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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40
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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41
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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42
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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43
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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44
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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45
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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46
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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47
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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48
carafe
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| n.玻璃水瓶 | |
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49
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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50
scurried
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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52
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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54
rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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55
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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56
consummately
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| adv.完成地，至上地 | |
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57
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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58
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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59
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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60
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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62
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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63
toddle
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| v.（如小孩）蹒跚学步 | |
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64
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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65
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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66
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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67
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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68
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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70
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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71
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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72
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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73
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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74
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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75
geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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76
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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77
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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78
stewed
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| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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79
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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80
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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81
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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82
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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83
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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84
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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85
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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86
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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87
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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88
raucously
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| adv.粗声地；沙哑地 | |
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89
tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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90
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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91
judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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92
appraisingly
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| adv.以品评或评价的眼光 | |
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93
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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94
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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95
cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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96
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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97
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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98
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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99
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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100
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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101
complexity
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| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
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102
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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103
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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104
mused
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| 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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105
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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106
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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107
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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108
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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109
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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111
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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112
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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113
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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114
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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115
intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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116
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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117
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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118
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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119
smoldered
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的过去式 ) | |
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120
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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121
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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122
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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123
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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124
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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125
heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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126
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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127
endorse
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| vt.(支票、汇票等)背书，背署；批注；同意 | |
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128
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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129
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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130
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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131
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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