With a little drift of emotion that had at other times assailed14 him in the wonder and ecstasy15 of pure light, Jaffa Codling pushed through the slit16 in the back hedge and stood within his own garden. The gardener was at work. He could hear the voices of the children about the lawn at the other side of the house. He was very happy, and the place was beautiful, a fine white many-windowed house rising from a lawn bowered17 with plots of mould, turretted with shrubs18, and overset with a vast walnut19 tree. This house had deep clean eaves, a roof of faint coloured slates20 that, after rain, glowed dully, like onyx or jade21, under the red chimneys, and half-way up at one end was a balcony set with black balusters. He went to a French window that stood open and stepped into the dining room. There was no-one within, and, on that lonely instant, a strange feeling of emptiness dropped upon him. The clock ticked almost as if it had been caught in some indecent act; the air was dim and troubled after that glory outside. Well, now, he would go up at once to his study and write down for his new book the ideas and images he had accumulated—beautiful rich thoughts they were—during that wonderful afternoon. He went to mount the stairs and he was passed by one of the maids; humming a silly song she brushed past him rudely, but he was an easy-going man—maids were unteachably tiresome—and reaching the landing he sauntered towards his room. The door stood slightly open[85] and he could hear voices within. He put his hand upon the door ... it would not open any further. What the devil ... he pushed—like the bear in the tale—and he pushed, and he pushed—was there something against it on the other side? He put his shoulder to it ... some wedge must be there, and that was extraordinary. Then his whole apprehension22 was swept up and whirled as by an avalanche—Mildred, his wife, was in there; he could hear her speaking to a man in fair soft tones and the rich phrases that could be used only by a woman yielding a deep affection to him. Codling kept still. Her words burned on his mind and thrilled him as if spoken to himself. There was a movement in the room, then utter silence. He again thrust savagely23 at the partly open door, but he could not stir it. The silence within continued. He beat upon the door with his fists, crying; “Mildred, Mildred!” There was no response, but he could hear the rocking arm chair commence to swing to and fro. Pushing his hand round the edge of the door he tried to thrust his head between the opening. There was not space for this, but he could just peer into the corner of a mirror hung near, and this is what he saw: the chair at one end of its swing, a man sitting in it, and upon one arm of it Mildred, the beloved woman, with her lips upon the man’s face, caressing24 him with her hands. Codling made another effort to get into the room—as vain as it was violent. “Do you hear me, Mildred?” he shouted. Apparently25 neither of them heard him; they rocked to and fro while he gazed stupefied. What, in the name of God,[86] ... What this ... was she bewitched ... were there such things after all as magic, devilry!
He drew back and held himself quite steadily26. The chair stopped swaying, and the room grew awfully27 still. The sharp ticking of the clock in the hall rose upon the house like the tongue of some perfunctory mocker. Couldn’t they hear the clock? ... Couldn’t they hear his heart? He had to put his hand upon his heart, for, surely, in that great silence inside there, they would hear its beat, growing so loud now that it seemed almost to stun29 him! Then in a queer way he found himself reflecting, observing, analysing his own actions and intentions. He found some of them to be just a little spurious, counterfeit30. He felt it would be easy, so perfectly31 easy to flash in one blast of anger and annihilate32 the two. He would do nothing of the kind. There was no occasion for it. People didn’t really do that sort of thing, or, at least, not with a genuine passion. There was no need for anger. His curiosity was satisfied, quite satisfied, he was certain, he had not the remotest interest in the man. A welter of unexpected thoughts swept upon his mind as he stood there. As a writer of books he was often stimulated33 by the emotions and impulses of other people, and now his own surprise was beginning to intrigue34 him, leaving him, O, quite unstirred emotionally, but interesting him profoundly.
He heard the maid come stepping up the stairway again, humming her silly song. He did not want a scene, or to be caught eavesdropping35, and so turned quickly to another door. It was locked. He sprang[87] to one beyond it; the handle would not turn. “Bah! what’s up with ’em?” But the girl was now upon him, carrying a tray of coffee things. “O, Mary!” he exclaimed casually36, “I....” To his astonishment37 the girl stepped past him as if she did not hear or see him, tapped upon the door of his study, entered, and closed the door behind her. Jaffa Codling then got really angry. “Hell! were the blasted servants in it!” He dashed to the door again and tore at the handle. It would not even turn, and, though he wrenched38 with fury at it, the room was utterly39 sealed against him. He went away for a chair with which to smash the effrontery40 of that door. No, he wasn’t angry, either with his wife or this fellow—Gilbert, she had called him—who had a strangely familiar aspect as far as he had been able to take it in; but when one’s servants ... faugh!
The door opened and Mary came forth41 smiling demurely42. He was a few yards further along the corridor at that moment. “Mary!” he shouted, “leave the door open!” Mary carefully closed it and turned her back on him. He sprang after her with bad words bursting from him as she went towards the stairs and flitted lightly down, humming all the way as if in derision. He leaped downwards43 after her three steps at a time, but she trotted44 with amazing swiftness into the kitchen and slammed the door in his face. Codling stood, but kept his hands carefully away from the door, kept them behind him. “No, no,” he whispered cunningly, “there’s something fiendish about door handles today, I’ll go and get a bar, or a butt45 of timber,”[88] and, jumping out into the garden for some such thing, the miracle happened to him. For it was nothing else than a miracle, the unbelievable, the impossible, simple and laughable if you will, but having as much validity as any miracle can ever invoke46. It was simple and laughable because by all the known physical laws he should have collided with his gardener, who happened to pass the window with his wheelbarrow as Codling jumped out on to the path. And it was unbelievable that they should not, and impossible that they did not collide; and it was miraculous, because Codling stood for a brief moment in the garden path and the wheelbarrow of Bond, its contents, and Bond himself passed apparently through the figure of Codling as if he were so much air, as if he were not a living breathing man but just a common ghost. There was no impact, just a momentary47 breathlessness. Codling stood and looked at the retreating figure going on utterly unaware48 of him. It is interesting to record that Codling’s first feelings were mirthful. He giggled. He was jocular. He ran along in front of the gardener, and let him pass through him once more; then after him again; he scrambled49 into the man’s barrow, and was wheeled about by this incomprehensible thick-headed gardener who was dead to all his master’s efforts to engage his attention. Presently he dropped the wheelbarrow and went away, leaving Codling to cogitate50 upon the occurrence. There was no room for doubt, some essential part of him had become detached from the obviously not less vital part. He felt he was essential because he was responding to the[89] experience, he was re-acting in the normal way to normal stimuli51, although he happened for the time being to be invisible to his fellows and unable to communicate with them. How had it come about—this queer thing? How could he discover what part of him had cut loose, as it were? There was no question of this being death; death wasn’t funny, it wasn’t a joke; he had still all his human instincts. You didn’t get angry with a faithless wife or joke with a fool of a gardener if you were dead, certainly not! He had realized enough of himself to know he was the usual man of instincts, desires, and prohibitions52, complex and contradictory53; his family history for a million or two years would have denoted that, not explicitly—obviously impossible—but suggestively. He had found himself doing things he had no desire to do, doing things he had a desire not to do, thinking thoughts that had no contiguous meanings, no meanings that could be related to his general experience. At odd times he had been chilled—aye, and even agreeably surprised—at the immense potential evil in himself. But still, this was no mere54 Jekyl and Hyde affair, that a man and his own ghost should separately inhabit the same world was a horse of quite another colour. The other part of him was alive and active somewhere ... as alive ... as alive ... yes, as he was, but dashed if he knew where! What a lark55 when they got back to each other and compared notes! In his tales he had brooded over so many imagined personalities56, followed in the track of so many psychological enigmas57 that he had felt at times[90] a stranger to himself. What if, after all, that brooding had given him the faculty58 of projecting this figment of himself into the world of men. Or was he some unrealized latent element of being without its natural integument59, doomed60 now to drift over the ridge61 of the world for ever. Was it his personality, his spirit? Then how was the dashed thing working? Here was he with the most wonderful happening in human experience, and he couldn’t differentiate62 or disinter things. He was like a new Adam flung into some old Eden.
There was Bond tinkering about with some plants a dozen yards in front of him. Suddenly his three children came round from the other side of the house, the youngest boy leading them, carrying in his hand a small sword which was made, not of steel, but of some more brightly shining material; indeed it seemed at one moment to be of gold, and then again of flame, transmuting63 everything in its neighbourhood into the likeness64 of flame, the hair of the little girl Eve, a part of Adam’s tunic65; and the fingers of the boy Gabriel as he held the sword were like pale tongues of fire. Gabriel, the youngest boy, went up to the gardener and gave the sword into his hands, saying: “Bond, is this sword any good?” Codling saw the gardener take the weapon and examine it with a careful sort of smile; his great gnarled hands became immediately transparent66, the blood could be seen moving diligently67 about the veins68. Codling was so interested in the sight that he did not gather in the gardener’s reply. The little boy was dissatisfied and repeated his question, “No, but[91] Bond, is this sword any good?” Codling rose, and stood by invisible. The three beautiful children were grouped about the great angular figure of the gardener in his soiled clothes, looking up now into his face, and now at the sword, with anxiety in all their puckered69 eyes. “Well, Marse Gabriel,” Codling could hear him reply, “as far as a sword goes, it may be a good un, or it may be a bad un, but, good as it is, it can never be anything but a bad thing.” He then gave it back to them; the boy Adam held the haft of it, and the girl Eve rubbed the blade with curious fingers. The younger boy stood looking up at the gardener with unsatisfied gaze. “But, Bond, can’t you say if this sword’s any good?” Bond turned to his spade and trowels. “Mebbe the shape of it’s wrong, Marse Gabriel, though it seems a pretty handy size.” Saying this he moved off across the lawn. Gabriel turned to his brother and sister and took the sword from them; they all followed after the gardener and once more Gabriel made enquiry: “Bond, is this sword any good?” The gardener again took it and made a few passes in the air like a valiant70 soldier at exercise. Turning then, he lifted a bright curl from the head of Eve and cut it off with a sweep of the weapon. He held it up to look at it critically and then let it fall to the ground. Codling sneaked71 behind him and, picking it up, stood stupidly looking at it. “Mebbe, Marse Gabriel,” the gardener was saying, “it ud be better made of steel, but it has a smartish edge on it.” He went to pick up the barrow but Gabriel seized it with a spasm72 of anger, and cried out: “No, no, Bond, will you say, just yes or no,[92] Bond, is this sword any good?” The gardener stood still, and looked down at the little boy, who repeated his question—“just yes or no, Bond!” “No, Marse Gabriel!” “Thank you, Bond!” replied the child with dignity, “that’s all we wanted to know,” and, calling to his mates to follow him, he ran away to the other side of the house.
Codling stared again at the beautiful lock of hair in his hand, and felt himself grow so angry that he picked up a strange looking flower pot at his feet and hurled73 it at the retreating gardener. It struck Bond in the middle of the back and, passing clean through him, broke on the wheel of his barrow, but Bond seemed to be quite unaware of this catastrophe74. Codling rushed after, and, taking the gardener by the throat, he yelled, “Damn you, will you tell me what all this means?” But Bond proceeded calmly about his work un-noticing, carrying his master about as if he were a clinging vapour, or a scarf hung upon his neck. In a few moments, Codling dropped exhausted75 to the ground. “What.... O Hell ... what, what am I to do?” he groaned76, “What has happened to me? What shall I do? What can I do?” He looked at the broken flowerpot. “Did I invent that?” He pulled out his watch. “That’s a real watch, I hear it ticking, and it’s six o’clock.” Was he dead or disembodied or mad? What was this infernal lapse77 of identity? And who the devil, yes, who was it upstairs with Mildred? He jumped to his feet and hurried to the window; it was shut; to the door, it was fastened; he was powerless to open either. Well![93] well! this was experimental psychology78 with a vengeance79, and he began to chuckle80 again. He’d have to write to McDougall about it. Then he turned and saw Bond wheeling across the lawn towards him again. “Why is that fellow always shoving that infernal green barrow around?” he asked, and, the fit of fury seizing him again, he rushed towards Bond, but, before he reached him, the three children danced into the garden again, crying, with great excitement, “Bond, O, Bond!” The gardener stopped and set down the terrifying barrow; the children crowded about him, and Gabriel held out another shining thing, asking: “Bond, is this box any good?” The gardener took the box and at once his eyes lit up with interest and delight. “O, Marse Gabriel, where’d ye get it? Where’d ye get it?” “Bond,” said the boy impatiently, “Is the box any good?” “Any good?” echoed the man, “Why, Marse Gabriel, Marse Adam, Miss Eve, look yere!” Holding it down in front of them, he lifted the lid from the box and a bright coloured bird flashed out and flew round and round above their heads. “O,” screamed Gabriel with delight, “It’s a kingfisher!” “That’s what it is,” said Bond, “a kingfisher!” “Where?” asked Adam. “Where?” asked Eve. “There it flies—round the fountain—see it? see it!” “No,” said Adam. “No,” said Eve.
“O, do, do, see it,” cried Gabriel, “here it comes, it’s coming!” and, holding his hands on high, and standing81 on his toes, the child cried out as happy as the bird which Codling saw flying above them.
“I can’t see it,” said Adam.
[94]
“Where is it, Gaby?” asked Eve.
“O, you stupids,” cried the boy, “There it goes. There it goes ... there ... it’s gone!”
He stood looking brightly at Bond, who replaced the lid.
“What shall we do now?” he exclaimed eagerly. For reply, the gardener gave the box into his hand, and walked off with the barrow. Gabriel took the box over to the fountain. Codling, unseen, went after him, almost as excited as the boy; Eve and her brother followed. They sat upon the stone tank that held the falling water. It was difficult for the child to unfasten the lid; Codling attempted to help him, but he was powerless. Gabriel looked up into his father’s face and smiled. Then he stood up and said to the others:
“Now, do watch it this time.”
They all knelt carefully beside the water. He lifted the lid and, behold82, a fish like a gold carp, but made wholly of fire, leaped from the box into the fountain. The man saw it dart83 down into the water, he saw the water bubble up behind it, he heard the hiss84 that the junction85 of fire and water produces, and saw a little track of steam follow the bubbles about the tank until the figure of the fish was consumed and disappeared. Gabriel, in ecstasies86, turned to his sister with blazing happy eyes, exclaiming:
“There! Evey!”
“What was it?” asked Eve, nonchalantly, “I didn’t see anything.”
“More didn’t I,” said Adam.
[95]
“Didn’t you see that lovely fish?”
“No,” said Adam.
“No,” said Eve.
“O, stupids,” cried Gabriel, “it went right past the bottom of the water.”
“Let’s get a fishin’ hook,” said Adam.
“No, no, no,” said Gabriel, replacing the lid of the box. “O no.”
Jaffa Codling had remained on his knees staring at the water so long that, when he looked around him again, the children had gone away. He got up and went to the door, and that was closed; the windows, fastened. He went moodily87 to a garden bench and sat on it with folded arms. Dusk had begun to fall into the shrubs and trees, the grass to grow dull, the air chill, the sky to muster88 its gloom. Bond had overturned his barrow, stalled his tools in the lodge89, and gone to his home in the village. A curious cat came round the house and surveyed the man who sat chained to his seven-horned dilemma90. It grew dark and fearfully silent. Was the world empty now? Some small thing, a snail91 perhaps, crept among the dead leaves in the hedge, with a sharp, irritating noise. A strange flood of mixed thoughts poured through his mind until at last one idea disentangled itself, and he began thinking with tremendous fixity of little Gabriel. He wondered if he could brood or meditate92, or “will” with sufficient power to bring him into the garden again. The child had just vaguely93 recognized him for a moment at the waterside. He’d try that dodge94, telepathy was a mild kind of a trick after so much of the miraculous.[96] If he’d lost his blessed body, at least the part that ate and smoked and talked to Mildred.... He stopped as his mind stumbled on a strange recognition.... What a joke, of course ... idiot ... not to have seen that. He stood up in the garden with joy ... of course, he was upstairs with Mildred, it was himself, the other bit of him, that Mildred had been talking to. What a howling fool he’d been.
He found himself concentrating his mind on the purpose of getting the child Gabriel into the garden once more, but it was with a curious mood that he endeavoured to establish this relationship. He could not fix his will into any calm intensity95 of power, or fixity of purpose, or pleasurable mental ecstasy. The utmost force seemed to come with a malicious96 threatening splenetic “entreaty.” That damned snail in the hedge broke the thread of his meditation97; a dog began to bark sturdily from a distant farm; the faculties98 of his mind became joggled up like a child’s picture puzzle, and he brooded unintelligibly99 upon such things as skating and steam engines, and Elizabethan drama so lapped about with themes like jealousy100 and chastity. Really now, Shakespeare’s Isabella was the most consummate101 snob102 in.... He looked up quickly to his wife’s room and saw Gabriel step from the window to the balcony as if he were fearful of being seen. The boy lifted up his hands and placed the bright box on the rail of the balcony. He looked up at the faint stars for a moment or two, and then carefully released the lid of the box. What came out of it and rose into the air appeared to Codling to be just a piece of floating light,[97] but as it soared above the roof he saw it grow to be a little ancient ship, with its hull103 and fully28 set sails and its three masts all of faint primrose104 flame colour. It cleaved105 through the air, rolling slightly as a ship through the wave, in widening circles above the house, making a curving ascent106 until it lost the shape of a vessel107 and became only a moving light hurrying to some sidereal108 shrine109. Codling glanced at the boy on the balcony, but in that brief instant something had happened, the ship had burst like a rocket and released three coloured drops of fire which came falling slowly, leaving beautiful grey furrows110 of smoke in their track. Gabriel leaned over the rail with outstretched palms, and, catching111 the green star and the blue one as they drifted down to him, he ran with a rill of laughter back into the house. Codling sprang forward just in time to catch the red star; it lay vividly blasting his own palm for a monstrous112 second, and then, slipping through, was gone. He stared at the ground, at the balcony, the sky, and then heard an exclamation113 ... his wife stood at his side.
“Gilbert! How you frightened me!” she cried, “I thought you were in your room; come along in to dinner.” She took his arm and they walked up the steps into the dining room together. “Just a moment,” said her husband, turning to the door of the room. His hand was upon the handle, which turned easily in his grasp, and he ran upstairs to his own room. He opened the door. The light was on, the fire was burning brightly, a smell of cigarette smoke about, pen and paper upon his desk, the Japanese book-knife,[98] the gilt114 matchbox, everything all right, no one there. He picked up a book from his desk.... Monna Vanna. His bookplate was in it—Ex Libris—Gilbert Cannister. He put it down beside the green dish; two yellow oranges were in the green dish, and two most deliberately115 green Canadian apples rested by their side. He went to the door and swung it backwards116 and forwards quite easily. He sat on his desk trying to piece the thing together, glaring at the print and the book-knife and the smart matchbox, until his wife came up behind him exclaiming: “Come along, Gilbert!”
“Where are the kids, old man?” he asked her, and, before she replied, he had gone along to the nursery. He saw the two cots, his boy in one, his girl in the other. He turned whimsically to Mildred, saying, “There are only two, are there?” Such a question did not call for reply, but he confronted her as if expecting some assuring answer. She was staring at him with her bright beautiful eyes.
“Are there?” he repeated.
“How strange you should ask me that now!” she said.... “If you’re a very good man ... perhaps....”
“Mildred!”
She nodded brightly.
He sat down in the rocking chair, but got up again saying to her gently—“We’ll call him Gabriel.”
“But, suppose—”
“No, no,” he said, stopping her lovely lips, “I know all about him.” And he told her a pleasant little tale.
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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symbolize
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| vt.作为...的象征，用符号代表 | |
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euphony
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| n.悦耳的语音 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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dykes
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| abbr.diagonal wire cutters 斜线切割机n.堤( dyke的名词复数 )；坝；堰；沟 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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bowered
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| adj.凉亭的，有树荫的 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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savagely
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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steadily
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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stun
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| vt.打昏，使昏迷，使震惊，使惊叹 | |
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counterfeit
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perfectly
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annihilate
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| v.使无效；毁灭；取消 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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intrigue
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eavesdropping
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| n. 偷听 | |
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casually
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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utterly
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effrontery
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41
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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42
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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43
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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44
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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45
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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46
invoke
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| v.求助于(神、法律)；恳求，乞求 | |
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47
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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48
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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49
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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50
cogitate
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| v.慎重思考，思索 | |
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51
stimuli
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| n.刺激（物） | |
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52
prohibitions
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| 禁令，禁律( prohibition的名词复数 )； 禁酒； 禁例 | |
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53
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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54
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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55
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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56
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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57
enigmas
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| n.难于理解的问题、人、物、情况等，奥秘( enigma的名词复数 ) | |
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58
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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59
integument
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| n.皮肤 | |
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60
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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61
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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62
differentiate
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| vi.(between)区分；vt.区别；使不同 | |
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63
transmuting
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的现在分词 ) | |
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64
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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65
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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66
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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68
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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69
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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72
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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73
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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78
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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79
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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81
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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82
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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83
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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85
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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86
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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91
snail
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| n.蜗牛 | |
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92
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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93
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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94
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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95
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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96
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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97
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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98
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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99
unintelligibly
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| 难以理解地 | |
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100
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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101
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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102
snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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103
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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104
primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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105
cleaved
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| v.劈开，剁开，割开( cleave的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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107
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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108
sidereal
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| adj.恒星的 | |
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109
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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110
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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111
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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112
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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113
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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114
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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115
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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116
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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