It was in architecture that he found his way of life, quite a profitable and genteel way; for while other hands and heads devised the mere4 details of drainage, of window and wall, staircase, cupboard, and floor, in fact each mechanical thing down to the hooks and bells in every room, he it was who painted those entrancing draughts5 of elevation6 and the general prospect7 (with a few enigmatic but graceful8 trees, clouds in the offing, and a tiny postman plodding9 sideways up the carriage drive) which lured10 the fond fly into the architectural parlour. It must be confessed that he himself lived in rooms over the shop of a hairdresser, whose window displayed the elegantly coiffed head and bust11 of a wax lady suffering either from an acute attack of jaundice or the effects of a succession of late nights: next door was an establishment dealing12 exclusively, but not exhaustingly, in mangles13 and perambulators. In Bugloss’s room there were two bell handles with wires looking very handy and complete, yet whenever he desired the attendance of the maid he had (a) to take a silver whistle from his pocket; (b) to open the door; and (c) to blow it smartly in the passage.
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His exceeding shyness was humiliating to himself and annoying to people of friendly disposition14, it could not have been more preposterous15 had he been condemned16 to wear a false nose; he might have gone (he may even now be going) to his grave without once looking into a woman’s eyes. What a pity! His own eyes were worth looking at; he was really a nice young man, tall and slender with light fluffy17 hair, who if he couldn’t hide his amiable18 light under a bushel certainly behaved as if it wasn’t there. Things were so until one day he chanced to read with envious19 pleasure but a good deal of scepticism a book called Anatol by a Viennese writer; almost immediately the fascinating possibilities of romantic infidelity were confirmed by a quarrel which began in the hairdresser’s house between the young hairdresser and his wife, Monsieur and Madame Rabignol, and lasted for a week in the course of which Bugloss learned that the hairdresser was indulging in precisely21 one of those intrigues22 with an unknown lady living somewhere near by; Madame Rabignol, charming but virulent23, protested a thousand times that it must be a base woman who walked the streets at night, and that Monsieur Rabignol was a low pig. The fair temptress, it appeared, was given to the use of a toilet unguent24 with the beguiling25 misdescription of “Vanishing Face Cream”; that was an unfortunate circumstance, because the wife of the hairdresser, a very cute woman, on her husband’s return from an evening’s absence, invariably kissed him and smelt26 him.
“Evil communications,” saith St. Paul (borrowing175 the phrase from Menander), “corrupt good manners,” and his notion must have something of truth in it, for these domestic revelations produced an unusual stir in the Bugloss bosom—he bought a ticket for a popular fancy dress ball and made a mighty27 resolve to discard his pusillanimous28 self with one grand gesture and there and then take the plunge29. At a fancy dress ball you could do that; everyone made a fool of himself more or less; and Bugloss determined30 to plunge into whatever there was to plunge in. This was desperately31 unwise, but you are not to suppose that he harboured any looseness or want of principle; he was good and modest, and virtuous32 as any young man could possibly be; he only hoped, at the very least, to look some fair girl deep in the eyes. So he designed an oriental costume, simple to make (being loose-fitting), and having bought quantities of purple and crimson33 fabric34 he wrapped them up and sent the office-boy with his design, materials, measurements, and instructions to a dressmaker in the neighbourhood, whom he wisely thought would make a better job of it than a tailor. When the costume was finished he was delighted; it was magnificent, resplendent, artistic35, and the dressmaker’s charge was moderate.
On the night of the ball, a warm August night with soft thrilling air and a sky of sombre velvet36, he drove in a closed cab. Dancing was in the open, the lawns of a mansion37 were lent for the occasion, and Bugloss went rather late to escape notice—nearly eleven o’clock—but in the cab his timorousness38 conspiring39 against him had deepened to palpitating dejection; he was176 afraid again, the grand gesture was forgotten, and his attire40 was fantastically guarded from the public eye. From his window he had watched the arrival of the cab and had slunk down to it secretly—not a word to the Rabignols!—in a bowler41 hat and a mackintosh that reached to his feet; his fancy shoes were concealed42 under a pair of goloshes, the bright tasselled cap was in his pocket.
Heavens! It was too painful. This was no plunge, this miserable43 sink or swim—it was delirium44, hell—what a stupid man he had been to come—it was no go, it was useless—and he was about to order the cabman to turn back home when the cab stopped at the gates of the mansion, the door was flung open and a big policeman almost dragged him out upon the carpeted pavement. A knot of jocular bystanders caused him to scurry46 into the grounds where three officials—good, bad, and indifferent—examined his ticket and directed him onwards. But the cloak rooms were right across the grounds, the great lawn was simply a bath of illumination, the band played in the centre and the dancers, madly arrayed, were waltzing madly. Bugloss, desiring only some far corner of darkness to flee into, saw on all sides shadowy trees, dim shrubs47, and walks that led to utter gloom—thank God!—and there was a black moonless sky, though even that seemed positively48 to drip with stars.
At this moment the big policeman, following after him, said: “What about this cab, sir?”
“What—yes—this cab!” repeated Bugloss, and to his agonized49 imagination every eye in the grounds became ironically fixed50 upon him alone; even the177 music ceased, and there resounded51 a flutter of coruscating52 amiability53.
“D’ye want him to wait?” the policeman was grinning—“He ain’t got any orders.”
“O, O dear, how much, what’s his fare? I don’t want him again and—gracious! I haven’t a cent on me—what, what—O, please tell him to call at my house to-morrow. Pay him then I will. Please!”
“Righto, my lord!” said the big policeman, saluting—he was a regular joker that fellow. Then Bugloss, trembling in every limb, almost leapt towards one of the dark walks, away from those grinning eyes. The shrubs and trees concealed him, though even here an odd paper lantern or two consorted54 with a few coloured bulbs of light. Shortly he began his observations.
The cloak rooms, he found, could be approached only by crossing the lawn. In a mackintosh, goloshes, and a bowler hat, that was too terrific an ordeal55; the trembling Israelite during that affrighting passage of the Red Sea had all the incitements of escape and the comfort of friends, but this more violent ordeal led into captivity56, and Bugloss was alone. What was to be done? The music began again and it was agreeable, the illuminations were lustrous57 and pretty, the dancers gay, but Bugloss was neither agreeable nor gay, and his prettiness was not yet on the surface. He was in a highly wrought58 condition, he was limp, and he remained in what seclusion59 he could find in the garden, peering like a sinner at some assembly of the blest. At last he snatched off his goloshes and stuffed them in his pocket. “So far,” he murmured,178 “so good. I will hide the mackintosh among the bushes, I can’t face that dressing61 room.” Just then the band gave a heightened blare, drum and cymbals62 were rapidly beaten and the music ceased amid clapping and polite halloing. “Dash it, I must wait till the next dance,” said Bugloss, “and, O lord, there’s a lot of them coming this way.” He turned to retreat into deeper darkness when suddenly, near the musicians, he saw a fascinating girl, a dainty but startling figure skimming across the lawn as if to overtake a friend. Why—yes—she had a wig63 of bright green hair, green; a short-waisted cherry silk jacket and harlequin pantaloons, full at the hips64 but narrowing to the ankles, where white stockings slipped into a pair of gilded65 leather shoes with heels of scarlet66. Delicately charming were her face and figure, entrancing were her movements, and she tinkled67 all over with hidden bells.
“Sweet God, what beauty!” thought Bugloss, “this is She, the Woman to know, I must, I must ... but how?”
She disappeared. For the moment he could not rid himself of the bowler hat and mackintosh, so many couples roamed in the dark glades69; wherever he went he could see the glow of cigarettes, generally in twos, and there were whispering or silent couples standing70 about in unexpected places. Retiring to the darkest corner he had previously71 found he was about to discard his mackintosh when he was startled by a cry at his elbow: “Lena, where are you, what’s that?” and a girl scuttled72 away, calling “Lena! Lena!” Her terror dismayed him, the little shock179 itself brought the sweat to his brow, but the music beginning again drew all the stragglers back to the lawn. There, from his gloomy retreat, he beheld73 the green-haired beauty in the arms of a pirate king who was adorned74 with an admiral’s hat and a dangerous moustache. “If,” thought Bugloss, still in his mufti, “I couldn’t have discovered a better get-up than that fellow, I’d have stayed away. There’s no picture in it, it’s just silly, I couldn’t wear a thing like that, I couldn’t wear it, I’d have perished rather than come.” And indeed there was an absence of imagination about all the male adornment75; many of the ladies were right enough, but some were horrors, and most of the men were horrors; there was justification76 for Bugloss’s subsequent reflection: “I’ll show them, a little later on, what can be done when an artist takes the thing in hand; now after this dance is over.... etc., etc.”
Two lovers startled him by beginning to quarrel. They were passing among the trees behind him and talking quite loudly, both with a slight foreign accent. “But I shall not let you go, Johannes,” said the lady with a fierce little cry. Bugloss turned and could just discern a lady costumed as a vivandière; her companion was in the uniform Of a Danish soldier.
“If you forced me to stop I would kill you,” retorted the man.
“O, you would kill me!”
“If you forced me to stop.”
“You would kill me ... so!”
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“Yes, I would kill you.”
“But you have told me that if I can keep you here in England I may do it. You know. If I can. You know that, Johannes!”
Bugloss was persuaded that he had heard her voice before, though he could not recognize the speaker.
“Be quiet, you are a fool,” the man said. That was all Bugloss heard. It was brutal77 enough. If only a woman, any woman, had wanted him like that!
He wandered about during other dances. The green-haired girl was always with that idiotic78 pirate, and it made things very difficult, because although Bugloss had fallen desperately in love with her he could not, simply could not, march up and drag her away from her companion. He could not as yet even venture from his ambush79 among the trees, and they never wandered in the gloom—they were always dancing together or eating together. He, Bugloss, had no interest in any other woman there, no spark of interest whatsoever80. That being so, why go to all the fuss of discarding the mackintosh and making an exhibition of himself? Why go bothering among that crowd, he was not a dancer at all, he didn’t want to go! But still ... by and by perhaps ... when that lovely treasure was not so extraordinarily81 engaged. Sweet God! she was just ... well, but he could not stand much more of that infernal pirate’s antics with her. Withdrawing his tantalized82 gaze he sat down in darkness behind a clump83 of yew84 trimmed in the shape of some fat animal that resembled a tall hippopotamus85. Here he lit his tenth cigarette. At once a dizziness assailed86 him, he began to see scarlet splashes in the gloom, to feel as if he were being lacerated with tiny pins. Throwing the cigarette away he stretched181 himself at full length under the bush. Scarcely had he done so when he became aware that two others were sitting down on the other side of it, the same foreign couple, the vivandière and her threatening cavalier.
“Listen to me, Hélène,” the man was saying in a soft consoling voice, “you shall trust to me and come away. Together we will go. But here I cannot stay. It is fate. You love, eh? Come then, we will go to Copenhagen, I will take you to my country. Now, Hélène!”
The lady made no reply; Bugloss felt that she must be crying. The Dane continued to woo and the Frenchwoman to murmur60 back to him: “Is it not so, Johannes?” “No, Hélène, no.” But at last he cried angrily: “Pah! Then stop with your bandit, that pig! Pah!” and chattering87 angrily in his strange language he sprang up and stalked away. Hélène rose too and followed him beseechingly88 into the gloom: “No, no, Johannes, no!”
Bugloss got up from the grass; his dizziness was gone. He knew that voice, it seemed impossible, but he knew her, and he had half a mind to rush home: but being without his watch and unable to discover what o’clock it was, he did not care to walk out into the streets with the chance of being guyed by any half-drunken sparks passing late home. He would wait, he was sure it was past midnight now, there would be a partial exodus89 soon, and he would go off unnoticed in the crowd. There was no more possibility now of him shedding his coat and joining the revellers than there was of that beauteous girl182 flying into his arms; his inhibition possessed90 him with tenfold power, he was an imbecile. Sad, pitiful, wretched, outcast! Through the screen of foliage91 the music floated with exquisite92 faintness, luminous93 cadenzas from a gleaming but guarded Eldorado whose light was music, whose music was all a promise and a mockery; he was a miserable prisoner pent in his own unbearable94 but unbreakable shackles95 and dressed up like a doll in a pantomime! Many people had come in their ordinary clothes; why, O why had he put on this maddening paralysing raiment? Why had he come at all?
Some of the lights had begun to fade; at one end of the lawn most of the small lamps had guttered96 out, leaving a line of a dozen chairs in comparative obscurity. Weary of standing, he slunk to the corner chair and sat down with a sigh. Just beside him was a weeping ash that he supposed only looked happy when it rained, and opposite was a poplar straining so hard to brush the heavens that he fancied it would be creaking in every limb. By and by an elderly decorous lady, accompanied by two girls not so decorous—the one arrayed as a Puritan maiden97 and the other as a Scout98 mistress—came and sat near him, but he did not move. They did not perceive the moody99 Bugloss. The elderly lady spoke100: “Do go and fetch her here; no, when this waltz is over. She is very rude, but I want to see her. I can’t understand why she avoids us, and how she is getting on is a mystery to everybody. Bring her here.”
The puritan maiden and the scout mistress, embracing each other, skipped away to the refreshment183 booth. Glorious people sat about there drinking wine as if they disliked it, sipping101 ices as if it were a penance102, and eating remarkable food or doing some other reasonable things, but Bugloss dared not join them although he was very hungry. It was not hunger he wanted to avert103, but an impending104 tragedy.
The hypersensitive creature sees in the common mass of his fellows only something that seeks to deny him, and either in fear of that antagonism106 or in the knowledge of his own imperfections he isolates107 and envelopes the real issue of his being—much as an oyster108 does with the irritant grain in its beard; only the outcome is seldom a pearl and not always as useful as a fish. Bugloss was still wholly enveloped109, and his predicament gave a melancholy110 tone to his thoughts. He sat hunched111 in his chair until the dance ended and the two girls came back, bringing with them the lovely green-haired one!
“Hello, aunt,” she cried merrily enough, “why aren’t you in costume? Like my get-up?”
Without a word the elderly lady kissed her, and all sat down within a few feet of Bugloss. It thrilled him to hear her voice; at least he would be able to recognize that when she turned back again to daylight’s cool civilities.
“Did you know that I had blossomed out in business?” she was saying. Bugloss thought it a beautiful voice.
“I heard of it,” said her aunt, whom you may figure as a lady with a fan, eyeglasses, and the repellant profile of a bird of prey,184 “about half an hour ago. I wish I had heard of it before.”
“I am a full-blown modiste.”
“Yes, you might have told me.”
“But I have told you.”
“You might have told me before.”
“But I haven’t seen you before, aunt.”
“No, we haven’t seen you. How is this business, Claire, is it thriving, making money?”
“O, we get along, aunt,” said the radiant niece in a tone of almost perverse112 amiability. “I have several assistants. Do you know, we made seven of the costumes for this ball—seven—one of them for a man.”
“I thought ladies only made for ladies.”
“So did I, but this order just dropped in upon us very mysteriously, and we did it, from top to toe, a most gorgeous arrangement, all crimson and purple and silver and citron, but I haven’t seen anybody wearing it yet. I wonder if you have? I’m so disappointed. It’s a sultan, or a nabob, or a nankipoo of some kind, I am certain it was for this ball. I was so anxious to see it worn. I had made up my mind to dance at least half the dances with the wearer, it was so lovely. Have you seen such a costume here?”
“No,” said the aunt grimly, “I have not, but I have noticed the pirate king—did you make his costume too? I hope not!”
“O no, aunt,” laughed Claire, “isn’t he a fright?”
“Who is he?”
“That? O, a friend of mine, a business friend.”
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“He seems fond of you.”
“I have known him some time. Yes, I like him. Don’t you like my pirate king?” asked Claire, turning to her two cousins.
The cousins both thought he was splendid.
“I don’t,” declared auntie. “Do you know him very well, has he any intentions? An orphan114 girl living by herself—you have your way to make in the world—I am not presuming to criticize, my dear Claire, but is it wise? Who is he?”
“Yes, aunt,” said Claire. Bugloss could hear the tinkle68 of her bells as she moved a little restlessly.
“Are his intentions honourable115? I should think they were otherwise.”
Claire did not reply immediately. It looked as if the musicians were about to resume. There was a rattle116 of plates and things over at the booth. Then she said reflectively: “I don’t think he has any—what you call honourable intentions.”
“Not! Is he a bad man?”
“O no, I don’t mean that, aunt, no.”
“But what do you mean then, you’re a strange girl, what could his intentions be?”
“He hasn’t any intentions at all.”
“Not one way or the other?”
Claire seemed vaguely117 to hover118 over the significance of this. She said calmly enough: “Not in any way. He’s my hairdresser, a Frenchman, and so clever. He made this beautiful wig and gave it me. What do you think of my beautiful wig, isn’t it sweet?”
There was a note of exasperation119 in the elder woman’s voice:186 “Why don’t you get married, girl?”
“I’d rather work,” said Claire, “and besides, he’s already married.”
The music did begin, and a gentleman garbed120 as a druid came to claim auntie for a dance. The three girls were left alone.
“Did he really give you that wig?” asked the puritan maiden.
“Yes, isn’t it bonny? I love it.” She shook the dangling121 curls about her face. “He’s frightfully clever with hair. French! You know his saloon probably, Rabignol’s in the High Street. His wife is here, you must have seen her too—a French soldier woman—what do you call them? She hates me. She’s with a Danish captain. He is a Dane, but he is really an ice merchant. He thinks she adores him.”
“O Claire!” cried the two shocked cousins.
“But she doesn’t,” said Claire. “Sakes, I’m beginning to shiver; come along.”
They all romped122 back towards the orchestra. Bugloss shivered too and was glad—yes, glad—that she had gone. The tragedy had floated satisfactorily out of his hands, thank the fates; it was Rabignol’s affair. Damn Rabignol! Curse Rabignol! the bandit, the pig! He hoped that Madame Rabignol would elope with Johannes. He hoped the green-haired girl—frail and lovely thing—would behave well; and he hoped finally and frenziedly that Rabignol himself would be choked by the common hangman. Bugloss then wanted to yawn, but somehow he could not. He put on his rubber goloshes again. With unwonted audacity123 he stalked off firmly, even a little fiercely, across the lawn in his187 mackintosh and bowler hat, passing round the fringe of the dancers but looking neither to the right nor to the left, then out of the gates into the dark empty streets and so home. There, feeling rather like a Cromwell made of chutney, he disarrayed124 himself and crept into bed yawning and murmuring to himself:188 “So that’s a fancy dress ball! Sweet God, but I’m glad I went! And I could have shown them something, I could have. Say what you like, but mine was the finest costume at the show; there’s no doubt about that, it was, it was! And I’m very glad I went.”
The chemist had certain odd notions that were an agreeable reflex of his name, which was Oddfellow—Herbert Oddfellow. Our man was odd about diet. It was believed that he lived without cookery, that he browsed125, as it were, upon fruit and salads. Ironically enough he earned a considerable income by the sale of nostrums126 for indigestion. At any hour of the day you were likely to find him devouring127 apples, nibbling128 artichokes, or sucking an orange, and your inquiry129 for a dose of bismuth or some such aid would cause by an obscure process a sardonic130 grin to assemble upon his face. You would scarcely have expected to find a lot of indigestion in the working-class neighbourhood where his pharmacy131 flourished, but it was there, certainly; he was quite cynical132 about it—his business throve abundantly upon dietary disorders133.
There were four big ornamental134 carboys in his shop windows—red, violet, green, and yellow; incidentally he sold peppermint135 drops and poisons, and at forty years of age he was reputed to be the happiest, as he was certainly the healthiest, man in the county. This was not merely because he was unmarried ... but there, I declare this tale is not about Oddfellow himself, but about his lethal136 chamber137.
You must know that the sacrificial exactions of the war did not spare cats and dogs. They, too, were immolated—but painlessly—scores of them, at Oddfellow’s. He was unhappy about that part of his business, very much so; he loved animals, perhaps189 rather more than people, for, naturally, what he ministered to in his pharmacy was largely human misery138 or human affectation. Evil cruel things—the bolt of a gaol139, the lime of the bird-snarer, the butcher’s axe—maddened him.
In the small garden at the back of the dispensary the interments were carried out by Horace the errand boy, a juvenile140 with snub nose and short, tough hair, who always wore ragged45 puttees. He delighted in such obsequies, and had even instituted some ceremonial orgies. But at last these lethal commissions were so numerous that the burial-ground began to resemble the habitat of some vast, inappeasable mole141, and thereupon Oddfellow had to stipulate142 for sorrowing owners to conduct the interments themselves in cemeteries143 of their own. Even this provision did not quell144 the inflow of these easily disposable victims.
Mr. Franks brought him a magnificent cat to be destroyed. (Shortly afterwards Franks was conveyed to the lunatic asylum145, an institution which still nurtures146 him in despotic durance.) Pending105 the return of Horace, who was disbursing147 remedial shrapnel to the neighbourhood, the cat, tied to a rail in the shop, sat dozing148 in the sunlight.
“What a beautiful cat!” exclaimed a lady caller, stroking its purring majesty149. The lady herself was beautiful. Oddfellow explained that its demise150 was imminent—nothing the matter with it—owner didn’t want it.
“How cruel, you sweet thing, how cruel!” pronounced the lady, who really was very beautiful.190 “I would love to have it. Why shouldn’t I have it ... if its owner doesn’t want it? I wonder. May I?”
Manlike was Oddfellow, beautiful was the lady; the lady took the cat away. Twenty-four hours later the shop counter was stormed by the detestable Franks, incipient151 insanity152 already manifest in him. He carried the selfsame cat under his arm—it had returned to its old home. Franks assailed the abashed153 chemist with language that at its mildest was abusive and libellous. His chief complaint seemed to repose154 upon the circumstance of having paid for the cat’s destruction, whereupon Oddfellow who, like an Irishman, never walked into an argument—he simply bounced in—threw down the fee upon the counter and urged Mr. Franks to take his cat, and his money, and himself away as speedily as might be. This reprehensible155 behaviour did by no means allay156 the tension; the madman-designate paraded many further signs of his impending doom157.
“Take your cat away, I tell you,” shouted Oddfellow, “take it away. I wouldn’t destroy it for a thousand pounds!”
“You won’t, oh?”
“Put an end to you with pleasure!”
“Yes?”
“Make you a present of a dose of poison whenever you like to come and take it!”
“Yes?”
“I will!”
Franks went away with his tom-cat.
“O ... my ... lord!” ejaculated the chemist, that being his favourite evocation;191 “I’ll do no more of this cat-and-dog business. I shall not do any more; no, I shall not. I do not like it at all.”
But in the afternoon his assistant, who had not been informed of this resolve, accepted two more victims for the lethal chamber, another tom-cat and a collie dog.
“O ... my ... lord!” groaned the chemist distractedly; but there was no help for it, and, calling his boy Horace, they carried the cat into the storeroom. The lethal box was in a corner; all round were shelves of costly158 drugs. The place did not smell of death; it smelt of paint, oils, volatile159 spirits, tubs of white lead, and packing-cases that contained scented160 soap or feeding-bottles. As Oddfellow prepared his syringe, a sporting friend named Jerry peeped in to watch the proceedings161.
“Shut the door!” cried little Horace. “I can’t hold him.... He’s off!”
Sure enough the cat, sensing its danger, had burst from his arms and sprung to one of the shelves. Immediately phials of drugs began to fall and smash upon the floor, and as the cat rushed and scurried162 from their grasp disaster was heaped upon disaster; the green, glowing eyes, the rigid163 teeth, that seemed to grow as large as a tiger’s, confounded them, and the havoc164 deterred165 them; they dared not approach the spitting fury, it was a wild beast again, and a bold one.
“O ... my ... lord!” said Oddfellow, also swearing softly, for bottles continued to slip from shelf to floor. “What’s to be done?”
“Open the door—let the flaming thing go,” said Jerry.
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“No fear,” replied the chemist, “I’ve had enough of these dead cats turning up like Banquo’s ghost—just enough.”
Horace intervened. “My father’s got a gun, sir; shall I run round home and get it?”
Jerry’s eyes began to gleam, the costly phials kept dropping to the floor—the chemist distractedly agreed—the boy Horace ran home and fetched a rook rifle. But his prowess was so poor, his aim so disastrous—he shot a hole through a barrel of linseed oil and received a powerful squirt of it in his eye—that Jerry deprived him of the weapon. Even then several rounds had to be fired, a carboy of acid was cracked, a window smashed, a lamp blown to pieces, before poor tom was finally subdued166. Oddfellow had gone into the shop. He could not bring himself to witness the dismal167 slaughter168. Every repercussion169 sent a pang170 of pity to his heart, and when at last the bleeding body of the cat was laid in the yard to await removal by its owner he almost vomited171 and he almost wept; if he had not sniffed172 the bunch of early primroses173 in his buttonhole he would surely have done one or the other.
“Now the dog,” whispered the chemist. The collie was very subdued, good dog, he gave no trouble at all, good dog, he was hustled174 into the big box, good dog, and quietly chloroformed. Later on, a countryman with his cart called for the body. The old woman who owned it was going to make a hearthrug with the skin. It was enveloped in a sack; the countryman carried it out on his shoulder like a butcher carrying the carcase of a sheep and flung it193 into the cart. The callousness175 of this struck Mr. Oddfellow so profoundly that he announced there and then, positively and finally, that he would undertake no more business of that kind, and doubly to insure this the lethal box was taken into the yard and chopped up.
Now, the poor old woman who owned the dog called next day at the chemist’s shop. Behind her walked the very collie. For a moment or two Oddfellow feared that he was to be haunted by the walking ghost of cats and dogs for evermore. Said the old woman: “Please, sir, you must do him again; he’s woke up!”
She described at great length the dog’s strange revival176. It stood humbly177 enough in the background, a little drowsy178, but not at all uneasy.
“No,” cried Oddfellow firmly; “can’t do it—destroyed my tackle. You take him home, ma’am; he’s all right. Dog that’s been through that ought to live a long life. Take him home again, ma’am,” he urged, “he’s all right.”
The woman was old; she was feeble and poor; she was not able to keep him now, he was such a big dog. Wasn’t it hard enough to get him food, things were so dear, and now there was the licence money due! She hadn’t got it; she never would have it; she really couldn’t afford it.
“You take him, sir, and keep him, sir.”
“No, I can’t keep a dog—no room.”
“Have him, sir,” she pleaded; “you’ll be kind to him.”
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“No, no; ... but ... if it’s only his licence ... I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay for his licence rather than destroy him.”
Putting his hand into the till, he laid three half-crowns before her. The old woman stared at the chemist, but she stared still more at the money. Then, thanking him with quaint179, confused dignity, she gathered it up, but again stood gazing meditatively180 at the three big coins, now lying, so unexpectedly, in her thin palm.
“Good dog,” said the chemist, giving him a final pat. “Good dog!”
Then the poor old woman, with tears in her eyes, turned out of Mr. Oddfellow’s shop and, followed by her dog, walked off to a quarter of the town where there was another chemist who kept a lethal chamber.
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agate
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| n.玛瑙 | |
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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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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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mere
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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6
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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7
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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8
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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9
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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10
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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11
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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12
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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13
mangles
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| n.轧布机，轧板机，碾压机（mangle的复数形式）vt.乱砍（mangle的第三人称单数形式） | |
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14
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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16
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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17
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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18
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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19
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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20
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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21
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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22
intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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23
virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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24
unguent
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| n.（药）膏；润滑剂；滑油 | |
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25
beguiling
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| adj.欺骗的，诱人的v.欺骗( beguile的现在分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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26
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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27
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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28
pusillanimous
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| adj.懦弱的，胆怯的 | |
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29
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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30
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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31
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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32
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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33
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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34
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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35
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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36
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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37
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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38
timorousness
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| n.羞怯，胆怯 | |
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39
conspiring
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| 密谋( conspire的现在分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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40
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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41
bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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42
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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43
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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44
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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45
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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46
scurry
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| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
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47
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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48
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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49
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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50
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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51
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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52
coruscating
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| v.闪光，闪烁( coruscate的现在分词 ) | |
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53
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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54
consorted
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| v.结伴( consort的过去式和过去分词 )；交往；相称；调和 | |
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55
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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56
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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57
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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58
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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59
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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60
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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61
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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62
cymbals
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| pl.铙钹 | |
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63
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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64
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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65
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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66
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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67
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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68
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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69
glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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70
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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71
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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72
scuttled
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| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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73
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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74
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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75
adornment
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| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
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76
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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77
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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78
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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79
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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80
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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81
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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82
tantalized
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| v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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84
yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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85
hippopotamus
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| n.河马 | |
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86
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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87
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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88
beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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89
exodus
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| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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90
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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91
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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92
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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93
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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94
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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95
shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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96
guttered
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| vt.形成沟或槽于…（gutter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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97
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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98
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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99
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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100
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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101
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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102
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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103
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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104
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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105
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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106
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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107
isolates
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| v.使隔离( isolate的第三人称单数 )；将…剔出（以便看清和单独处理）；使（某物质、细胞等）分离；使离析 | |
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108
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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109
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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111
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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112
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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113
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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114
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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115
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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116
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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117
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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118
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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119
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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120
garbed
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| v.（尤指某类人穿的特定）服装，衣服，制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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122
romped
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| v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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123
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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124
disarrayed
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| vt.使混乱（disarray的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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125
browsed
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| v.吃草( browse的过去式和过去分词 )；随意翻阅；（在商店里）随便看看；（在计算机上）浏览信息 | |
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126
nostrums
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| n.骗人的疗法，有专利权的药品( nostrum的名词复数 )；妙策 | |
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127
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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128
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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129
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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130
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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131
pharmacy
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| n.药房，药剂学，制药业，配药业，一批备用药品 | |
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132
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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133
disorders
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| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
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134
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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135
peppermint
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| n.薄荷，薄荷油，薄荷糖 | |
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136
lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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137
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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138
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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139
gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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140
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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141
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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142
stipulate
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| vt.规定，（作为条件）讲定，保证 | |
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143
cemeteries
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| n.（非教堂的）墓地，公墓( cemetery的名词复数 ) | |
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144
quell
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| v.压制，平息，减轻 | |
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145
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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146
nurtures
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| 教养，培育( nurture的名词复数 ) | |
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147
disbursing
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| v.支出，付出( disburse的现在分词 ) | |
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148
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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149
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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150
demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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151
incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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152
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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153
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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155
reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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156
allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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157
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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158
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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159
volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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160
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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161
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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162
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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163
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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164
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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165
deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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167
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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168
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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169
repercussion
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| n.[常pl.](不良的)影响，反响，后果 | |
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170
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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171
vomited
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172
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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173
primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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174
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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175
callousness
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176
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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177
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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178
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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179
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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180
meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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