As might have been expected the experiment was not a success. Even before dinner was over Rafella perceived her mistake. She had hoped so much from the evening--hoped that her husband and Mr. Kennard would make friends, that in future all would be pleasant and smooth.
Instead of which George broke his promise, and behaved like a bear. He was a man who could not conceal4 his aversions, and seldom attempted to do so; and the mere6 sight of Mr. Kennard at his table, sleek7 and urbane8, and indifferent to his dislike, incensed9 him and rendered him glum10 and ungracious. He talked, when he talked at all,
[pg 56]
only to Mrs. Greaves, who, with her husband and Mr. Munro, made up the party of six. Mrs. Greaves saw with foreboding the look in George Coventry's eyes as he watched his wife and Mr. Kennard conversing11 with intimate ease, and she felt as if they were eating their dinner with an explosive beneath the table. How she wished Rafella were not such a self-confident fool! Since the day on which she had met the pair riding together Rafella had carefully avoided being alone with her; she hoped when they repaired to the drawing-room that she might have a chance of introducing a word of advice, but whether by intention or otherwise the tête-à-tête was evaded12; coffee was served in the dining-room, and later they all left the table together.
Mrs. Coventry preserved a semblance13 of good spirits during the uncomfortable hour that followed. She warbled a few English ballads14 while her husband scowled15 in a corner and Mr. Kennard turned over the songs for his hostess. He alone of the company appeared quite unaffected by the strain in the atmosphere.
Mrs. Greaves rose early to go, and Mr. Munro escaped simultaneously16. As they drove out of the compound, Mrs. Greaves said to her husband:
"What an appalling17 evening! I can't think how Rafella persuaded her husband to let her invite
[pg 57]
that odious18 man. Evidently he did it under protest. I only hope he didn't look back into the drawing-room when he was seeing us off."
Mrs. Greaves, looking back, had observed Mr. Kennard bending over Rafella at the piano, obviously uttering words that caused her to lower her head in self-conscious confusion.
"I'm certain," Mrs. Greaves added, "he was taking the opportunity when our backs were turned of saying something he shouldn't."
"Well, it's no business of ours," said Captain Greaves, with masculine unconcern. "Kennard's a rascal19, and the woman's an ass20, as I've always told you; and if Coventry can't manage his wife it's his own fault. Anyway, you can do nothing to stop it, so you'd better not interfere21."
"But I shall interfere," said his wife. "I can't see Rafella wrecking22 her happiness, and not say a word."
Captain Greaves only shrugged23 his shoulders and urged the pony24 along.
What Mr. Kennard had been saying to Rafella, when her husband had left the room, was this:
"I'm afraid I did wrong to come. I hope it won't mean a bad time for you afterwards?"
"I--I hoped it would have been all right," Rafella faltered25, gazing down at the keys of the piano.
[pg 58]
He sighed. "Give a dog a bad name," he quoted despairingly. "In future I suppose I'd better keep away. It would be wiser for your sake. I'd do anything to save you bother and prevent misunderstandings. I should be the only one to suffer, and I dare say I deserve it."
"Oh, I am so sorry! I can't tell you how sorry and ashamed I feel." Her eyes were full of tears as she raised them to his for a moment.
"You know you've only to tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it, Rafella."
"Hush27!" she said tremulously. "If you talk like that, I shall be obliged to tell you to keep away."
"Would you miss me--would you mind if you never saw me again?" Before she could answer, he raised his voice. "And so you see there was nothing else to be done," he said cheerfully, for Coventry had re-entered the room.
Mr. Kennard accepted a drink offered with curtness28 by his host, and then he went back to his bungalow29.
Rafella tidied her music in offended silence. She felt very angry with George. He had behaved so rudely and spoilt the evening, and she meant him to feel her displeasure. George also was silent, provokingly silent; he smoked a cigarette and drank a whisky and soda30, and did not appear
[pg 59]
to be conscious of her annoyance31. At last she threw down a volume of songs with a bang on the piano, and burst into tears. To her astonished resentment32 George took no notice. It was the first time since their marriage that her tears had not melted his heart. In a passion of mortification33 she rushed from the room. With her usual self-righteous consideration she never exacted her ayah's attendance the last thing at night, so there was no need to check her distress34 in her bedroom. Still crying she quickly undressed and got into bed, and then she lay waiting for George to come in and say he was sorry, to own himself in the wrong.
She could hear him moving about in his dressing-room. Several times she was tempted5 to call him, but pride held her dumb, so convinced did she feel that he owed her amends35 for his conduct, that the first advances should come from him. But she waited in vain. George remained in his room; and Rafella, exhausted36 with tears and emotion, finally fell asleep.
When she awoke in the morning, later than usual, she was told that the sahib had gone forth37 at daybreak to shoot, and had left her a message to say that he should not return till the evening. Often when George had arranged to take a day's shooting, he slept in his dressing-room so that he
[pg 60]
should not disturb Rafella by rising at dawn, and it was rather a relief to feel that the present occasion would give rise to no comment among the servants. She remembered that to-night he was dining at mess, and she determined38 rancorously that she would not be in to receive him when he came home to dress.
Before she was out of her room a note and a book and a posy of violets came from Mr. Kennard. She replied to the note with a smile of bitter complacency curving her lips.
That evening Mrs. Greaves turned over the pages of a fashion paper in a corner of the club. It was previous to the days when "going to the club" had ceased to be a popular proceeding39; it was not yet considered more civilised to go home with a few particular friends for the interval40 before dinner. The ladies' room was filled with groups of people refreshing41 themselves with tea after healthy exercise afoot or on horseback, or on the river, and the lofty building resounded42 with voices and laughter. The hot weather was within measurable distance, but the days were still pleasant, and the general exodus43 to the hills had not begun. The tennis courts in the public gardens were crowded every evening, the bandstand well surrounded, the Mall lively with riders and drivers;
[pg 61]
and the last ball of the season had yet to take place.
Mrs. Greaves had played four sets of tennis, and now she was waiting for her husband to join her from the polo ground.
Two women seated themselves at a tea-table just in front of her, and though she was absorbed in making up her mind whether to send home for one of the seductive blouses sketched44 on the advertisement page of the paper, she heard, unavoidably, scraps45 of their talk. First they discussed the ball that the bachelors of the station were giving next night in return for hospitality extended to them throughout the cold weather by the married members of the community. It was, they believed, to be an exceptionally brilliant affair; the supper was to include pomfrets from Bombay, and confections from Peliti's--the Buszard of India. From this they went on to the subject of their gowns for the ball.
Then one of them said: "Look! There's Mrs. Coventry, and, needless to say, Mr. Kennard."
The other looked up sharply; so did Mrs. Greaves, and this was the conversation that reached her unwilling46 ears.
"Did you ever see such a change in anyone? You weren't here when she came out as a bride? No, of course, I remember, you were at home.
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I assure you she looked like a Salvation47 Army lass, or a charity school girl, her hair dragged back in a knob like a door-handle, and hideous48 clothes. She would hardly speak to a man, and was horrified49 at everything and everybody. And now behold50 her, with a fringe, and dressed as well as anyone in the place, and, of all men, the irresistible51 Mr. Kennard in attendance. The boys' brigade appears to have been disbanded in his favour. He likes the field to himself."
"What will be the end of it, do you think?"
The other shrugged her shoulders. "What has been the end of all his affairs with women? Scandal and unpleasantness for them, and certainly, in one instance at least, disgrace and divorce, while he has gone scot free. He was notorious before he came here from the Punjaub, and yet he goes on as if nothing had happened. Some people run after him because he's a rich barrister and can entertain, and gives himself airs. Look at that little idiot over there, hanging on his every word. Her husband would be furious. I dare say he'll be here in a minute, and then we shall see."
Mrs. Greaves left her seat. She intended that these "tattle-snakes," as she dubbed52 all scandalmongers, should suffer disappointment. If she could help it there should be no thrilling little
[pg 63]
scene for them to witness with malevolent53 enjoyment54. Deliberately55 she made her way across the room towards the couple under observation.
Mr. Kennard rose at once and gave her his chair, drawing another one forward for himself. He looked very handsome, very self-contained; even Mrs. Greaves was grudgingly56 conscious of his attraction, much as she distrusted and disliked him.
"Rafella," she began in plausible57 entreaty58, "could you possibly give me a lift home? My old man has evidently forgotten that he was to pick me up on his way back from polo, and we've people coming to dinner. I shall hardly have time to make the salad and put out the dessert!"
Mrs. Coventry hesitated perceptibly. She looked at Mr. Kennard, who did not return her glance. His face was blandly60 impassive.
"Are you waiting for your husband?" inquired Mrs. Greaves. "If so, perhaps Mr. Kennard would drive me home." She hoped with fervour that her own husband would not arrive inconveniently61, before she could complete her manœuvre.
Mrs. Greaves, remembering that Mr. Kennard's bungalow was next door to that of the Coventrys, felt more than ever determined to lure62 Rafella away, and to take the opportunity of speaking her mind. She, of course, could not know that Mrs.
[pg 64]
Coventry had intended to remain at the club till her husband must have started for the mess. She was only aware that Rafella was reluctant to leave.
"Oh, then," she said cheerfully, "that's all right. Would you mind if we started at once?" She turned to Mr. Kennard. "If my husband should turn up after all, would you tell him I've gone? It will serve him right for being so late."
Presently the two women were driving swiftly along the broad road that led from the club to the native cavalry63 lines. Mrs. Greaves kept up a desultory64 flow of small talk until they arrived at the steps of the veranda65. Then she said urgently: "Rafella, I want you to come in for a moment."
"But you'll be busy."
"No, I shan't. Look here, Rafella, we haven't anybody dining with us, and Jim hadn't forgotten to call for me. He's probably at the club now, and when he finds I've gone home, he'll stay and play billiards66, or something, for a bit. I perjured67 myself on your account, and I want you to come in and hear why I did it."
Unwillingly68, and with an air of offended mystification, Mrs. Coventry complied.
"What on earth do you mean?" she inquired once they were inside the comfortable drawing-room. "How could you tell me such dreadful untruths?"
[pg 65]
She stood, looking disturbed and suspicious, in the yellow lamplight, while Mrs. Greaves shook up the fat cushions on the sofa and pushed her gently in among them. Then she explained. She repeated part of the conversation she had overheard at the club, she expressed her own opinion of Mr. Kennard, and she told Mrs. Coventry in plain words that she was making a fool of herself.
Flushed and indignant, Rafella sprang up from the nest of cushions.
"It's intolerable!" she cried. "I won't listen. You are every bit as bad as those two poisonous women you overheard talking. Your mind must be as evil as theirs. I tell you there is no harm in my friendship with Mr. Kennard; he has been awfully69 kind to me, sending me flowers and lending me books, and I hope I have been of some help to him; he is grateful, that is all."
"His gratitude70 will be mistaken by other people for something not quite so harmless," warned Mrs. Greaves; and Rafella did feel a little disturbed in her conscience as she remembered the tone of his voice and his use of her Christian71 name on the previous night. But she assured herself George was to blame, indirectly72, for that; Mr. Kennard had forgotten himself at the moment only because he felt so indignant with George for his conduct towards her. It was simply an outburst of chivalrous73
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sympathy, though, of course, she would never permit it to happen again.
Marion Greaves was still talking. "As long as you only played about with a lot of nice, harmless boys, I knew you were safe enough; but the moment this man began to single you out----"
"I have never 'played about,' as you vulgarly put it," interrupted Rafella furiously. "The boys are just like brothers to me. They miss their women relations at home, and I can give them advice, and listen to their troubles, and often help them very much. They know I don't want them to make love to me, and that I wouldn't allow such a thing!"
"If you were old and plain, they wouldn't ask for your help and advice. But that is beside the point. We are talking now about Mr. Kennard."
"And I tell you again there is no harm in our friendship, and as long as my conscience is clear the friendship will continue."
"You know your husband hates him," said Mrs. Greaves bluntly, "so your conscience can't be completely clear."
The flush died away from Rafella's cheeks; she twisted her fingers together, and her voice shook as she answered defiantly74: "He should be the last person to misjudge me, or to put a wrong construction on my friendships."
[pg 67]
Mrs. Greaves wished to goodness the girl would break down and cry, then she might be more easy to manage. But there she stood, pale and pig-headed, so silly, and the other woman longed to shake her. Of course the little fool was flattered by the man's attentions, fatally attracted by his arts and wiles75, and with a husband like Coventry, who had always been hard on the frailties76 of women, intolerant even of harmless flirtation77, there was bound to be serious trouble sooner or later. What was to be done!
Mrs. Greaves struggled to keep her temper. "Well, my dear," she urged gently, "all I can say is that you'd better be careful. Mr. Kennard's friendships with other men's wives have never yet been regarded as blameless! And I ask you--is it worth the risk of a row with your husband? Wouldn't it be wiser to quarrel with Mr. Kennard than with the man you must live with for the rest of your life?"
Even Rafella could hardly deny the plain common sense of this pleading. She evaded the question, repeated that she had done nothing unworthy, and said that if George could not trust her----
"Oh, good heavens!" Mrs. Greaves broke in wearily. "Of course George trusts you. But he can't bear you to be talked about, and you ought
[pg 68]
to consider his feelings. Anyone can see you are making him jealous. Those women in the club this evening were thirsting for him to come in and find you sitting alone with Mr. Kennard."
"India is a wicked place!" cried Rafella; "full of gossips and scandalmongers and evil-minded people. Why can't they leave one alone?"
"My good girl, India is no worse than any other part of the globe that is inhabited by human beings," argued Mrs. Greaves; "but out here we are all necessarily thrown a great deal together, and women of our class associate with men much more than is usual or possible for us to do at home. If we are sensible it does us and the men no manner of harm, rather the reverse. If we are fools it may turn our heads, and then, of course, the men will amuse themselves accordingly."
"My head is not turned," said Rafella, like a child; and with an effort Mrs. Greaves forbore to contradict her. It was clear that nothing further could be said at present without endangering their friendship, which for Rafella's sake was not to be desired.
"Well, don't let us argue about it any more. We'll drop the subject. And do stay and dine with us, as your husband is out to-night and you're alone."
[pg 69]
"No, thank you," refused Rafella with stiff politeness; and she went to the door.
Persuasion78 failed to move her, and with a kindly79, regretful "good-night" Mrs. Greaves watched her climb into her trap and drive away. She had an uneasy suspicion that Rafella's determined refusal was due not so much to her outraged80 feelings as to either the hope, or the certainty, that Mr. Kennard would come over to see her during the evening.
Rafella wept when she got home. She felt like a persecuted81 Christian, and she could not touch her solitary82 meal. It was true that her conscience was clear of wrongdoing and of any attempt to deceive. The differences between herself and her husband regarding her innocent "friendship" had, of course, been very distressing83, but George was to blame; he was entirely84 in the wrong. She considered that instead of being cross and disagreeable, George ought to encourage her to exercise her influence for good, especially with a man like Mr. Kennard, if all that was said of him was true--which she did not believe. George's hostility85 towards Mr. Kennard had aroused all the obstinacy86 in her nature. Her self-esteem was wounded. It was positively87 insulting of George to question her conduct. She might as well suspect him of gambling88 because he played cards, or of drinking
[pg 70]
because he was not a teetotaller. Whatever George, or Mrs. Greaves, or anyone else might say, she was not going to treat Mr. Kennard as though he were a scoundrel, nor to behave as if she had done wrong herself. Why should she forgo59 the pleasure of his society, and why should she deprive him of her sympathy and her friendship, which she knew was of comfort and help to him, merely because a few spiteful people chose to see evil where no evil existed?
After pretending to eat her dinner, she lay on the sofa and tried to read one of the books Mr. Kennard had lent her. It was called "Degeneration," and she found it very difficult to follow; still, he had told her that she ought to take an interest in every phase of human nature, and she plodded89 through the first few pages. She soon found that she could not fix her attention. As a matter of fact, the subject of the book was beyond her simple understanding; and, in addition, she was listening, subconsciously90, for footsteps in the veranda.
At last she rose and wandered out into the garden, feeling very lonely, very much aggrieved91. Self-pity overwhelmed her. Looking back upon the period that had passed since her arrival as a bride in India, so eager, so happy, so filled with faith in the future, it all seemed to her like a long
[pg 71]
and exhausting dream; and now she was conscious of nothing but doubt, disillusion92, and righteous indignation.
And, indeed, the whole machinery93 of Rafella's mental outlook was deranged94 and dislocated. Her perceptions had been weakened by the effort to adjust her mind to unaccustomed circumstances, and she mistook her own failure to resist deterioration95 for a sort of jealous plot on the part of other people to undermine her judgment96 and her purity of purpose.
She paced the patch of drive that showed ghostly and grey in the starlight. Through the thin screen of oleander trees that, with a low mud barrier, divided the Coventrys' compound from the compound of their neighbour Mr. Kennard, she could see the lights of his bungalow. She thought of him with tenderness as one who, like herself, was a victim of the little-minded. The voluptuous97 warmth and peace of the night soothed98 her over-excited nerves.... She wished that Mr. Kennard would come over and talk to her. She had felt so confident that he would come, if only for just a few minutes, knowing that she was alone. A little breeze caressed99 her face in soft, warm waves; as she paused beneath the trees they seemed to lean towards her in the darkness with whispers of support and consolation100. The furtive101
[pg 72]
noises of the Indian night did not alarm her--a rustle102 in the undergrowth, the sudden flapping of a flying fox, the flitter of a bat, the distant squealing103 of some helpless little creature in the agonies of capture by a foe104. She went on, as in a dream, until she reached the gateless entrance of the compound, where she paused, standing26 in the loose white dust that still retained the heat of the day. An ekka passed, with jingling105 bells, along the road outside, then a creaking cart close-packed with pilgrims on their journey to some sacred shrine106, chanting sleepily a song of prayer and praise. Silent-footed travellers, enshrouded in their cotton sheets, slipped by and disappeared like wraiths107.
"Mrs. Coventry--is that you?"
Involuntarily she started, though she knew she did not feel surprised. Kennard had come out of his gate, and was standing at her side; she had not heard his footsteps in the dust. His figure, in the starlight, looked black and indistinct, save for his white shirt-front and the burning end of his cigar. It suddenly struck Rafella that, since she had known Mr. Kennard, the odour of strong cigars was no longer repugnant to her--she who had always detested108 the smell of tobacco, who had never grown really accustomed to George's innumerable cigarettes! Vaguely109 she wondered why this should be, as he stood talking--talking, she
[pg 73]
noticed, as superficially as if they had been in a room full of listening people--about the warmth of the night and the approaching hot weather, and how difficult it was to settle down to a book or anything else in a stuffy110 bungalow after dinner, with mosquitoes biting one's ankles, etc. Rafella appreciated the delicacy111 of his attitude; she thought it exceedingly nice of him not to attempt to take any advantage of the situation. And yet if George were to see them together now, he would straightway assume that Mr. Kennard was making love to her, and that she was allowing him to do so!
The thought of her husband gave her a feeling of uneasiness. She did not know how long it was since she had left the house; it might have been equally hours or minutes ago as far as she was concerned; George might return any moment and discover her here by the road in the darkness with Mr. Kennard, and of course he would never believe----
She said: "I think I had better go back." Yet still she lingered, captive to the magic of the night, and the heavy scent112 of blossoms mingling113 with the fumes114 of his cheroot; held, also, by the lurement of his presence, and a novel sense of high adventure.
"You know you ought not to come out at night
[pg 74]
without a lantern," he told her. "It's just the time of year when snakes begin to lie about in the dust and are still half-torpid from the winter."
"Then why did you come out without a lantern?" she asked, picking up her skirts a little anxiously.
At first he did not answer. Then he said: "Perhaps I'd better not explain." He paused. "After all," he added, "I don't see why I shouldn't tell you. The truth is I just felt I must come and stand at your gate, and I forgot all about lanterns and snakes."
"Why couldn't you have come over, lantern and all, after dinner for a chat?"
She would not recognise his meaning, thrilled though she was by his homage115.
"I knew you were alone. Would it have been wise?"
"Well, perhaps not," she agreed, "and it's also not wise for us to stay talking here in the dark with snakes all over the place; I must go in. Good-night, Mr. Kennard."
He held her hand. "You'll keep me some dances to-morrow night, won't you? I'm one of your hosts, remember. Promise you won't disappoint me?"
"Of course not," she promised him gently, withdrawing her hand.
[pg 75]
He hesitated. "I think I'll just see you as far as the steps of the veranda. I should feel more comfortable. I can go back by the gap in the boundary--where it's broken, you know."
She knew. He had often come over that way in the daytime.
They strolled to the veranda steps in silence; then again they said "Good-night," and Kennard vanished swiftly in the darkness.
"Won't you borrow one of our lanterns?" she called after him, remembering with horror the danger of snakes.
There came no answer, for at that moment Rafella's husband drove in at the gate.
"Were you calling to someone?" he inquired, with surly suspicion, as he joined her in the veranda.
For the first time in her life Rafella told a deliberate lie. "No," she said, her heart fluttering painfully with fear and shame. "I had only just come out to listen for the trap.
"
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repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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undoubtedly
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unreasonableness
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| 无理性； 横逆 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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urbane
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incensed
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glum
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conversing
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evaded
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semblance
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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simultaneously
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appalling
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odious
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rascal
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ass
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interfere
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wrecking
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shrugged
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pony
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faltered
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standing
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hush
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curtness
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bungalow
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soda
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annoyance
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resentment
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33
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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34
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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35
amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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36
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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37
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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38
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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39
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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42
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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43
exodus
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| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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44
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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46
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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47
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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48
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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49
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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50
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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51
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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52
dubbed
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| v.给…起绰号( dub的过去式和过去分词 )；把…称为；配音；复制 | |
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53
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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54
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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grudgingly
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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58
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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59
forgo
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| v.放弃，抛弃 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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inconveniently
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| ad.不方便地 | |
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62
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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billiards
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| n.台球 | |
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perjured
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| adj.伪证的，犯伪证罪的v.发假誓，作伪证( perjure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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wiles
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| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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frailties
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| n.脆弱( frailty的名词复数 )；虚弱；（性格或行为上的）弱点；缺点 | |
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flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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82
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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84
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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85
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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87
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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88
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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89
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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subconsciously
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| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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92
disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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93
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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94
deranged
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| adj.疯狂的 | |
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deterioration
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| n.退化；恶化；变坏 | |
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96
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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97
voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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98
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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99
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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101
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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102
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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103
squealing
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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104
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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105
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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106
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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107
wraiths
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| n.幽灵( wraith的名词复数 )；（传说中人在将死或死后不久的）显形阴魂 | |
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108
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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110
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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111
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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112
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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113
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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114
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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115
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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