There seemed no doubt that the final ball of the cold weather season was a triumphant7 success.
[pg 77]
The bachelor hosts had spared neither effort nor money to perfect every arrangement, from the par4 excellent supper upstairs to the most trifling8 detail below. The compound of the public building was illuminated9 with row upon row of little lights in coloured glass receptacles, verandas10 were enclosed and decorated, tents were added too, carpeted and furnished, for the benefit of sitters-out; plants were in profusion12, flowers, Chinese lanterns, casual buffets13 for promiscuous14 refreshment--nothing was forgotten.
Every girl had partners, the programmes of the more popular spinsters had been filled for days, and usually hopeless wallflowers were not allowed to sit neglected as long as a man who could dance was unwary enough to remain unattached in the ballroom. Even the most unattractive of the three Miss Planes ("Plain," "Plainer," "Plainest," as they were called by irreverent subalterns) had been dancing all night, and as a result of enjoyment15 looked almost attractive.
Among the non-dancing men was Captain Coventry; entertainments of this description bored him unutterably. Polo and sport were his recreations, and he could not and would not dance; it was a form of amusement he held in contempt. To-night he felt more disinclined than usual to make himself useful or pleasant. Sullen16 and
[pg 78]
solitary17, he leaned against the wall in gloomy contrast with the gay festoons of muslin, blue and white and yellow, draped behind him. He was a man not seen at his best in a ballroom, and just at that moment he appeared at his worst, for his wife had danced four times already with the man he most loathed18 in the station, and again she was dancing with him now. The pair swept by, Kennard tall and dark and serene19, Rafella radiant, flushed, abandoned to pleasure, both of them regardless of the sombre, jealous eyes that watched them from the wall.
Mrs. Greaves, having twisted her ankle romping20 through a set of lancers, had now taken refuge on the dais for a precautionary rest; and she also watched the fairy figure floating round the room. Her neighbour on the red velvet21 settee happened to be the consort22 of a high official, a wise and benevolent23 lady, whose long experience of Indian life had only increased her natural kindness of heart and broadened her tolerant views.
"You know the Coventrys rather well, don't you, Mrs. Greaves?" she asked, as she followed the direction of the other woman's eyes. The question was not prompted by trivial curiosity, nor by any desire for ungenerous gossip, and of this Mrs. Greaves was fully24 aware, knowing her companion's disposition25.
[pg 79]
"I thought I knew Mrs. Coventry well," she said doubtfully, "but lately I've not felt quite sure. Can you believe that when she came out she considered it wrong to dress becomingly, or to do anything that might improve her appearance? And she thought we were all so fast and frivolous26! She has altered so curiously27."
"I am sorry for her, poor, pretty little person." The elder woman's placid28 face grew sad. "She is a typical example of the kind of girl who deteriorates29 rapidly in India; and then people at home, who won't try to understand, think India is to blame. She would have been just the same in England, or anywhere else, if she had been pitchforked into a different kind of life. If she doesn't come to grief, as I fear seems likely, she will probably go home and talk about her servants and her carriage and her men friends, and help to spread the false impression that out here all English women live like princesses and are nothing but brainless butterflies. It is such a mistake! She means no harm, I am sure, which makes it all the more regrettable."
"I also think she is far more to be pitied than blamed," agreed Mrs. Greaves. "She led such a narrow little life at home in a country vicarage, as far as I can gather from what she has told me at different times; and somehow it does seem to
[pg 80]
have unbalanced her to have a lady's maid, as she would call her ayah at first, and a smart dog-cart and big rooms, and plenty of society, and to discover that she was pretty and attractive. The worst of it is Captain Coventry doesn't understand the situation in the least, and makes no allowance."
"He ought not to leave her so much to look after herself. He appears to be always out shooting, or playing cricket or racquets or polo, when he isn't on duty. I suppose he's the wrong kind of husband for an undeveloped creature like that. She ought to have married a curate at home, or a small country squire30; then she would probably have remained contented31 all her life, teaching in the Sunday school, and visiting the cottagers, and doing good according to her own ideas."
"You see," explained Mrs. Greaves, "at first Captain Coventry was only rather amused at the way many of her little scruples32 fizzled out, and treated her like a child--after all, in some ways she isn't much more--until she began to do things that most of us deprecate, though we know they are probably harmless enough. When she took up with this horrible man he got angry, and they had rows. You know, I dare say, how intolerant he is; he always thinks the worst of women. I have never really liked him, and I'm
[pg 81]
afraid, if it were not for Rafella's sake, I should feel rather pleased, in a way, that his selection had not turned out quite the paragon33 of propriety34 he expected."
"Can't you do anything? Can't you speak to her? I don't feel I know her sufficiently35 well to interfere36."
"I did try, but it was hopeless. She seemed to think she was the only person with any principles in the station. She said I had an evil mind, that we all had evil minds, and she stuck to it that she was doing nothing wrong; and, literally37 speaking, I am sure she isn't; she's only being foolish. She declared that as long as her conscience was clear she did not see why she should give up her friendship with Mr. Kennard."
"I cannot abide38 that man! What on earth do some women see in him--or some men either, for that matter? It makes me so angry to hear them alluding39 to 'dear old Kennard.' No doubt he is clever--all barristers are; but I consider that no woman can be seen about with him and keep her reputation. I don't wonder Captain Coventry looks like a bear with a sore head. I hope he will soon put his foot down and stop the flirtation40 altogether."
"Yes, if he only does it the right way," said Mrs. Greaves doubtfully; and as the music ceased
[pg 82]
she observed, with apprehension41, that Mr. Kennard and Mrs. Coventry were making for a screened-in, dimly lit veranda11, and that Captain Coventry was following the couple with slow, determined42 steps.
"Oh!" she exclaimed involuntarily, below her breath, "I hope there isn't going to be a row!"
"My dear," the Commissioner's wife assured her, "Mr. Kennard will take care there is no row--in public, at any rate. That would not suit him at all."
"But Rafella is so silly, and Captain Coventry is so hard and vindictive43. What will be the end of it?"
"If anyone goes to the wall, it will without question be the woman," said the other grimly; "that is what always happens in these deplorable cases."
Captain Coventry came upon his wife and her partner seated in an alcove44. The pink glow from a paper lantern fell on the woman's fair head and delicate neck. She looked the picture of purity and innocence45. The pair might have sat as models for Faust and Marguerite. Rafella glanced up quickly as her husband approached, walking slowly, evenly, along the veranda between the rows of sitting-out couples. She avoided his eyes as he
[pg 83]
came to a halt in front of her. Apparently46 Mr. Kennard did not see him.
"Are you ready to come home?" he asked in a cold, level voice.
Then she looked up in nervous appeal. "Oh, George, there are three more dances besides the extras on the programme!" She turned as though for sympathy and support to the man who sat silent at her side, toying with her fan. He only smiled inscrutably, and his eyes held the expression of one looking on at a comedy.
Captain Coventry stood rigid47; his hands were clenched48, his face hard and set.
"It is time for us to go home," he said, with a faint though unmistakable emphasis on the pronoun.
She moved a small, satin-shod foot impatiently. "Oh, do let us stay a little longer," she protested; "nobody is going yet."
"We are," said her husband.
"Why?" she demanded in desperate defiance49. Then she looked frightened, and rose with reluctance50 from her seat.
For a moment she glanced from one man to the other, disconcerted because Mr. Kennard had said nothing, had not asserted his claim to the dances that still were his on her programme. Suddenly she felt helpless, deserted51, indignant.
[pg 84]
Mr. Kennard must think she was not her own mistress, that she could not do as she chose, that she allowed herself to be treated like a child. It was insufferable! Why couldn't George trust her? He ought to be glad to see her receiving admiration52 and attention. It was odious53 of him to place her in such a false and unpleasant position. But while that hard, cruel look remained in his eyes she dared not defy him. She would have to obey like a slave at the moment, though she vowed54 to herself that she would demand an apology once they were alone.
She rose with an air of offended pride, and held out her hand for her fan. Kennard gave it to her with a bow, and a suppressed smile on his face that made Coventry long to knock him down. They bade each other formal good-nights, and Rafella stalked in the direction of the cloakroom, her head held high, her husband following her close.
On their way back to their bungalow55 there was silence between the Coventrys. They were driving in the cab of the country, a rough vehicle that resembled a palanquin on wheels, with venetian shutters56 instead of windows, and the noise it made would have rendered even the most amiable57 of conversations impossible. The air outside was warm and still, and the rattle58 of the wheels and the
[pg 85]
woodwork, and the clumsy harness, seemed intensified59 by the surrounding silence of the Indian night. The stuffy60 conveyance61 was filled with the scent62 of violets--lately Rafella had taken to scent, strong scent that clung and impregnated everything she wore. At her breast was a cluster of violets that had come from the pots in Mr. Kennard's veranda, and now, dying, the flowers gave out a stale fragrance63. To the angry man at her side the concentrated perfume was atrocious. It seemed to be connected in some subtle way with the alteration64 in his wife's behaviour--to breathe of all that was false and worthless in a woman's heart. Bitterly he blamed the follies65 and temptations of Indian life, and her failure to withstand them. It did not occur to him that, with her limited intelligence, her inexperience of life, and her undeveloped outlook, things would have been the same in any quarter of the earth, given the scope and opportunity. He was a man who could not make allowances, who could perceive no point of view except his own; yet withal he was a straight and honourable66 English soldier, with high standards of right and wrong, and a deep sense of the sanctity of marriage. Such people are often incapable67 of distinguishing between mere68 foolishness and sin; they will argue that there are no degrees of infidelity, and that a false step necessarily implies
[pg 86]
complete downfall. Coventry had no sympathy with sexual temptation; in his sight, if a married woman permitted a man who was not her husband to make love to her, she was guilty of more than indiscretion.
His anger kept him silent as they entered their bungalow. He was afraid to trust himself to speak.
It was his wife who precipitated70 the storm; she turned up the lamp that was burning low on a table in the drawing-room, and threw her cloak on to a chair with a petulant71 movement. The atmosphere of the room was oppressive, yet Coventry had re-bolted the long glass door by which they had entered. Mosquitoes, disturbed by the light, flew with thin screamings around their heads.
For a moment they looked at each other. The man's eyes were cold and contemptuous, and the woman's sense of injury and injustice72 increased till she felt wellnigh desperate. To think that she should have been dragged home like a naughty little girl from a party, who must be sent to bed as a punishment, while everyone else was still dancing and enjoying the ball!--and Mr. Kennard would have found another partner whose husband was not a monster of unreasonable73 jealousy74. Perhaps he would smile and shrug75 his shoulders, and cease now to send her violets every morning,
[pg 87]
and no longer single her out for special attention, or send her little notes asking what were her plans for the afternoon--or give her books with quotations76 inscribed77 by himself on the flyleaf: quotations conveying a harmless though flattering homage78. In short, all the little inarticulate attentions that to the initiated79 are but the preliminaries to a game that need be no more than an emotional pastime, but may be fraught80 with peril81 to the flattered novitiate.
Instinctively82 her hand rested on a small, beautifully bound volume that had come this morning with the violets she wore, whose perfume stirred her senses even at this moment as it floated out into the room. On the title page was traced in Kennard's peculiar83 writing:
"A book of verses underneath84 the bough85,
A jug86 of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou
Beside me, singing in the wilderness87--
Oh! wilderness were paradise enow."
"Aren't you going to explain?" she demanded in a stifled88 voice. "You have made me the laughing-stock of the station. You have spoilt my evening. Do you expect me to submit without a word? I am not a child, let me tell you; I am capable of taking care of myself."
"Apparently that is just what you are not
[pg 88]
capable of doing," said Coventry. "Unless you promise me to behave decently in future, and unless you do so, I shall send you home to your father until my time is up in India."
A sudden remembrance of the shabby vicarage assailed89 her, and the dull little village, and the routine of housework, and economy; Sunday school, choir90 practice, parish duties, old people, the long dark winters, and the cold, and the rain, and the solitude91. It chilled her spirit, and filled her with a sickening dread92. Yet how could she bring herself to promise "to behave with decency," when, in her own opinion, she had done nothing reprehensible93? Her "friendship" with Mr. Kennard was blameless on both sides. It might be true that he did not bear the best of characters; Mrs. Greaves had warned her, most officiously, of that, and had cited one or two so-called scandals in which he had been concerned, to all appearances, discreditably. But had he not told her himself, repeatedly, that it had all been the fault of the women, which she could quite believe, and that her influence on his life was the one good thing that had ever come his way? Had he not declared that for her sweet sake there should be no more "stories," that because of her he would be strong? Surely that was something to be proud of! Therefore, how could she turn and
[pg 89]
treat him as though he were a blackguard, and deny him the first incentive94 he had ever known to rectitude of life? Why, every Sunday lately he had gone to church at her behest, and he said he had given up gambling95 at the club, assured her that every night he read a chapter of the Bible she had lent him--a worn little volume that had been hers since childhood, with notes in the margins96, and flowers pressed between the pages to mark the anniversaries of her life's rare events--her mother's death, her confirmation97, her first communion, and her marriage.
"Well?" Her husband's voice cut sharply through her thoughts.
Now she gazed at him with large, distressed98 blue eyes.
"Oh, George, do try to understand! There is really nothing wrong. We are only friends, and he needs my friendship; it helps him, it does him good."
Rage and disgust almost choked him. "Bah!" he exclaimed furiously, "don't talk rot like that to me." He took a step forward, and seized her wrist. "Can you swear to me that the beast has never attempted to make love to you? Can you deny that he follows you about, and writes you notes, and gives you presents, and that you have never tried to stop him? The fellow is notorious,
[pg 90]
and only a man who was a fool or a blackguard would stand by and see his wife go to the devil with him or with anyone else."
She trembled, terrified, and her face became distorted with tears. "You are cruel and unjust," she sobbed99. "I will not bear it."
He dropped her arm, and paced backwards100 and forwards among the furniture. Then he stopped by the table and picked up a book--the daintily bound little volume that had come for Rafella this morning. He looked at it with contempt.
"This is the kind of unwholesome rot he tries to poison your mind with." He opened the cover, and read the verse on the fly-leaf; next moment he flung the book to the farther end of the room.
"That is enough," he said. "Listen to me! If you don't promise me this instant never to speak to the man again, I'll--I'll kill you."
Coventry was beside himself with passion, for it seemed to him that his honour, his home, his name was besmirched101. He felt humiliated102, wronged; and the primitive103 sense of outraged104 possession had him in its grip. Nothing could ever be the same again between his wife and himself. It was all he could do not to strike her as she stood there, white, and fair, and weak, at
[pg 91]
his mercy, yet still with a frightened defiance in her childish blue eyes.
There followed a tense pause, as with set teeth he strove to master his passion, holding his clenched hands down on the table before him.... And suddenly the silence outside was broken by the sound of wheels and the sharp trotting105 of a horse's hoofs106 that turned into the adjoining compound and ceased. Instinctively Rafella turned her head and listened. Mr. Kennard had come home from the ball. The knowledge that he was at hand gave her a feeling of partial security. That, together with indignation and resentment107, kept her firm in her resolve not to be browbeaten108 into a promise that could only be an admission of guilt69. She could not perceive that morally she had erred109, though actually she was innocent of wrongdoing. It was precisely110 what her husband could not perceive either; to him there was little difference.
"Are you going to promise?" he asked, with menace in his voice.
She put up her hands as though to shield herself from violence.
"Are you going to promise?" he said again, and moved a little nearer.
Then her courage failed her. She was afraid of George, afraid of the look on his face that reminded
[pg 92]
her of a savage111 animal--afraid of his threats, and his voice, and his presence. She turned and ran to the door that had been bolted by him as they entered. He followed her. She screamed, stretching her white arms up to the bolt, dragging it down.
Next moment she was outside, running in silent terror towards the house in the next compound. The lightly clad figure sped like a ghost through the dim light of the coming dawn, and stumbled through the gap in the low mud boundary, leaving George Coventry standing112 on the threshold of his house as though he had been turned to stone.
Motionless he stood; then he laughed like a drunken man, and reeled back into the room that smelt113 of matting and lamp-oil and--violets.
The disappearance114 of Mr. Kennard and Mrs. Coventry came as a veritable bombshell to the station. Nobody knew exactly what had happened; there were so many different stories. Hitherto people had noticed and talked, some with jealous interest, others more or less good-naturedly, a few with real regret, but none with any expectation of a serious scandal; for domestic disaster is rare in India, in spite of popular delusion115 to the contrary. And when it occurs, partly because of its rarity, partly because in any community so
[pg 93]
intimate as one class of the same nationality in exile, such an occurrence goes sharply home, and creates a sensation at once so painful and exciting that it is not quickly forgotten.
It was said that Mrs. Coventry had deliberately116 left her husband after a terrible scene; another version was that she had confessed on the night of the bachelors' ball to conduct such as had left Captain Coventry no alternative but to allow her to go; again that he had turned her out, and she had sought refuge in Mr. Kennard's bungalow. Someone had seen the runaway117 couple leaving next day by the mail train for Bombay. The more charitable maintained that the injured husband had been chiefly to blame; he had made a mountain out of a molehill, would listen to no explanation, nor give the benefit of any doubt, driving his wife to the ruinous step she had taken.
All that remained evident was that Mrs. Coventry and Mr. Kennard were no longer seen in the station, and that for a short space of time Captain Coventry continued to perform his regimental duties, to play polo and racquets and cricket, in taciturn silence. His bearing inhibited119 questions, or mention to him of what had occurred; no one dared to intrude120 on his secret, and his reticence121 was respected. A little later he took leave on urgent private affairs and went home; and in
[pg 94]
due time an undefended divorce case, with Mr. Kennard as co-respondent, was reported without detail in the papers.
Mr. Kennard was eventually heard of in another Province, where, from all accounts, he was as popular as ever with a certain section of society always to be found anywhere, people who are attracted by good dinners and a display of wealth and an apparently superior knowledge of the world, who are content to ask no questions--which they call minding their own business.
Gossip subsided122 with the fluctuation123 of the European population of a large Indian station, where the military portion come and go, and civil officials are constantly transferred. Captain Coventry did not come back; he exchanged into the home battalion124 of his regiment118. There came echoes and whispers that little Mrs. Coventry had returned to India after the decree had been made absolute, under the confiding125 impression that Mr. Kennard would make her his wife. But some declared that, of course, he was not such a fool; others that he had been blackguard enough to refuse to marry her; and what became of her nobody knew, and very few cared; for, after all, it was no one's immediate126 affair.
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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onlookers
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| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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illuminated
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verandas
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veranda
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profusion
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buffets
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| （火车站的）饮食柜台( buffet的名词复数 )； （火车的）餐车； 自助餐 | |
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promiscuous
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enjoyment
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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solitary
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loathed
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serene
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romping
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velvet
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consort
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benevolent
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fully
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disposition
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frivolous
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curiously
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placid
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deteriorates
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squire
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contented
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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paragon
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propriety
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sufficiently
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interfere
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literally
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abide
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alluding
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flirtation
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apprehension
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determined
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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alcove
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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46
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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47
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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48
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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50
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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51
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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52
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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53
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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54
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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55
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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56
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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57
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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58
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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59
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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61
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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62
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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63
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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64
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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65
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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66
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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67
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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68
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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71
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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72
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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73
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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74
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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75
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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77
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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78
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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79
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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80
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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82
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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83
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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84
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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85
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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86
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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87
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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88
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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89
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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90
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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91
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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92
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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93
reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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94
incentive
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| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
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95
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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96
margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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97
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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98
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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99
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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100
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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101
besmirched
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| v.弄脏( besmirch的过去式和过去分词 )；玷污；丑化；糟蹋（名誉等） | |
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102
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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103
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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104
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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105
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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106
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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107
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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108
browbeaten
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| v.（以言辞或表情）威逼，恫吓( browbeat的过去分词 ) | |
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109
erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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111
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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112
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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113
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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114
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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115
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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116
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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117
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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118
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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119
inhibited
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| a.拘谨的，拘束的 | |
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120
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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121
reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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122
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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123
fluctuation
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| n.(物价的)波动，涨落；周期性变动；脉动 | |
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124
battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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125
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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126
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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