They were standing1 beside the coat-rack. Miss Fitzhugh was doing up her gloves with little jerky movements of a hairpin2, talking all the while breathlessly. From the parlor3 at the end of the narrow green-papered hall came a whiff of tea and the sound of cups clinked against saucers.
"What he said was.... You won't mind if I tell you all, will you dear...? Anyway, I've always admired your way of playing Chabrier. He said your technique was rotten, but that you had a soul. And he turned down Mrs. Glendinning to come here this afternoon, honest he did. Will you turn on the light a sec, my hat's crooked4 ... There! ..."
Miss Fitzhugh put back the hairpin and made a few jabs at the hair under her hat.
"If you want my plain opinion ... O, I do look a sight ... I think you've made a conquest, Nancibel. O, you are a lucky girl! And that Wendell boy's dreadfully good looking. ... Well, I must go." Miss Fitzhugh drew the taller girl down on her firm plump bosom5 and kissed her moistly—"Just think of being loved by Salinski!" She kissed Nancibel on the mouth again and fled with a little giggle6 out the door.
"Poor fool!" muttered Nancibel. With her lips tightly compressed she walked back towards her guests. While still in the dark of the hall she closed her eyes for a second—O, I hope they go soon. Then with a smile she went back to her place by the teathings.
"Was Fitzie telling you all the Boston Theatre gossip?" asked a little girl with light fuzzy hair and a green dress.
"No, it was only about Mr. Salinski."
"She's jealous because he played here, I bet you."
"She doesn't want him to play with that dreadful ladies' orchestra, does she?" put in a tall girl with large teeth and a picture hat.
"You shouldn't laugh at people's misfortunes, Susan," said the fuzzy-haired girl with a shrill7 little titter.
"What are Miss Fitzhugh's misfortunes?" asked Fanshaw, who stood tall and blonde in a light grey suit, with his back to the fireplace.
"She's celloist on the famous ladies' orchestra."
"How delicious. The Fadettes!"
"Fitzie's an awful fool, but I like her," said Nancibel gruffly.
"Susan, we must go," said the fuzzy-haired girl.
"Must you, dear?" said Nancibel automatically.
Their dresses swished and kisses were exchanged in the hall beside the coatrack. When the door had closed behind the two women, Nancibel hurried back to the parlor.
"O, what a relief!" she cried, "I was so afraid there would be somebody left I'd overlooked."
"I'm about dead," said Wendell. "Nan, you ought to warn people when you have tea fights and celebrities8. I tried to escape once I'd got in, but Fanshaw held on to my coat." He got up from where he had sat crouched9 in the corner by the window and walked over to the teatable. "Any food left?"
"Here, you poor child," said Nancibel, bouncing a section of sticky chocolate cake on to a plate. "I'll make some fresh tea in a minute. Do you realize that this afternoon is the first triumph in a career of fashionable music? O, it's too silly ..." She burst out laughing, letting herself drop limply into a chair.
"I thought it was going a little far when the stout10, red-haired lady sailed in with those two poor little men like a liner being tugged11 up to the wharf," said Fanshaw, who still stood with his back to the unlit gaslogs.
"That's the famous Mrs. Hammond Tweed, who writes animal stories," burst out Nancibel, carried off on a fresh gust12 of hysterical13 laughter. "The way she said Ah when Salinski wriggled14 out of a cadenza, like people watching sky-rockets."
Nancibel rolled about on her chair. What fun it was to be giggling15 like this with Wenny and Fanshaw, like children who've done something naughty. Through the tears in her eyes she could see, beyond the big brass16-topped teatable stacked with used teacups and crumb-covered plates where here and there a cigarette but blackened with its ash a few drops of tea left in a spoon, Wenny's brown face convulsed with laughter and greediness as he stuffed hunks of chocolate cake into his mouth. And Fitzie thinks I'm angling after old Salinski. The thought came to make her laugh the harder. Her foot knocked against the leg of the teatable and all the cups rattled17.
"Look out, Nan, you'll have it over," said Fanshaw.
"Wouldn't care if I did. I'd like to smash something."
"You shan't smash Confucius there, young lady. I'll not let you." Fanshaw put the big blue Chinese teapot in a place of safety on the mantelpiece.
Nan got to her feet and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
"O, dear! ... But I must give you children some fresh tea to make up for all you've suffered."
She ran out to the kitchenette to put fresh tea in the pot. From there she called: "Wenny, bring the debris19, I'll leave it for the maid to clean up." The glasses in a row along a shelf whined20 with the vibration22 of her voice. She felt all at once curiously23 constrained24. Absurd. She'd known Wenny when he was in knickerbockers. Why should it embarrass her to be alone with him in the kitchenette? The tea sizzled faintly, and the steam came up scalding in her face as she poured the boiling water into the pot. She did not turn around she was flushing so, when he heard Wenny's step and the rattle18 of china behind her.
"After the battle mother," sang Wenny as he put the tea things down beside the sink.
"Here, you cut this lemon and bring it in, Wenny, if you don't mind," she said and fled with the pot and a couple of clean cups into the other room. Fanshaw's voice was always so soothing25 when one was excited.
"There's still a bit of the afterglow," said Fanshaw from near the window. "It's wonderful how long it lingers these fall evenings."
Wenny had come back with the lemon and dropped a piece into each of the three cups. Then he sniffed26 at his hands.
"That's a splendid lemon. It's wonderful how good it makes your fingers smell."
She watched his lips form the words. Semetic lips, like in the Assyrians in the museum, she thought.
"Gertrude said"; Fanshaw was taking little sips27 of tea as he spoke28, "You'ld be taken up with the spirits."
"Not gin I hope." She tossed her head up suddenly, lips pressed together. Fine gesture that, whispered some mocking demon29 in her.
Fanshaw smiled indulgently with thin lips.
"No, I mean spooks," he said. "Gertrude said you did extraordinary things with a ouija board. She's very silly, you know."
"Made me out a regular witch of Endor, did she?" Her voice was tense in spite of herself.
"O, I hate the longfaced way people talk about that guff ... as if people dead could be more important than people alive," Wenny blurted31 out angrily.
Nan found herself looking in his eyes; the black pupils widened as she looked in them. There was a warmth about her body as if his vehemence32 had communicated itself to her. Then the eyes flashed away.
"What nonsense, Wendell," she said. "Don't be so silly. I just played with a ouija board to see what people would say. We talked to Robinson Crusoe."
Fanshaw waved a long thin hand in the air.
"For Heaven's sake, don't squabble. After all those young women, I feel weak. There must have been a thousand of them ... I say, Nan, did you invite the whole conservatory33?"
"No, but as they were all dying to say they'd been in the same room with Salinski, I went the limit."
"You certainly did."
"Gosh! The size of that star," came Wenny's voice from the window. In his black silhouette34 Nan was imagining the moulding of the muscles of the arms, the hollow between the shoulders, the hard bulge35 of calves36. She got to her feet. The grey jade37 beads38 hung down from her neck as she lifted the teatable out of the way. The little demon in her head was hissing39 Careful Nancibel, careful Nancibel as she walked over to the window. Her arm hanging limply at her side touched his arm; writhing40 hump-backed flares41 danced an insane ballet through her body. Down the street a grindorgan was playing The Wearing of the Green. What wonderful lashes43 he has, she caught herself thinking, so much nicer than mine. Warm shudders45 came from his cheek to her cheek, from his moving lips.
"It looks as big as a chrysanthemum46," he was saying. She had forgotten the star. She saw it then bristling47 with green horns of light.
Wenny wore a woolly suit that had been wet, as it had been raining; the smell of it mixed with a tang of tobacco filled her nostrils48. She was looking at the star that seemed to palpitate with slow sucking rhythm, afloat in the evening v like a jellyfish in shallow bay water. For an instant all her life palpitated hideously50 with the star. She turned. Her lips almost brushed Wenny's cheek.
"L'étoile du berger," said Fanshaw. His voice rasped through Nan's head.
Her hands were icecold. The little demon in her head with a voice like Aunt M's was whispering: You must meet my niece Nancibel Taylor, she's such a clever violinist. She pulled the shade down sharply in Wenny's face.
"You'ld be there all night mooning at that star," she said and tried to laugh.
They sat down in their chairs again.
"Well, Wenny, how have you been wasting your time?" Her voice rang false in her ears.
Wenny's brown eyes looked at her timidly for a moment. He spread his square hands on his knees and glanced down at their large knuckles51. In Nan a cold voice exulted52: he has the hands of a ditchdigger.
"I wish I knew," he said.
She looked at Fanshaw. His bluish green crepe necktie was the color his eyes were behind the round tortoiseshell spectacles. His arched nose and high forehead were what had made one of the girls say: There's a clever looking man. She was glad he was here. She always felt sane42 where Fanshaw was.
"Wenny," Fanshaw was saying as he got to to his feet.
"What's the matter?"
"Don't go," said Nan in a sudden panic at the idea of being left alone.
"But, Nan, I promised the Perkinses I'd bring Wenny to dinner and we are late already."
"O hell," muttered Wenny.
"I promised you'ld come, and I'm going to drag you along even if your shirt is dirty."
"It looked clean this morning," said Wenny flushing.
"Well, it's filthy53 now."
"That seems to me a dam good reason for not going."
The jade beads clinked as she followed them down the hall towards the door. For some reason she held out her hand to them formally. After the limpness of Fanshaw's hand, Wenny's seemed hard and hot. Again the phrase came to her mind: ditchdigger's hands.
"I don't want to go a bit, Nan...."
"Well, good evening," interrupted Fanshaw pushing Wenny towards the door with a gesture of proprietorship54. As they turned towards the elevator, her eyes followed the fuzziness of Wenny's hair down the nape of his neck under the soft collar. The collar had a line of grime round it. Dirty little animal, said the voice in her. She closed the door, her nostrils full of the greasy55 smell of the elevator. The smile went out of her face.
The beads clinked as she walked back to the parlor. What was the matter with her today anyhow?—An old maid that's what you are like Aunt M. Nonsense, I'm too alive for all that rubbish. She stood with compressed lips looking about the room. How beastly small it was. There was a design in reddish orange on the bright blue curtains, that was echoed by the orange shade on the tall lamp that stood on the floor beside the piano. She'd thought herself clever to think up the colorscheme, with the warm buff walls as a background. It seemed hideous49 to her at that moment, like the decoration of a room in the window of a department store. There were still soiled teacups on the tables and along the mantel, and little plates with bits of sandwich and cake on them. She picked up the fat blue teapot Fanshaw had named Confucius. The smooth bulge of it in her hands was reassuring56 for a moment. Then solitude57 poured in upon her again. The Jacobean table with knobby legs opposite the fireplace and the books crammed58 into the bookcase and the battered59 Buhl cabinet in the corner all seemed squared and tiptoe with hostility60. There was a faint bitter smell of tealeaves and burnt out cigarettebutts about everything.
She put down the teapot and flung herself on the pianostool. She would play madly. She would compose. A momentary61 thrill of huge chords, rising cadences62 to carry her with immense wingbeats out of the pit of sick yearning63. She struck the keys with all ten fingers. The sound jangled loud through the room. She winced64. Idiot, she said aloud, and went to the window. She raised the shade part way and let it fall behind her. The green star trembled in the west just above the dark mass of a building the other side of the Fenway. She watched it breathless while it sank out of sight.
* * * *
Nan climbed painfully out of slumber66 as one climbs a ladder. Sparrows were twittering outside. Her white bedroom was full of sunlight that poured through the wide window opposite her bed, smouldered hotly on the red and blue of the carpet, glinted on the tall mahogany bedpost and finally struck a warm tingling67 coverlet over her feet and legs. She snuggled into the bedclothes and lay staring at the ceiling wrapped in a delicious blank haze68 of sleepiness. A motortruck rasping by outside grated on her drowsy69 quiet and then rattled off into silence. Through the window she could see a lacework of treetops and the expressionless cubes of the further apartment houses and, beyond, a blue vaguely70 clouded sky. Two little sparrows, fat, fuzzy, with bright eyes, fluttered down past the window. She closed her eyes. In her ears something formed the words: So wonderfully secure.
She woke with a start from her doze71. What was she trying to remember? She was suddenly wide awake, her heart pounding. The warm bulge of his arm against her arm, hard, male, and the bright jelly of his eyes between black lashes, last evening looking at the star. She tried to brush the memory off; it clung about her the way the sticky spiderwebs used to cling to her face and hair walking through the woods last summer. She didn't want to think of Wenny that way, she told herself. It would spoil everything, she must have more self-control. No, no, she said aloud as she put her toes into her slippers72. Then she went about her dressing73 with compressed lips.
She threw herself into a flurry of things to be done. Sunday and late and the maid not coming. There was the percolator to put on, the water to run for her bath, the milk to take in, and the paper, and the caps to take off the milk bottle and the creambottle, and the flame under the percolator mustn't be too high and the bath mustn't be too hot. The familiar morning smells, gasflame, soap, bathwater, coffee-steam, were vaguely distasteful to her this morning, gave her a feeling of days succeeding days and years years, as alike and meaningless as milkbottles. As she was cleaning her teeth she stopped with her mouth full of lather74 and the tooth brush in her hand. It was two years and eight months she'd been living in this apartment. O something must happen soon. When she had rinsed75 her mouth she looked at herself a long while in the tilted76 mirror over the washbasin. On one side the nickel fixture77 of the shower over the bathtub, on the other a glimpse through the open door into the hall and a patch of blue and green curtain; in the middle her face, chestnut78 hair caught loosely away from the narrow forehead, straight eyebrows79 darker than her hair, fine lashes. She stared for a moment intensely in her own grey eyes, then closed them with a shudder44. I have the thin New England lips, she said to herself. She pulled the nightgown off impatiently and stood with her hands on her scarcely formed breasts looking down into the pale green of the bathtub. Somewhere at the end of a long corridor of her mind she ran through the dappled shadow of woods, naked, swift, chased by someone brown, flushed, goatfooted. She could feel in her nostrils the roughness of the smell of Wenny's damp homespun suit. Après midi d'un Faune, the words formed in her mind, Music by Claude Debussy, Choreography by M. Nijinski; the big program in her hands with its smell of glazed80 printer's ink and the rustling81 of dresses about her at the Opera. What are you dawdling82 about? she muttered, and stepped into the water and began briskly soaping the facecloth.
Half an hour later Nancibel Taylor sat at the table beside the window in the livingroom sipping83 coffee and putting dabs84 of butter on the broken pieces of a sugared bun left over from tea. The sky had clouded over. Through the black tangle86 of twigs87 of the low trees in the Fenway here and there a slaty88 gleam of water flashed out. From a long way off came the unresonant tolling89 of a churchbell broken into occasionally by the shrill grind of a street car round a corner. Still chewing the last mouthful Nan picked up the cup and plate, absentmindedly brushing a few crumbs90 off the blue tablecover with one hand, and carried them into the kitchenette. Putting them in the sink she let the hot water run on them, and with her hand still on the tap, paused to think what she must do next. O, the garbage. She picked up the zinc91 pail a little gingerly, holding her face away from it, and put it on the dumbwaiter, then pulled on the grimy cord that made the dumbwaiter descend92, past the kitchenettes of the apartments below into the lowest region of all where the janitor93 was and a smell of coalgas from the furnace. After that with a feeling of relief Nan washed her hands and put her hat on in front of the pierglass in her bedroom, a hat of fine black straw without trimming that seemed to her to go very well with her light grey tailored suit. Pulling on her gloves, with a faint glow in her of anticipation94 of streets and movement and faces, she walked down the stairs.
Outside the air was raw with a faint underlying95 rottenness of autumn. Nan walked briskly, rejoicing in the tap of her little heels on the even pavement, down a long street of brick apartments that merged96 into older brownstone houses with dusty steps and several bells beside the front door. The pianos were quieter than usual because it was Sunday, but occasionally the high voice of a girl doing her scales jerked out through a pair of muslin windowcurtains or there came the shriek97 of a violin being tuned98. Down Commonwealth99 Avenue the elms were losing their leaves. In the windows bloated chrysanthemum flowers stood up stiffly out of jardinieres. In the Public Garden, where there was still a bit of flame in the leaves of the trees, in front of an asthmatic old man sitting on a bench with his chin on a silverhandled cane100 beside a little old grey woman in a porkpie hat, Nan found herself all of a sudden looking into the eager black eyes of Miss Fitzhugh.
"O, Nan, I'm so glad to see you."
Nan felt her neatly101 gloved fingers squeezed with sudden violence.
"Why, what's wrong?"
"Just let me tell you.... O, I'm so upset. I haven't been able to practice a minute all day. I haven't been so upset since I broke off my engagement and sent Billy back his ring.... It's about Mabel Worthington."
"But Fitzie, who's Mabel Worthington?"
"I must have told you about her. She was such a lovely girl, one of our second violins.... Nancibel, you never pay any attention when I tell you things; I think it's mean of you.... O, it's too dreadful and I'm just miserable102 about it.... Look, dear, won't you walk a little up Huntington Avenue? I was just going to get a soda103 ... so soothing, you know, dear, and I know the nicest candy store just a block up."
As they followed the path towards the Unitarian Church between grass patches dappled with russet of leaves, Nan could feel the eyes of the men on the benches, eyes indolent after a bloating Sunday breakfast, dazzled by following the smudgy sharpscented columns of Sunday newspapers, eyes blurred104 by Saturday night parties; their glances seemed to weave a warm shameful105 net to catch her wellpoised ankles and the erect106 slenderness of her figure in its closely tailored tweed. Fitzie was still talking.
"But, you must have seen her, dear, the last time you went to hear us play.... You did go, didn't you, that time I sent you the ticket? You said you'd been.... She was to the left beside the stage, just beside the first violin, a lovely girl with black curly hair."
At the corner they threaded their way among groups of heavyjowled people coming out of the church, men bristling with decorous stiffness, white points of starched108 collars, prickly scarfpins in satin of neckties, black curves of hats and gleaming shoetips, women fuzzy with boas and bits of fur and spotted109 veils.
"I had always thought," went on Fitzie's voice in a whine21 of dismay, "that she had a great future, and she seemed so much the best educated and ... you know ... most refined person there."
"But, what's happened to her?"
"I must begin at the beginning.... You see, dear, it was this way.... O, this is it. What will you have, dear?"
A smell of sodawater and chocolate and polished nickel encompassed110 them about. They sat at a little white table on which was a lace doily covered by a round piece of plate glass.
A waitress in black with tight starched bands at the wrists and waist hung over them.
"What are you having, dear?" said Fitzie again. "I'm goin' to have a banana split. I just love banana splits. Isn't it greedy of me? And before lunch, too."
"D'you know if you don't mind, Fitzie, I won't take anything. I'm going to dine with Aunt M. and she always feeds one a dreadful lot of stuffing on Sundays. She has such old-fashioned ideas about food."
"Well, as I was telling you, Nancibel, the first time I guessed anything was wrong was about a month ago, when I noticed a young Italian waiting outside the stage door. I was in a hurry and didn't notice him until I'd brushed against him. He was very poorly dressed and smelt111 dreadfully of garlic but I had to admit to myself that he was goodlooking, like a young Greek god!"
"Young Greek gods probably smelt of garlic too," said Nan laughing.
The banana split had arrived in a boatshaped plate. Miss Fitzhugh took up a dab85 of whipped cream on her spoon.
"Won't you have just a taste, Nancibel? ... No? O, you are a Puritan, dear.... Well, to make a long story short, one day last week I met them on Washington Street, Mabel Worthington and that dreadful Italian. I was brushing by pretending not to see them.... I thought it would be less embarrassing for them, you understand, dear.... But not a bit of it, she stopped me and chatted for a minute, calm as a cucumber, and then she introduced me to him.... This is Giovanni, she said, and that's all she said, though they both flushed crimson112. He bobbed his head awkwardly at me and smiled showing the most beautiful teeth. And that was all."
Fitzie was quiet for a minute and took three or four spoonfulls of yellow icecream in succession. She was talking in a rapid whisper, leaning far over the table towards Nan's unsmiling face.
"And yesterday morning she didn't turn up at rehearsal113. And now it appears that she has gone off with him. Isn't it frightful114. Because she was a lovely girl, really, a lovely girl. She reminded me of you."
"Well," said Nan, "she was probably in love with him."
"But I'm coming to the most dreadful part. ... The wretched man had a wife and two squalling filthy little babies. They came round to the theatre and made a dreadful scene, a horrid115 coarse woman just like an immigrant. ... And he is nothing but a common laborer116, just think of it. O, how can people do such things? It just makes me sick to think of that lovely girl in the power of that horrible garlic-smelling ruffian.... It just makes me sick to think of it."
Miss Fitzhugh caught up the last yellow liquid on her plate with several swift scraping little strokes of her spoon. She started delving117 with two fingers in the back compartment118 of her alligatorskin purse.
"Just think of it, Nancibel, a common laborer. If he'd been a musician or a composer or something it would have been different even if he was an Italian, but ... O, Nancibel, won't you please let me have your hanky a sec I declare I've lost mine."
Nan handed over her handkerchief.
"I suppose she's in love with him," she said. "It's a good thing she makes her own living."
"But, don't you think it's dreadful?"
"How can we tell? But, anyway, I must run along. Aunt M. always expects me at twelve every Sunday and she thinks I have come to some dreadful end if I don't get there on the dot."
Nan was out in the street again. A dusty wind had come up and was making dead leaves and scraps119 of newspapers dance in the gutters121, and tearing ragged122 holes in the clouds. O how poor Fitzie gets on my nerves, Nan was saying to herself, and a picture flashed through her mind of Fitzie opening her eyes wide, rapt, and saying, pausing with her mouth open a little between the words—Like a young Greek god.
She walked over to Beacon123 Street and down the row of houses that faces the Public Garden, looking now and then into front windows massed with ferns and autumn flowers. On small wellcleaned windowpanes a reflection of sky and clouds, shadows of sombredressed people passing, fleeting124 glint of limousines125, then, beside a bunch of yellow curlypetalled chrysanthemums126 the face of Aunt M. Nan thought how ashy and wrinkled it looked beside the yellow flowers. The face smiled and bobbed showing a straight part and hair steelgrey slicked against the head on either side. Nan pulled at the shining brass knob of the bell. Immediately the door opened.
"Yer late, Miss Nancibel; the missus was agettin' anxious an' alookin' outa the winder," said the old woman in flounced cap and apron127 metallic128 with starch107 who let her in.
"I'm not so awfully129 late, am I, Mary Ann?"
Pulling off her gloves, Nan brushed through portieres of salmoncolored brocade into the parlor.
"O, my dear Nancibel, how glad I am to see you," said Aunt M. throwing stubby arms round her niece's neck. Nan's lips touched the wrinkled lifeless skin.
"I'm sorry to be late, Auntie."
"Well, one can't expect a budding virtuoso130. ... I suppose one should say virtuosa ... to be very punctual. And punctuality is fallen into disrepute among young people nowadays. ... Now run up and take your things off like a good girl and come back quickly and talk to me so that we can have a good chat before the Turnstables come."
"Are they coming Auntie?"
"Yes, Cousin Jane Turnstable and her boy and girl are coming to dinner at half after one. It's quite thrilling to have so many young people in the house."
Running up the thickcarpeted stairs, Nan caught herself remembering running up those same stairs when she was still in short skirts, a Scotch131 plaid it was, accordionpleated, that day, and Mary Ann was polishing the brass rails that kept the carpet down, and her Aunt M., a tall omnipotent132 person then, had told her not to sing, O my darling Clementine, because it was a low vulgar song and somehow she hadn't been able to keep it in and had shouted out without meaning to:
Herring boxes without topses,
Sandals were for Clementine.
And Aunt M. had come out on the landing suddenly very cold and sharptoned and had made her stay in her room all afternoon and learn The Slave's Dream. As Nan went into the little room with Dutch blue wallpaper, which Aunt M. always called Nancibel's room, to throw her hat on the bed and give a hasty pat to her hair in front of the mirror,
Beside the ungathered rice he lay
His sickle133 in his hand,
bubbled up from somewhere deep in her mind. She smiled thinking how as the years had passed her relation to Aunt M. had changed, until now it was she who seemed the tall omnipotent person, skilled in all the world outside the house, and her aunt the timid one the housewalls protected from the shaggy world.
"Well, dear, what have you been up to all the week?" said Aunt M. when Nan had run down the stairs and back into the parlor. "I hope you haven't been gadding134 about a lot, like last week."
"Not a gad," said Nan laughing. They sat side by side on the curvebacked sofa in front of the window. Nan was looking down at Aunt M.'s old hands swollen135 at the knuckles that lay halfclenched on the full mauve satin of her dress. In her nostrils was a tang from the chrysanthemums.
"And how's your practicing?"
"Pretty good this week."
"You know how I feel about your music, Nancibel." There was a flame of blue in Aunt M.'s hazel eyes.
"You mustn't put too much faith in it," said Nan roughly. She went on hastily in a high nervous voice like her voice when she had people to tea: "Practiced every day but Thursday. Worked to a frazzle, really. How the neighbors must hate me. And there's somebody two floors down who plays the cornet all the morning, so we do a sort of distant duet with the effect quite ... modern."
"Why didn't you practice Thursday deary?"
"I went out to Nahant with Fanshaw and Wendell to see the surf. There was a wonderful noreaster blowing."
"You see a lot of those two young men."
"Of course I do.... But, Auntie, what have you been doing? When did you get the chrysanthemums? they're lovely."
"You can't get me off the track that way," said Aunt M. with a sly smile. "Which of them is it, Nancibel?"
"No, it's different from that.... O, I can't explain it." Nan saw herself and Wenny and Fanshaw running arm in arm on the turf at the cliffedge, leaning against the wind, the taste of spray on their lips. "It's so difficult to classify feelings. That's what Wenny says.... O, you wouldn't understand Auntie."
Nan felt the old woman beside her wince65.
"O, I didn't mean that, Aunt M. Why am I so dreadfully inconsiderate?"
"I wonder why Cousin Jane Turnstable doesn't come. I hope they won't be late. It upsets poor Judkins so to have to keep dinner hot."
They were silent. O, I must think of something to talk about, Nan was saying over and over again in her mind. She was staring at the little Corot that hung beside the mantel. A poplar overhanging water greywhite like milkweed silk.
"Do you remember Auntie when I was a little girl what ecstasies136 I used to go into over that little picture? When you used to tell me about abroad I used to think of everything as pale green and silver grey, like that picture."
"A funny impatient little girl you were," said Aunt M. softly. "Poor Elizabeth used to worry so about your tantrums, but I used to reassure137 her by saying it was merely temperament138 and that you'd be a great artist some day.... If she had only been spared to us to hear you play...."
The door bell rang.
"There they are," said Nan with relief.
"And they are not late after all. Punctual to the minute.... O, my dear Cousin Jane, how glad I am to see you. And James you've grown I declare.... Helen, you'll kiss your old cousin, won't you, dear?"
Cousin Jane Turnstable was a tall woman with silvery hair caught up smoothly139 under a broad hat. Her eyebrows were black and her face had all over the same unwrinkled milky140 texture141 as her cheeks. The boy and girl were both blonde and very thin. They all stood in a group in the center of the buff and blue carpet of the parlor, and the voices of the Turnstables chimed softly together like well attuned142 bells against Nan's deep voice and the quavering voice of her aunt.
"Nancibel, you won't mind showing Cousin Jane and Cousin Helen where they can take their things off, will you dear?" said Aunt M. At the same moment Mary Ann came through the sliding doors that led to the dining room and announced solemnly: "Dinner's on the table, mum."
"This is nice," said Aunt M. when they were all seated round the table where amid a glitter of silverware the creases143 stood up stiffly in the heavily starched linen144 cloth: "Quite like old times." And as Nan let the brown croutons slide off the spoon into the tomato bisque a heartbreaking lassitude came over her—I'm twentyeight and every seventh day of my life I must have done this. Twentyeight by fifty-two, what does that make? But some one was speaking to her. "And how did you enjoy September at Squirrel Island?" Cousin Jane Turnstable was asking in her musical voice.
After dinner with the thickness of overrich icecream still in their mouths they went into the parlor for coffee.
"I suppose I shall never go abroad again," Aunt M. was saying. "My travelling days are over. But if I did it would be to take for one last time that drive from Sorrento to Amalfi when the lemontrees are in bloom.... I'm afraid it is a little blasphemous145 to say it, but I can't imagine Heaven more beautiful. You surely have taken that drive, Nancibel."
"I've never been south of Florence, Auntie." With bitter poignance146 she sat remembering the smell of lemontrees. She was moving the spoon round her small cup of coffee with a slow movement of long fingers. She thought of Fitzie eating banana split and telling about the girl who'd run off with an Italian smelling of garlic like a young Greek god. Poor Fitzie who had none of that in her life, always making up romances for other people.
"I seem to remember," Aunt M. went on, "having heard Philips Brooks147 say that no one could really feel the beauty of such sights and remain an unbeliever."
"Ah, yes, so true," said Cousin Jane Turnstable.
"O dear," said James, his voice breaking.
Nan looked up at him suddenly. His face was crimson. He had spilt half a cup of coffee over his neatlypressed grey trousers. Nan took the cup out of his hand and set it on the mantel while he sheepishly fumbled148 for the spoon on the floor.
"No harm done," she said. "Come upstairs; it'll wash right out. I'll give you a cloth to rub it with."
"I'm afraid you think I'm dreadfully dumb, Cousin Nancibel. That was the dumbest thing to do," he said in tearful voice going up the stairs.
"Nonsense. I might have done it myself," she answered laughing. "Anything to break up the monotony of Sunday afternoon! ... Right in here, James. You sit on the bathtub and hold it tight. I'll rub it with a little soap, Here's a cloth."
The boy did as he was told.
"Why, that'll come right out. You'll never notice it," said Nan briskly rubbing the cloth held against his thin thigh149.
"You don't like Sunday either." His eyes looked up into hers with a sudden flash.
She wrinkled up her nose and he laughed.
From the wet woolly cloth came up a rough little smell like from Wenny's homespun. She felt herself flushing hotly. The boy looked up at her fixedly150 for a second and then the flush suffused151 his fair skin until it reddened his ears and the roots of his flaxen hair.
"That'll do," said Nan gruffly. "No one will notice it now." She walked hurriedly to the stairs and down.
"You'll play for us a bit, won't you, Nancibel?" said her Aunt when she was back in the parlor.
"All right. You'll accompany won't you?"
She brushed past James without looking at him as she went into the hall to fetch her violin. She was furious at herself for having blushed. As she leaned over to unstrap the violin case, the blood pounded in her temples and filled her eyes so that she could scarcely see. The blood in her ears was the sound of the grindorgan playing The Wearing of the Green after tea yesterday, when Wenny's cheek had been beside her cheek and they had looked at the throbbing152 star in the west. She tossed her head back and stood for a moment, her teeth firm together, the violin in one hand and bow in the other. And the girl who played the violin in the Fadettes had run off with an Italian who smelt of garlic like a young Greek god. O Fitzie's a romantic fool.
"How well you are looking today," said Aunt M. from the pianostool. "Shall it be Bach, Nancibel?"
* * * *
A yellow mist had come in off the harbor during the evening so that walking home after the concert the streets were dim and unfamiliar153 and each arclight had a ruddy halo. Nan walked beside Fanshaw whose greenish raincoat made him look taller and thinner even than usual. Ahead of them they could hear Wenny and Betty Thomas laughing together.
"What do you think of Betty?" Nan was saying in a low voice.
"She's your latest discovery isn't she? ... A trifle ... er ... unconscious I should say. No harm in her.... I wish she hadn't such a burr in her voice."
"O you are chilly154."
"I didn't mean to be so pompous155. She seems to like music. So rare in a musician."
Nan laughed.
"You seem to be feeling very superior this evening, Fanshaw. What have you done to be so cocky?"
"Little enough, God knows.... Nan, I wish we could get Wenny settled somehow. I'm worried about him. He ought to get to work at something definite."
"But he's so enormously alive, Fanshaw. How can one worry about him. O, if I had half his vitality156, sensitiveness...."
"So much of that is sheer nerves ... in a man. In you it's different. There's something rock bottom about women that men haven't at all. We are lichen157. If we are too alive we burn up and shrivel.... I wonder if he isn't a little too alive."
"Nonsense."
"Do you know you do us a lot of good, Nan?"
"If you think, young man, that I'm going to be anybody's rock of ages, you are mistaken, I can tell you that."
The others were waiting for them at a corner where a drugstore sent planes of white and greenish light slanting158 to the gleaming mud-filmed pavement.
"This is my street, people," said Betty Thomas.
"But we'll take you to your door. Remember the holdups," said Wenny.
"It'ld be so dreadfully exciting to be held up."
"It's on my way home anyway, Betty." Nan took the girl's arm and pulled her with her across the street.
The two men followed them up a street of apartment houses where patches of lighted windows made a yellow blur30 in the fog above their heads. Before the word Swarthcote on a glass door they stopped.
"Good night all," said Betty Thomas. "Thank you, deary, for the lovely supper and everything."
The door closed behind her. With Nan in the middle the three of them walked on.
"How cosy159 it is this way in the fog?" she said.
"It makes me feel wonderfully sentimental160," Wenny said slowly. "Wagner makes me feel sentimental anyway, but Wagner plus fog ... like sitting on the curbstone and letting great warm tears flow down my cheeks till the gutter120 simply gurgled with them."
"I say," said Fanshaw.
"Not a bit of it," broke in Nan. "I feel jolly, like roasting apples in front of an open fire. We're so secure all three of us together this way and the world drifting by, dinner at Aunt M.'s and tomato bisque and croutons and love and hate and all that outside drifting by like fog."
"Harmless you mean, Nan. I shouldn't say so.... Do you think its harmless, Wenny?"
"May be for some people, Fanshaw."
"No, I don't mean that. O, you are so lackadaisical161, Fanshaw," Nan said bitterly. "I mean something more active.... The three of us conquering, shutting the fog and the misery162 out, all that helpless against us. But I'm talking like a book."
"You are a little, Nan," said Wenny laughing.
Nan felt what she wanted to say slipping out of her mind, ungraspable. The three of them walked on in silence, arm in arm, with Nan in the middle. Beginnings of sentences flared163 and sputtered164 out in her mind like damp fireworks. Slowly the yellow fog, the cold enormous fog that had somehow a rhythm of slow vague swells165 out at sea sifted166 in upon her, blurred the focus of herself that had been for a moment intensely sharp. She so wanted to say something that would make that moment permanent, that would pin down forever the sudden harmony of the three of them so that she could always possess it, no matter what happened after. Epigram, that was the word. There had been Greeks who had cut the flame of an instant deep on stone in broad letters for centuries to read.
"I wish we could walk like this always."
Her throat was dry. At the sound of her thin voice, all her thoughts scuttled167 into the dark like cockroaches168 in a kitchen cupboard. Her mind smoothed to vacancy169.
"How do you mean?" asked Wenny.
"Well, here we are," said Fanshaw in a singsong tone.
The Swansea, in gold gothic letters shaded with black, stared at her from a wide glass door. Beyond white steps another glass door, unmarked. Nan remembered how she used to feel when she was a child and people were getting ready to go into dinner and bedtime came. She turned her back on the sourly familiar letters. Opposite a few twigs of trees leaned into the warm tent of light from a streetlamp out of dark immensity of fog. The light slanting out through the glass door gave a gleam on Fanshaw's glasses that hid his eyes. She pressed ever so slightly his long limp hand and Wenny's hard hand. Wenny's face was flushed from the rawness of the fog and there was a glint in his eyes that made her catch her breath joyously170. She wanted to say something. They turned away, raised their hands vaguely and walked off. Fanshaw had leaned over and said something to Wenny that had made him laugh. The door closed behind her. She had a glimpse of the letters The Swansea inside out. She took her key out of her purse and unlocked the inner door. She hated Fanshaw, his glasses that hid his eyes, his long limp hands. They had gone off carelessly laughing. And Wenny too, with the grime round his collar and his shambling walk like an Italian laborer's. She pushed open the sliding door of the elevator that had a familiar everyday smell of dust and machine oil. The door slid to behind her. She put her finger on the button marked 4. It was the girl in the Fadettes who had gone off with a brown man, garlicky, with bright teeth like the Greeks' were who made epigrams. Nan closed her eyes as the elevator started to rise. She was very tired.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
hairpin
|
|
| n.簪,束发夹，夹发针 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
parlor
|
|
| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
giggle
|
|
| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
celebrities
|
|
| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
crouched
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
gust
|
|
| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
wriggled
|
|
| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
giggling
|
|
| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
rattle
|
|
| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
debris
|
|
| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
whined
|
|
| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
whine
|
|
| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
vibration
|
|
| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
constrained
|
|
| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
sniffed
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
sips
|
|
| n.小口喝，一小口的量( sip的名词复数 )v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
blur
|
|
| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
blurted
|
|
| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
vehemence
|
|
| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
conservatory
|
|
| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
silhouette
|
|
| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
bulge
|
|
| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
calves
|
|
| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
jade
|
|
| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
beads
|
|
| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
hissing
|
|
| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
writhing
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
flares
|
|
| n.喇叭裤v.（使）闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 )；（使）（船舷）外倾；（使）鼻孔张大；（使）（衣裙、酒杯等）呈喇叭形展开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
lashes
|
|
| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
shudders
|
|
| n.颤动，打颤，战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
chrysanthemum
|
|
| n.菊，菊花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
bristling
|
|
| a.竖立的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
hideously
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
knuckles
|
|
| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
exulted
|
|
| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
filthy
|
|
| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
proprietorship
|
|
| n.所有（权）；所有权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
greasy
|
|
| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
reassuring
|
|
| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
crammed
|
|
| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
battered
|
|
| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
cadences
|
|
| n.（声音的）抑扬顿挫( cadence的名词复数 )；节奏；韵律；调子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
winced
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
wince
|
|
| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
tingling
|
|
| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
drowsy
|
|
| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
doze
|
|
| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
lather
|
|
| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
rinsed
|
|
| v.漂洗( rinse的过去式和过去分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
tilted
|
|
| v. 倾斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
fixture
|
|
| n.固定设备；预定日期；比赛时间；定期存款 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
chestnut
|
|
| n.栗树，栗子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
glazed
|
|
| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
dawdling
|
|
| adj.闲逛的，懒散的v.混（时间）( dawdle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
sipping
|
|
| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
dabs
|
|
| 少许( dab的名词复数 )； 是…能手； 做某事很在行； 在某方面技术熟练 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
dab
|
|
| v.轻触，轻拍，轻涂；n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
tangle
|
|
| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
twigs
|
|
| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
slaty
|
|
| 石板一样的，石板色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
tolling
|
|
| [财]来料加工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
crumbs
|
|
| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
zinc
|
|
| n.锌；vt.在...上镀锌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
janitor
|
|
| n.看门人，管门人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
underlying
|
|
| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
merged
|
|
| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
tuned
|
|
| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
commonwealth
|
|
| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
cane
|
|
| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
soda
|
|
| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
blurred
|
|
| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
shameful
|
|
| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
starch
|
|
| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
starched
|
|
| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
spotted
|
|
| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
encompassed
|
|
| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
smelt
|
|
| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
rehearsal
|
|
| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
laborer
|
|
| n.劳动者，劳工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
delving
|
|
| v.深入探究，钻研( delve的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
compartment
|
|
| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
scraps
|
|
| 油渣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
gutter
|
|
| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
gutters
|
|
| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
beacon
|
|
| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
fleeting
|
|
| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
limousines
|
|
| n.豪华轿车( limousine的名词复数 )；（往返机场接送旅客的）中型客车，小型公共汽车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
chrysanthemums
|
|
| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
metallic
|
|
| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
virtuoso
|
|
| n.精于某种艺术或乐器的专家，行家里手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
omnipotent
|
|
| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
sickle
|
|
| n.镰刀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
gadding
|
|
| n.叮搔症adj.蔓生的v.闲逛( gad的现在分词 )；游荡；找乐子；用铁棒刺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
swollen
|
|
| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
ecstasies
|
|
| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
reassure
|
|
| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
milky
|
|
| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
texture
|
|
| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
attuned
|
|
| v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 )；调音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
creases
|
|
| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
blasphemous
|
|
| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
poignance
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
147
brooks
|
|
| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
fumbled
|
|
| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
thigh
|
|
| n.大腿；股骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
fixedly
|
|
| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
suffused
|
|
| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
throbbing
|
|
| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
unfamiliar
|
|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
chilly
|
|
| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
vitality
|
|
| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
lichen
|
|
| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
cosy
|
|
| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
lackadaisical
|
|
| adj.无精打采的，无兴趣的；adv.无精打采地，不决断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
Flared
|
|
| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
sputtered
|
|
| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
swells
|
|
| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
sifted
|
|
| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
scuttled
|
|
| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
cockroaches
|
|
| n.蟑螂( cockroach的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
vacancy
|
|
| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
joyously
|
|
| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |