The next morning, early, my eyes opened suddenly,and I leaped in a sweat from my bed with a terrible feeling that Rennie was dead. I called the Morgans at once, and could scarcely believe it when Rennie herself answered the telephone.
"I'm sorry I woke you up, Rennie. God, I was afraid you'd shot yourself or something already."
"No," she said.
"Listen," I begged. "Promise me you'll wait awhile, will you?"
"I can't promise anything, Jake."
"You've got to, damn it!"
"Why?"
"Well, if for no other reason, because I love you." This, I fear, was not true, at least in the sense that any meaningless proposition is not true, if not false either. I'm not sure whether I knew what I was saying when I told Joe I loved Rennie, but at any rate I couldn't see any meaning in the statement now.
"So does Joe," Rennie said pointedly1.
"Yes, all right, let's say he loves you more than I could ever love anybody. He loves you so much he's willing to let you shoot yourself, and I love you so little that I'm not."
To my surprise Rennie hung up. I immediately dialed her number again. This time Joe answered.
"Rennie doesn't want to talk to you," he said. "That was a stupid thing you said a minute ago -- stupid or malicious3."
"I'm sorry. Listen, Joe, do you think she'll commit suicide?"
"How the hell do I know?"
"Will you stay home with her today and see that she doesn't? Just today?"
"Of course not. For one thing, I can't think of anything more likely to make her do it tomorrow."
"Then youdon't want her to, do you?"
"That's beside the point."
"Just today, Joe! Look, I might be able to get hold of somebody for her if you won't let her do anything today."
"Do you know an abortionist? Why didn't you say so last night?"
"I'm not sure. I don't know any myself, but I know several guys in Baltimore who might know of one. I'm going to call them now. For Christ's sake make her promise to sit still till I see."
"Rennie doesn't take orders from me."
"She will, and you know it. Tell her I know a doctor but I've got to call him to make arrangements."
"We don't operate that way."
"Just today, Joe!"
"Hold on," he said. "Rennie?" I heard him call to her. "Did you intend to kill yourself today?"
I heard Rennie ask why I wanted to know.
"Horner says some of his Baltimore friends might know of an abortionist," Joe said. I was furious that he told her the truth. "He's going to call them and see."
Rennie said something that I couldn't make out.
"She says she doesn't want to talk about anything," Joe said.
"Look, Joe, I'll call around. Maybe it won't even be necessary to have an abortion5. I'll try to get hold of some Ergotrate. That ought to do it. Tell Rennie I'll stop out there today or tonight and either bring the Ergotrate with me or else have something definite arranged."
"Yeah, I'll tell her," Joe said, and hung up.
Now it wasn't quite true -- in fact it wasn't at all true -- that I had friends in Baltimore who might know abortionists, for I had no friends in Baltimore or anywhere else. What I did next was telephone every doctor in Wicomico, in alphabetical6 order. To the first one I said, "Hello. My name is Henry Dempsey. We're new in town and we don't have any regular doctor. Say, listen, my wife's in a terrible predicament: we have two kids already, and she thinks she's pregnant again. She's not a healthy girl -- physically7 okay, you know, but notpsychologically healthy. In fact she's under psychiatric care right now. I frankly8 don't think she could stand the strain of another pregnancy9."
"Really?" said the doctor, not terribly impressed. "Who's her psychiatrist10?"
"You might not know him," I said. "He's in White Plains, New York, where we used to live. His name's Banks -- Dr. Joseph Banks."
"Does your wife commute11 to White Plains for treatment?" the doctor asked innocently.
"We just moved, sir, as I said, and we haven't been able to find another psychiatrist yet."
"Well, I'm sorry; that's out of my line."
"I know, sir; I didn't mean that. I'm afraid my wife might commit suicide or something any time over this pregnancy, before I can get her to another psychiatrist. She's in a terrible state. Frankly, I was wondering if you wouldn't prescribe Ergotrate or something for her. I know it's out of line, but this is a desperate case. In a year, two years, she could very well be well adjusted enough to have all the kids we want -- we don't want alarge family, but we'd like to have three or four. A pregnancy now will ruin all the progress she's made so far. It'll mess her up completely."
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Dempsey," the doctor said coldly. "I can't do that."
"Please, Doctor! This is desperate! I'm not asking you to go outside the law. I'll get a sworn affidavit12 from Dr. Banks in White Plains. Will that be okay? He'll take all the responsibility."
"No, Mr. Dempsey. I couldn't possibly do it. I appreciate your dilemma13, but my hands are tied."
"Doesn't the law allow you to take measures when the woman's life is in danger from the pregnancy?"
"It's not what the law says, I'm afraid: it's what the people in townthink the law says, and frankly the people around here are as opposed to abortions14 as I am, whether they're done by drugs or surgery. Besides, if your wife's trouble is mental, it's not that clearly a matter of life or death."
"It is! Dr. Banks will tell you so!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Dempsey. Good-by."
I tried the same story on the other doctors whom I found listed in the telephone book -- those who would speak to me at all -- only I located my mythical15 psychiatrist in Philadelphia instead of White Plains, in case I had to drive up there to get the proper postmark on a fake letter. Also, after consulting the Philadelphia directory in the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel, I changed the psychiatrist's name from Joseph C. Banks to Harry16 L. Siegrist, the name of a bona fide psychiatric practitioner17 whom I picked at random18 from the book. But all the doctors turned me down. My nerve began to flag: so predisposed am I to obeying laws, and so much do I fear, as a rule, the bad opinion even of people whom I neither know nor care about, that it was all I could do to muster19 courage enough to tell my elaborate fiction just once, and with each refusal it became harder to repeat. The effort was demoralizing.
Doctor #7, to my inexpressible relief, seemed not quite so unreceptive to my story. His name was Morton Welleck, and he sounded like a younger man than his colleagues.
"Now, Mr. Dempsey," he said, when I'd finished my piece, "you realize that any doctor who agrees to help your wife is assuming considerable responsibility, don't you?"
"Indeed I do, Dr. Welleck. If there's any way for me to legally assume all the responsibility, I'll do it gladly."
"But unhappily there isn't. I sympathize with your problem, though, and the law does provide that where there's clear danger to the patient's life, certain measures can be taken at the physician's discretion22. You admit that Mrs. Dempsey is in good physical condition, so the question is whether her psychological condition is as serious as you believe it is. That would be a difficult thing to prove if anybody wanted to make an issue out of it, and I may as well tell you that certain of my older colleagues in Wicomico would jump at the chance to make an issue out of a thing like this. Frankly, I'm hardly the martyr23 type."
But I saw the shadow of a chance in Dr. Welleck's tone.
"Wouldn't a sworn affidavit from Dr. Siegrist do the trick?" I pleaded. "He'd be glad to provide one."
"It might," Dr. Welleck admitted. "Of course, I'd have to examine Mrs. Dempsey myself, if only to make sure she's pregnant!" We both laughed, I more tightly than he. "And I'd want to ask her a few questions, you know, even though I'm not a psychiatrist."
"Certainly," I agreed. "I'll have her come right down to your office." I hoped fervently24 that Dr. Welleck was new in town.
"Do that," he said, "and have Dr. Siegrist call me from Philadelphia, would you? We can decide whether it's advisable to get the affidavit or not, and he can explain Mrs. Dempsey's problem in more detail."
The prospect25 of driving to Philadelphia at once and impersonating a psychiatrist appalled26 me, but it seemed my only hope.
"All right," I agreed, "I'll telephone him as soon as I can and have him call you."
"That will be fine," Dr. Welleck said. He paused a moment. "You realize, Mr. Dempsey, that I can't promise anything. Like a lot of small towns, Wicomico is dead set against frustrating27 Mother Nature. Mainly, I'll admit, it's the older doctors here who are responsible for this sentiment: I doubt there's been a legal abortion here for years and years. Professional ethics28 aside, they're a collection of old sticks-in-the-mud. If they and some of the religious groups in town got wind of anything like this they'd crucify the poor fellow who did it. We can't always be as liberal as some of us might like to be."
"I understand perfectly29, Doctor, but this really is a matter of life or death, I'm afraid."
"Well. We'll see what we can do."
Dr. Welleck's manner gave me some confidence that he could be swindled. For one thing, he talked too much: three of the doctors I'd called had refused to discuss anything at all over the telephone, and none of the others had been anything like so garrulous30 as young Dr. Welleck. Also, from the nature of the conversation I gathered that he was finding it difficult to compete with the older practitioners31, perhaps because he was new in town. Any professional man who would criticize his colleagues to a perfect stranger on the telephone was, I guessed, a man with whom arrangements could be made.
But Philadelphia! To fake a letter was one thing -- I could be anybody in a letter -- but I found it almost insuperably difficult to be even Henry Dempsey on the telephone: how could I be Dr. Harry L. Siegrist? There was no time to waste; already it was ten o'clock, and Philadelphia is two and a half hours from Wicomico. Luckily it was Saturday -- I had no classes to teach, but the college library was open. I drove out there at once, borrowed the first textbook on abnormal psychology32 that I could find, and set out for Philadelphia without delay. I'd gone no more than ten miles before I realized that if an affadavit had to be mailed from Philadelphia, it would certainly have to be a typewritten document, and I'd never be able to find a typewriter in a strange city. Back home I went, breaking the speed limits, and rushed up to my room. It was after eleven when I got there.
To whom it may concern,I wrote, scratching desperately33 for sentences:Susan Bates Dempsey, age twenty-eight, wife of Henry J. Dempsey of Wicomico, Maryland, was a patient of mine between August 3, 1951, and June 17, 1953, shortly after which time Mr. and Mrs. Dempsey left Philadelphia to live in Wicomico. Mrs. Dempsey became my patient on the advice of her husband and her physician, Dr. Edward R. Rice of this city, after suffering frequent periods of acute despondency. During two of these periods she threatened to take her own life, and once even slashed34 her wrists with a kitchen knife. Examination indicated that Mrs. Dempsey had pronounced manic-depressive tendencies, the more dangerous because during her most acute depressions her two young sons often became the objects of her hostility35, although at other times she was a competent, even a superior, mother. Mrs. Dempsey suffered markedly from the fear that she might lose her husband's affections: in her depressive states she was inclined to believe that the birth of her sons had detracted from her beauty, and this belief tended to focus her resentment36 upon her children. However, because she felt only hostility and not persecution37, and because her periods of despondency alternated with periods of intense exuberance38, even jubilation39, my diagnosis40 was subacute manic-depressive psychosis rather than paranoia41.
During the period of her treatment, the amplitude42 of Mrs. Dempsey's manic-depressive cycle showed an appreciable43 decrease, and at no time after becoming my patient did she threaten to take her life or the lives of her children. She responds satisfactorily to competent psychotherapy, andwith continued treatment I believe her condition can be most adequately stabilized44. When the Dempseys left Philadelphia I recommended that her treatment be continued if possible, but suggested to Mr. Dempsey that immediate2 resumption was not urgent. However, I also recommended that Mrs. Dempsey avoid pregnancy until completely cured, since her former pregnancies45 had been largely responsible for her condition.
I believe that an accidental pregnancy at this time will produce a critical recurrence46 of her despondency; that she will again threaten to take her life, rather than carry the fetus47; and that she may very well carry out her threat even if psychiatric treatment were resumed at once, I unhesitatingly recommend, even urge, that for the protection of her other children and herself, Mrs. Dempsey's pregnancy be aborted48 at the earliest possible moment.
I signed the letter,"Harry L. Siegrist, M.D.," put it into an envelope, and hurried back to my car. I stopped along the road to eat lunch and bone up on the manic-depressive psychosis, and by shortly after three o'clock I was in a telephone booth in a Penn-Whelan drugstore on Walnut49 Street in Philadelphia, placing a long-distance call to Dr. Welleck in Wicomico. My hands shook; I sweated profusely50. When I heard Dr. Welleck's receptionist answer, and the operator asked me to deposit sixty cents, I dropped a quarter on the floor: my courage barely sufficed to retrieve51 it and ask for Dr. Welleck.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Siegrist," the receptionist said after I'd introduced myself. "Dr. Welleck is at the hospital just now."
"Oh, that's too bad!" I exclaimed in gruff disappointment. "I don't suppose you could reach him?"
"I'm afraid not, sir; he's in surgery this afternoon."
"What a bother!" I was immensely relieved, almost joyous52, that I wouldn't have to speak to him, but at the same time I feared for my plan.
"I'll have him call you as soon as he comes in, if you like."
"Oh, now, I'm afraid that won't do," I said peevishly53. "My vacation started today, and Mrs. Siegrist and I will be in Bermuda all through October. Mr. Dempsey reached me just as we were closing up the house -- thank heaven! Another hour and we'd have been gone. You know, this is something of an emergency, but my plane leaves two hours from now and I couldn't say where I'll be between now and then. Dr. Welleckwill administer Ergotrate, won't he? This could turn into a nasty thing."
"He wanted to talk to you, Dr. Siegrist."
"I know, I know. Well, see here, I'll have my secretary type up an affidavit before I leave -- this is quite a routine thing, you know -- and I'll have it notarized and sent special delivery and all that. What a nuisance that I can't talk to Dr. Welleck personally!" I said with some heat. "I can't emphasize too much the seriousness of this sort of thing with a manic-depressive like Mrs. Dempsey. She could behave perfectly normally one moment and shoot herself the next, if she hasn't already. Really, Dr. Welleck should give her the Ergotrate at the earliest possible moment. Tonight if possible; tomorrow at the very latest. I've already arranged with Mr. Dempsey to place his wife under the care of one of my colleagues until I get back, but this thing really must be taken care of first."
"I'll tell Dr. Welleck at once," the receptionist said, clearly impressed.
"Please do, and he'll get the affidavit tomorrow morning."
"Could you give me your Bermuda address, sir, in case Dr. Welleck wants to get in touch with you?"
Great heavens! "Mrs. Siegrist and I will be stopping at the Prince George Hotel," I said, hoping there was such a place.
"The Prince George. Thank you, sir."
"And please, tell Dr. Welleck to get that Ergotrate into Mrs. Dempsey as soon as he can. I'd hate to lose a patient over something as silly as this. I don't blame the man for being cautious, but I must say that if it were I, she'd be aborted by this time. A layman54 could tell she's manic-depressive, and her suicidal tendencies stick out all over. Good-by, now."
I hung up, and very nearly fainted. A big obstacle was behind me, but there was a still bigger one ahead. I found a notary55 public in a loan office two blocks down Walnut Street (which I prayed Dr. Siegrist didn't happen to patronize) and went in quickly before my nerve failed. It is my lot to look older than my years, but I could scarcely believe anyone would seriously take me for a certified56 psychiatrist. Besides, it is even more difficult to act out a fiction face to face with the man you're lying to than it is to do it on the telephone. Finally, I wasn't at all sure that notaries57 didn't demand identification before administering the oath and seal. Assuming the most worldly manner I could muster, I asked a clerk where the notary public was, and he directed me to the assistant manager's desk across the room.
"Howdy do," smiled the assistant manager, a squat58, bald-headed, cigar-chewing little man with steel-rimmed glasses.
"My name's Siegrist," I said genially59: "Harry Siegrist. I've a paper here somewhere to be notarized, if I haven't left it at the office." I smiled whimsically and made a leisurely60 search of my pockets. "Oh yes, here you are, you little rascal61." I fetched the letter from my inside coat pocket, opened it, and casually62 scanned it. "Mmm-hmm. There you go, sir."
The assistant manager read the document carelessly.
"Boy oh boy," he said. "She's a real bat, isn't she, Doc?"
"Oh, not as bad as some we get," I chuckled63, so pleased I could have died. "Life is just one lunatic after another."
"Ha!" said the notary. "You ought to see some of the boobies we get in here. You could make a fortune."
"I'll bet."
I waited to be asked for my credentials64.
"I swear," the notary mused65 absently, reading my letter again, "I think it's all in their heads. Well --"
He began fumbling66 in his desk drawer. "Raise your right hand a little bit, will you, Doc?"
I did, and he likewise.
"Now, then, d'you swear before God that the blah blah blah blah and all that?" he asked, still digging around in his desk with the other hand.
"I do."
"Won't make no difference whether you do or not if I can't find my seal," he said cheerfully. My head reeled -- after my good luck in finding a notary as cynical67 as he was credulous68, could my scheme hang on such a mischance as this?
"Ah, there she blows," he said, fishing out the seal. He clamped the official impression on my letter and signed it. Then he called two nearby clerks over to sign as witnesses. "Don't mind reading it," he told them. "Where would American business be today if everybody read things before they signed them? Just put your John Hancock where it says." They did. "All right, Doctor: buck69 and a half."
I paid him with a bill from my wallet, holding my identity card from view, and left with my letter, which I dropped into the first deposit box I encountered. So much for Philadelphia -- it was four o'clock, and I had to get home fast. In general I was amazed at the success of my plan, but four distressing70 things were on my mind. First, I had no idea whether Dr. Welleck would be convinced by my completely non-technical affidavit, which for all I knew any M.D. might be able to recognize as spurious at first glance; at any rate, it was entirely71 possible that if any doubt remained in his mind the coincidence of Dr. Siegrist's taking so immediate a vacation might turn that doubt into frank skepticism: should Welleck at any time be dubious72 enough to call the office of the real Dr. Siegrist, the jig73 was up. Second, I had deliberately74 not left a telephone number with Welleck, and of course there was no Henry Dempsey in the Wicomico directory; despite the fact that there are human beings without telephones, Welleck's inability to reach me, should he try before I got home and called him, could add to his suspicion. The third unknown was even more worrisome: even if everything else worked out perfectly and Welleck consented to administer the Ergotrate, it was quite possible that he was not new in town at all and might know Rennie. Finally, even if he didn't, there was one more danger: so innocent was I of the business of abortion that, for all I knew, Welleck might require that Rennie go to the hospital for something or other, since the thing was going to be legal, and even if Welleck himself didn't know her, someone at the hospital surely would.
As soon as I reached my room again I called Welleck at his house.
"Oh, Mr. Dempsey," he said, a little coldly. "I've been trying to telephone you."
"I'm sorry, Doctor. We haven't had a phone put in yet, and I have to use my landlord's. I'd have called you earlier, but I've been driving my wife around in the country today, to sort of keep her mind off things."
"Well, Dr. Siegrist called from Philadelphia."
"Did he? Good! I barely caught him before he left on his vacation. Did you get anything straightened out?"
"I didn't talk to him. I was in surgery. He talked to my receptionist, and he's sending down an affidavit. My understanding is that he strongly recommends the abortion."
"Whew!" I laughed. "You don't know how relieved I am."
"Yes. Now he said something to my receptionist about giving the Ergotrate tonight, but I'm afraid I can't do it until I have the affidavit in my hands. If he mailed it special delivery this afternoon, I should get it at least by Monday morning."
"That's wonderful."
"You give me your landlord's number and I'll let you know when the affidavit comes so you can bring Mrs. Dempsey in to the office."
"Well, now, my landlord's right touchy75 about receiving calls for me, and frankly this is none of his business. I'd rather he knew nothing about it, because he's a terrible gossip. Couldn't I call you?"
"Perhaps that would be better. Despite the fact that this won't be illegal, we'd just as well keep it quiet. Call me around noon on Monday, and if I have the affidavit I'll give you an appointment for after lunch."
"That's fine."
"Oh, one more thing. I have a standard authorization76 form that I use for sterilizations, abortions, and the like. Both you and your wife will have to sign it, and you'll have to get it notarized. You could do that Monday morning if you like. Just pick up the form from my receptionist."
"Okay. Swell77. Good night, Doctor."
Another document, another notary, another hurdle78 to clear -- but by this time I was past caring. I drove in weary triumph out to the Morgans' house to announce rny success. On their doorstep I got the cold shudders79: I'd been out of town most of the day -- what if I was already too late? Joe answered the door.
"Oh, hello, Jake. You look sick."
"Is Rennie okay?"
"She's still with us, if that's what you mean. Come on in."
Rennie was waxing the kitchen floor. She scarcely acknowledged my presence.
"Well, I think it's all set," I said, feigning80 tranquillity81. "If you want an abortion, Rennie, you can get a shot of Ergotrate Monday afternoon."
Joe showed no reaction to the news. Rennie came to the kitchen doorway83, waxing rag in hand, and leaned against the doorframe.
"All right. Where do I have to go? Baltimore?"
"Nope. Right here in town. Just don't tell me you know Dr. Morton Welleck."
"Dr. Welleck. No, I don't know him. Do you, Joe?"
"I know of him. He's been here about two years. You mean the damned fool's an abortionist?"
"Nope," I said, not a little proudly. "He's a completely legitimate84 doctor, and a pretty good one, so I hear. And everything's going to be completely legal. You don't have to feel guilty or afraid of going to him at all."
"How come?" Joe asked.
"As a matter of fact, I told him pretty much the truth. I said you had two kids already and wanted more later, but you were so despondent85 about getting pregnant just now that I was afraid you were on the verge86 of suicide. Of course it was a little more elaborate than that."
"How was it more elaborate, Jake?" Rennie asked wonderingly.
"Well, I had to jazz it up a little. You're my wife these days, for one thing: Mrs. Henry J. Dempsey, of the Philadelphia Dempseys."
"What?"
I warmed to the story then, exhilarated by my day's adventures, and told them in detail about the telephone calls, the trip to Philadelphia, the letter, the impersonations of Dr. Siegrist, and the assistant manager of the loan office. They listened in astonishment87.
"So, all Mr. and Mrs. Dempsey have to do now is sign an authorization Monday morning and get it notarized, and we're set. You don't have to act crazy or anything, and once you've had the shot you can forget the whole business."
Joe watched Rennie with interest.
"That's absurd," she said at once.
"Isn't it fantastic?" I grinned, not wanting to believe she meant what I feared she meant.
"It's horrible!"
"You'll do it, won't you?"
"Of course not. It's out of the question."
"Out of the question! Good Christ, Rennie, I've run my ass21 off today getting it set up, and you say it's out of the question. Nothing will happen, I swear!"
"That isn't the point, Jake. I'm through lying. Even if I didn't have to sign anything or say anything it would still be lying. You should've known I wouldn't want anything to do with it."
I was sick: the whole edifice88 came down. Joe's expression didn't change, but I felt a great unanimity89 of spirit between him and Rennie. I was out of it.
"Shoot yourself then, damn it!" I cried. "I don't know why I bothered to sweat my tail off for you today anyhow, if you don't really want an abortion. Obviously you were just being melodramatic last night."
Rennie smiled. "Iam going to shoot myself, Jake, as soon as it's clear that you can't arrange an abortion. I wasn't just being dramatic. I don't care who does the job or where it's done or under what circumstances, but I won't tell lies or assent90 to lies, and I won't pretend to be anybody but myself. I don't know anybody and Joe doesn't either. If you hadn't said you thought you did, I wouldn't have waited this long." She rubbed her hand once across her stomach. "I don't want this baby, Jake. It might be yours."
She was clearly sincere. I looked desperately to Joe for support, but he was noncommittal. Again I felt their unanimity. It occurred to me to accuse them of romanticism; to make fun of their queer honor -- God knows it needed poking91 fun at, and a great part of me longed to do the job wholeheartedly -- but I no longer trusted this strategy: it might only confirm what was already evidently a pretty fixed92 resolve.
"Don't do it yet, Rennie," I said wearily. "I'll think of something else."
"What will you think of, Jake? If you had any real ideas you wouldn't have started with something as fantastic as this business today. If you think I'll change my mind if you stall long enough, you're wrong."
"What about the boys? Have you given them a thought, or are you going to plug them too?"
"You're asking questions you don't have to ask," Joe said.
"Don't play games, Jake," Rennie said. "Do you have anything on your mind or not?"
"Yes, I do," I said. "I know a woman in town who's had a couple of abortions. I'd have thought of her before if I hadn't been so excited. I'll see her tomorrow and find out where she had them done."
"I don't believe you," Rennie said.
"It's the truth, I swear it."
"What's her name, then? Don't make up one."
"Peggy Rankin. She teaches English at the high school."
Rennie went to the telephone at once and looked for the name in the directory.
"8401," she said. "I'll call her and ask her."
"Don't be silly! She's not married. Would she admit something like that to a stranger?"
"You call her, then. Right now. You must not be a stranger if you know that about her."
"You're making it impossible. Women don't work that way -- other women, anyhow. I'll see her tomorrow and let you know tomorrow night."
"I think you're stalling, Jake,"
"Well, think it, damn it! Are you so trigger-happy you can't wait twenty-four hours?" I felt as though I'd explode any instant from sheer desperation, but still Joe watched us impassively. There were books and notebooks open beside the telephone on the writing table: he'd been working on his dissertation93! Rennie thought a moment.
"I'll wait till tomorrow night," she said, and went back to waxing the floor.
Rennie had stated the matter exactly when she accused me of stalling in hopes that she'd change her mind, but I could no longer entertain such hopes. Certainly I hadn't the slightest idea whether Peggy Rankin had ever had an abortion, and I had no reason to expect that she'd help me even if she could, for I'd not seen her since the time early in September. She had telephoned me -- first hopefully, then angrily, and at last pleadingly -- a number of times in the past few weeks, but I'd received her calls without warmth or encouragement. The next morning, Sunday, I telephoned her.
"This is Jake Horner, Peggy. I have to see you about something important."
"Well, I don't want to see you," she said.
"This is something awfully94 serious, Peggy, believe me."
"Yes. It has been about a month, hasn't it?"
"Listen, it doesn't have anything to do with that. I'm trying to help somebody who needs help very badly."
"You're a real humanitarian95, all right."
"Peggy, for God's sake! I won't pretend I've been very thoughtful of you, but this is a pretty desperate thing. I realize there's no reason why you should do me any favors."
"That's right."
"Look, you've got me over a barrel. You might not be able to help these friends of mine even if you wanted to, but they're in such a spot that I'd do absolutely anything to help them out. Name your own conditions."
"What do you want me to do?"
"All I want you to do is let me talk to you for a few minutes. As I said, you might not be able to help at all, but there's just a chance that you might."
"Who are the friends?"
"I can't talk over the phone. Can I see you today?"
"Jake, if this is another line I'll kill you."
"It's no line!" I said vehemently96. "This doesn't have anything to do with me. When can I see you? The sooner the better."
"Well. All right, then. Come on over now. But, God, Jake, be straight this time."
"This is straight."
I drove over to her place immediately, and she received me with great suspicion, as though she expected to be assaulted at any moment.
"I don't even like to have you in here," she said nervously97. "What is it?"
"The wife of one of the guys at school is pregnant, Peggy, and she's going to kill herself if she can't get an abortion."
Peggy's face went hard. "What a monster you are! And you come to me for help!"
"You don't understand yet. They're both good friends of mine, and they don't know where to get the abortion."
"Am I supposed to know? Why doesn't she have the kid, if she's married?" This last with some bitterness.
"She's got two already, and frankly there's some question about who's the father of this one. That's why she's desperate. Her husband knows all about it. She just made one slip."
"Jake, are you the one?"
This I took to be a crucial question: her willingness to help might hinge on my answer, and I had no idea which answer she wanted to hear.
"That's right, Peggy." I looked her straight in the eye, putting all my money on honesty. "It was the stupidest thing I ever did in my life, and now she's going to shoot herself. I've messed them up completely. All I can do now is try to clean up as much of the mess as I can."
"When did you start cleaning up your messes?"
"Two days ago. If I can't find a way to help them by tonight, it'll be too late. That's all the time I've got."
"She won't kill herself," Peggy said contemptuously. "If women killed themselves out of remorse98 I'd have been dead at least since July."
"She will, Peggy. She'd be dead now if I hadn't stopped her, and she'll be dead tomorrow if I can't help her."
"What do you care?"
I still looked her straight in the eye. "I said I'm trying to clean up my messes."
"You meanthis mess."
"I mean all my messes."
"Some of them it's too late to clean up."
"Maybe. But I'm going to do my best."
"What's that?"
"I don't know, Peggy. I'm new at this. Right now I'm doing whatever people want me to do. I said you could name your conditions."
Peggy stared at me awhile.
"Who's this girl?"
"Rennie Morgan. Her husband teaches history at the college."
But obviously Peggy was more concerned about herself.
"Do you think I've had abortions before? I guess you'd assume that, though, wouldn't you?"
"I'm not assuming anything. I hoped you'd know somebody who has had one, or that maybe you'd have heard of an abortionist."
"Suppose I did know of one?"
"I said already there's no reason why you should help me, and I take it you don't feel one way or the other about Rennie Morgan -- or maybe you dislike her, I don't know. All I can say is that this is my last chance to keep her from committing suicide, and I'll do anything to get your help."
"You must love her a lot."
"If I do I don't know it. Do you know of an abortionist, Peggy?"
After a while she said, "Yes, I do. I had to find one myself, two years ago."
"Who was it?"
"I haven't decided99 yet that I'm going to help you, Jake."
"Look," I said, in the straightest tone I could manage, "you don't have to assert your position; I'm aware of your position. You don't have to hold out for anything; I've already told you to write your own ticket."
"I could help you," Peggy said; "this man's still around, and he'd do the job. His price is two hundred dollars."
I thought it would be effective if I stood close in front of her, laid my hands on her shoulders, and leaned down to look into her eyes. And so I did.
"What's yours?" I asked, with appropriate calm.
"Oh, Jake, I could name a high price! You've been desperate for a day or two, but I've been desperate for fifteen years!"
"Name it."
"Why? Once she'd had the operation, you'd leave me."
"You want me to marry you, Peggy?"
"That would be my price," she said.
"I'll do it."
"You probably would. Then which would you do afterwards? Just leave me flat, or torture me for the rest of my life?"
"Neither one of those sounds like a good way to clean up messes," I grinned.
"You couldn't possibly do anything else but hate me. No man ever loved a woman he was coerced100 into marrying."
"Try me."
Peggy was extremely nervous, excited by the position she had me in, a little afraid of her temerity101.
"How can I believe you, Jake? You haven't done one single thing to make me believe you can be trusted."
"I know it."
"And yet you say you're being sincere this time?"
"That's right."
"You don't love me."
"I don't love anybody. But I've been a bachelor a good while, and even without this abortion thing I owe you enough to last a right long time."
Peggy shook off my hands and whipped her head in a manner quite like Rennie's.
"What is it about you? Even when you're being kind you put me in a false position -- a humiliating position."
"Well, you be quiet, then. Let me propose to you. I've decided that I want to marry you. If I ever said an honest thing in my life, that's it."
"You never did say an honest thing to me, did you?"
"I just said one. I'd marry you today if we could get the license102 on Sunday. We'll get it tomorrow and get married on Wednesday."
"You said she had to know tonight."
"That's right. All you have to do is tell her you know a guy. You can call her right now. I think that'll do it. Tell her that for personal reasons or something you can't give his name until Wednesday. If she agrees to wait, I'm satisfied."
"But if she doesn't, that's that?"
Another crucial question, but the proper answer was obvious.
"If she doesn't, there's nothing else I can do for her, but I don't see where that would change my obligation to you. You'd have done all I asked, and I'd do everything I promised."
Now Peggy began to cry, squirming with indecision.
"I'll marry you and love you as much as I can ever love anybody, for the rest of my life," I swore.
She wept for a while without replying, until I began to grow apprehensive103. Something else had to be done, immediately. What? I considered embracing her: would that turn the trick, or spoil everything? I was aware that every move was critical now; any word or action -- or any silence or inaction -- could convince her suddenly of my sincerity104 or insincerity. Peggy Rankin! I was cursed with an imagination too fertile to be of any use in predicting my fellow human beings: no matter how intimate my knowledge of them, I was always able to imagine and justify105 contradictory106 reactions from them to almost anything. A kiss now: would she regard it as evidence that I was overplaying my hand, or as evidence that I was too sincere to care whether she thought me insincere? If I made no move, would she think my inaction proof that I couldn't carry the fraud further, that I was so sure she was hooked that no further move was necessary, or that in my profound sincerity I was afraid to move for fear she'd think my proposal a mere107 stratagem108 after all?
I took her head in my hands and turned her face up to me. She hesitated for a moment and then accepted a long, hard kiss.
"Thank God you believed me, Peggy," I said quietly.
"I don't."
"What?"
"I don't believe a single lying word you've said since you walked in here. I should have hung up on you when you called. Please get out."
"Good Christ, Peggy! You've got to believe me!"
"If you don't get out I'm going to scream. I mean it."
"Don't you believe Rennie Morgan's going to shoot herself?" I shouted.
She let out a yell, and I had to clap my hand over her mouth to stop her. She kicked and pummeled me, and tried to bite my hand. I forced her back into her chair, sat on her lap to keep her legs still, and clamped my other hand around her throat. She was fairly strong, and it was all I could do to hold her -- with Rennie it would not have been possible at all.
"I'm more desperate than you think, damn it! I meant it when I said I'd marry you, and I mean it when I say I'm going to throttle109 you right this minute if you don't help me."
Her eyes got round, I took my hand off her mouth, and as soon as she tried to holler again I squeezed her windpipe hard -- really hard, digging my thumb and forefinger110 into the sides of her neck.
"Stop it!" she squeaked111. I let up, afraid I'd really damaged her. The breath rushed into her lungs with a great croak112.
"Who's the abortionist?" I demanded.
"There isn't any," she said, clutching her throat. "I don't know any! I was just trying to --"
I slammed her as hard as I could and ran out of the place.
There was nothing else to do: whether I had been sincere or not, whether she had been lying or not, made no difference now. I went home and sat in the rocking chair, sick. It was already eleven-thirty in the morning. I was out of straws to clutch at, and out of energy, beaten clear down the line. I tried to force my imagination to dream up another long shot, but all I could think of was Rennie, eight or ten hours from that moment, going to the living-room closet without a word. Joe, perhaps, would be bent113 over a notebook on the writing table. He might hear Rennie put down -- her newspaper? -- and go to the closet. I could imagine him then either continuing to stare at the notebook, but no longer seeing the words he'd written, or maybe turning his head to watch her open the closet door. The boys would be asleep in their room. I didn't believe Rennie would come back into the living room to do it. There in the closet, where the half-open door would stand between her and Joe, she'd reach the Colt down from the shelf, move the safety catch off, put the muzzle114 to her temple, and pull the trigger at once, before the feel of the barrel against her head made her vomit115. I believed she might sit down on the closet floor to do it.
That was as far as I could imagine with any clarity, for I'd never seen a bloody116 corpse117. For perhaps two hours -- that is, until about one-thirty -- this sequence of actions repeated itself over and over in my imagination, up to the moment of the explosion. Drastic courses of action: I could go out there and -- try to rush for the gun? But what would I do with it? They'd simply look at me, and Rennie would use something else later. Grab Rennie and hold her, if possible. Forever? Call the police and tell them -- that a woman was about to commit suicide. What could they do? She'd be sitting home reading the paper, Joe working at the writing table. Tell her I've arranged an abortion -- with whom? For when? Tell her -- what?
My rocking slowed to a nearly imperceptible movement. Except for the idea of the gun against Rennie's temple, the idea of the lead slug waiting deep in the chamber118 -- which was not an image but a tenseness, a kind of drone in my head -- my imagination no longer pictured anything. My bladder was full; I needed to go to the bathroom, but I didn't go. After a while the urgency passed. I decided to try to sayPepsi-Cola hits the spot, but after the first couplet I forgot to say the rest. The urge to urinate returned, more sharply than before. I couldn't decide to get up.
Someone downstairs turned a radio on loud, and I jumped to my feet. It was three o'clock: the half-minute that I thought I'd spent not getting up to go to the bathroom had been an hour and a quarter! A moment later I hurried downstairs to the car; I drove out past the Morgans' at sixty miles an hour, out in the country to Vineland, and to the Remobilization Farm. I found Mrs. Dockey in the entrance hall, tying up large corrugated119 boxes with rope.
"Where's the Doctor? I have to see him right away."
She jerked her head toward the back of the house. As I went through the reception room I noticed rolled carpets, disarranged furniture, and more paper boxes.
"You're upset," the Doctor observed as soon as he saw me. Dressed in a black wool suit, he was reading the Sunday paper on the back porch, which in cold weather was converted into a sun parlor120. He was, fortunately, alone: most of the patients were either taking the air out front or lounging in the reception room. "Sit down."
"I had a touch of my trouble this afternoon," I said.
"Immobility?" He put down his paper and looked at me more carefully. "Then you haven't been applying the therapies."
"No, I'll confess I haven't. I've been awfully busy lately."
It was cool outside, even chilly121, but the sun shone brightly, and out over a marshy122 creek123 behind the farmhouse124 a big gray fish hawk125 hung motionless against the wind. I didn't know where to start.
"If that's so," the Doctor said critically, "I don't understand why you were immobilized."
"I think I can explain it. What I've been doing is trying to straighten out some problems that have come up."
"Well. This time I'm afraid I'll have to know the problem, since it developed after you started therapy. Maybe we'd better go into the Progress and Advice Room."
"I can tell you right here. It won't take long."
"No. Let's go into the Progress and Advice Room. You go on in -- tell Mrs. Dockey so she'll know where we are -- and I'll be there in a minute."
I did as he said, and a little while later he came in and took his position facing me. He'd changed into a white medical jacket. His reason for insisting that we use the room was apparent: not only was the patient's story useful, but in the Progress and Advice Room the very telling of it became a kind of therapy. I felt as a patient must feel on the traditional psychoanalyst's couch -- asking not just for assistance but for treatment.
"Now, what is it?" he asked.
With my knees straight in front of me and my arms folded across my chest, I told him as best I could the story of my brief affair with Rennie, and its consequences. To my surprise it came rather easily, so long as I stuck to the actual events and made no attempt to explain anybody's motives126. The most difficult thing was to handle my eyes during the telling: the Doctor, as usual, leaned forward, rolling his unlit cigar around in his mouth, and watched my face the whole time; I focused first on his left eye, then on his right, then on his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cigar -- and it became disconcerting that I couldn't hold my eyes still for more than a few moments. I told him all the details of my search for an abortionist, and even my interview with Peggy Rankin. It was enormously refreshing127 to articulate it all.
"There's no question at all about Rennie's resolve," I said at last. "She'll commit suicide tonight if I can't tell her something definite, and I ran out of possibilities at eleven-thirty this morning. It was after that that the paralysis128 set in, and it lasted until an hour or so ago, when somebody downstairs from me turned a radio on. She'll shoot herself five or six hours from now."
"Is this your idea of a tranquil82 existence?" the Doctor demanded irritably129. "I told you to avoid complications! I told you specifically not to become involved with women! Did you think your therapies were just silly games? Were you just playing along with me to amuse yourself?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Of course you do. For a long time you've considered me some kind of charlatan130, or quack131, or worse. That's been clear enough, and I allowed you to go on thinking so, as long as you did what I told you, because in your case that sort of attitude can be therapeutic132 itself. But when you begin to disregard my advice, then that attitude is very dangerous, as I trust you see now."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you understand that if you'd kept up with your treatment you wouldn't be here right now? If you'd studied yourWorld Almanac every day, and thought of nothing but your grammar students, and practiced Sinistrality, Antecedence133, and Alphabetical Priority -- particularly if you thought them absurd but practiced them anyway -- nothing that happened would have been a problem for you."
"Frankly, Doctor, I've been more concerned about the Morgans lately than about myself."
"And you see what's happened! Why, if you'd been consistent, even a little obvious, in applying your therapies, I don't think any of it would have happened in the first place. I didn't tell you to make friends! You should have been thinking of nothing but your immobility."
It was time to tell him why I had come out to see him, but he went on talking.
"Now clearly this paralysis you just had is a different sort from what you had before. In Penn Station it was inability to choose that immobilized you. That's the case I'm interested in, and that's the case I've been treating. But this was a simple matter of running yourself into a blind alley134 -- a vulgar, stupid condition, not even a dilemma, and yet it undoes135 all I'd accomplished136."
"Doctor, excuse me -- that girl's going to shoot herself!"
"It would serve you right if the husband shot you. Mythotherapy -- Mythotherapy would have kept you out of any involvement, if you'd practiced it assiduously the whole time. Actually you did practice it, but like a ninny you gave yourself the wrong part. Even the villain137's role would have been all right, if you'd been an out-and-out villain with no regrets! But you've made yourself a penitent138 when it's too late to repent139, and that's the best role I can think of to immobilize you. Well!" he exclaimed, really disturbed. "Your case was the most interesting I've treated for years, and you've all but ruined it!"
For a full two minutes he chewed his cigar in angry silence. I was terribly conscious of minutes slipping by.
"Can't you --"
"Be quiet!" he said impatiently. After a while he said, "The girl's suicide will be entirely anti-therapeutic. Even disastrous140. For one thing, the husband might shoot you, or you might even shoot yourself, you've relapsed so badly. These two eventualities I could prevent by keeping you here on the farm, but he might get the police to hunt for you when he finds out you're gone, and I don't want them out here. You've completely botched things! You've spoiled two years of my work with this silly affair."
"Can you give her a shot of Ergotrate, Doctor?" I asked quickly.
The Doctor removed the cigar from his mouth for a moment in order to look at me the more caustically141. "My dear fellow, for what earthly reason would I have Ergotrate here? Do you think these ladies and gentlemen conceive children?"
I blushed. "Well -- could you write a prescription142?"
"Don't be any more na?ve than you have to. You could just as well write one yourself."
"God. I don't know what to do."
"Horner, stop being innocent. You came out here to ask me to abort4 the fetus, not to talk about your immobility."
"Will you do it?" I begged him. "I'll pay anything you want to charge."
"An empty statement. Suppose I wanted to charge seven thousand dollars? What you mean is that you'll pay up to maybe five hundred dollars. And since you'd renege on payments after the thing was done, the possible price couldn't be more than one or two hundred. Unless I'm greatly mistaken you haven't more than that on hand."
"I've got about two seventy-five, Doctor. I'll give it to you gladly."
"Horner, I'm not an abortionist. I've aborted perhaps ten fetuses143 in my whole career, and that was years ago. If I performed an abortion now I'd jeopardize144 this whole establishment, the future welfare of my patients, and my own freedon. Is two hundred and seventy-five dollars enough for that? Or five thousand, for that matter?"
"I can't offer you anything else."
"Yes, you can, and if you do I'll abort the girl's fetus."
"I'll agree to anything."
"Certainly. But whether you keep your agreement is another matter. I'm preparing to relocate the farm -- no doubt you noticed the things in the entrance hall and the reception room. For a change, we're moving because we want to and not because we have to; I've found a better location, in Pennsylvania, and we're leaving Wednesday. Mrs. Dockey would have contacted you tomorrow if you hadn't come out here today. Now, then, if it weren't for this, the abortion would be out of the question; since we're moving anyway, I'll perform it tonight."
I could scarcely believe my ears. The shock brought tears to my eyes, and I laughed sharply.
"What I'd like to do is simply give you a catheter for the girl. If she walked around with that in her for a day or two it would induce labor20 and abort the fetus. She'd hemorrhage a lot, but the hospital would have to accept her as an emergency case. This would be better because she wouldn't have to come out here at all, but it takes too long; she might not even start labor until Wednesday, and she'd be so miserable145 with the catheter in her uterus that she'd probably kill herself anyway. Bring her out here tonight, and I'll scrape the uterus and get it over with."
"I will! Lord, that's wonderful!"
"It's not. It's sordid146 and disgusting, but I'll do it as a last resort to save your case. What you have to do in return is not only give me all the money you've got to help move the farm to Pennsylvania, but quit your job and come with us. I require this for two reasons: first, and most important, I want you on hand twenty-four hours a day so I can establish you on your schedule of therapies again; second, I'll need a young man to do a great deal of manual labor while the new farm is being set up. That will be your first therapy. Perhaps my fee is too high?"
I remembered the old men in the dormitory.
"Don't dawdle147, Horner," the Doctor said sternly, "or I'll refuse. Your case is a hobby with me, but it's not an obsession148, and you annoy me as often as you entertain me."
"I'll do it," I said.
"Very well. Tonight I'll do the abortion. You'll have to bring a check for the money, since it's Sunday. Tomorrow you let the college know you're quitting, and Wednesday morning be at the Greyhound terminal in Wicomico at eight-thirty. You'll meet Mrs. Dockey and some of the patients there and go up with them on the bus."
"All right."
"Do you want me to explain all the things I can do to make sure you keep your promise, or at least make you awfully sorry you broke it?"
"You don't have to, Doctor," I said. "I'm exhausted149. I'll keep it."
"I'm sure you will," he smiled, "whether you are or not. All right, that's all." He stood up. "The patients go to bed at nine. Bring the girl out at nine-thirty. Don't shine your headlights on the house, and don't make noise; you'll alarm everybody upstairs. And bring your check and your bankbook, so I'll know the check's as large as possible. Good-by."
As I went out, I found Mrs. Dockey still stolidly150 tying up boxes in the entrance hall.
"The Doctor told me about moving," I said to her. "It looks like I'll be going along with you, for a while, anyhow."
"Okay," she growled151, without looking at me. "Be there at eight-thirty sharp. Bus leaves at eight-forty."
"I will," I said, and half ran to the car. It was then close to five o'clock.
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pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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abort
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abortion
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alphabetical
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physically
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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pregnancy
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psychiatrist
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| n.精神病专家；精神病医师 | |
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commute
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affidavit
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dilemma
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abortions
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| n.小产( abortion的名词复数 )；小产胎儿；（计划）等中止或夭折；败育 | |
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mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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harry
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practitioner
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random
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muster
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labor
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ass
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discretion
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martyr
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fervently
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prospect
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appalled
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frustrating
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ethics
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perfectly
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garrulous
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practitioners
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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desperately
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slashed
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hostility
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resentment
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persecution
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exuberance
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jubilation
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diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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paranoia
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| n.妄想狂，偏执狂；多疑症 | |
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42
amplitude
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| n.广大；充足；振幅 | |
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appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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44
stabilized
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| v.（使）稳定， （使）稳固( stabilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
pregnancies
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| 怀孕，妊娠( pregnancy的名词复数 ) | |
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46
recurrence
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| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
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47
fetus
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| n.胎，胎儿 | |
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48
aborted
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| adj.流产的，失败的v.（使）流产( abort的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）（某事物）中止；（因故障等而）（使）（飞机、宇宙飞船、导弹等）中断飞行；（使）（飞行任务等）中途失败 | |
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49
walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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50
profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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51
retrieve
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| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
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52
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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53
peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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54
layman
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| n.俗人，门外汉，凡人 | |
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55
notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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56
certified
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| a.经证明合格的；具有证明文件的 | |
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57
notaries
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| n.公证人，公证员( notary的名词复数 ) | |
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58
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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59
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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60
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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61
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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62
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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63
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
credentials
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| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
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65
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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66
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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67
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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68
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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69
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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70
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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71
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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72
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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73
jig
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| n.快步舞（曲）；v.上下晃动；用夹具辅助加工；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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74
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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75
touchy
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| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
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76
authorization
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| n.授权，委任状 | |
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77
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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78
hurdle
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| n.跳栏，栏架；障碍，困难；vi.进行跨栏赛 | |
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79
shudders
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| 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 | |
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80
feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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81
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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82
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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83
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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84
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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85
despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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86
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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87
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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88
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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89
unanimity
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| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
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90
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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91
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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92
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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93
dissertation
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| n.（博士学位）论文，学术演讲，专题论文 | |
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94
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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95
humanitarian
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| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
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96
vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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97
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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98
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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99
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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100
coerced
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| v.迫使做( coerce的过去式和过去分词 )；强迫；（以武力、惩罚、威胁等手段）控制；支配 | |
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101
temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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102
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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103
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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104
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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105
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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106
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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107
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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108
stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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109
throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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110
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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111
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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112
croak
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| vi.嘎嘎叫，发牢骚 | |
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113
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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114
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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115
vomit
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| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
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116
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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117
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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118
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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119
corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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120
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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121
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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122
marshy
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| adj.沼泽的 | |
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123
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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124
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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125
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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126
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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127
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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128
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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129
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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130
charlatan
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| n.骗子；江湖医生；假内行 | |
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131
quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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132
therapeutic
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| adj.治疗的，起治疗作用的；对身心健康有益的 | |
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133
antecedence
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| n.居先，优先 | |
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134
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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135
undoes
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| 松开( undo的第三人称单数 )； 解开； 毁灭； 败坏 | |
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136
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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137
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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138
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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139
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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140
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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141
caustically
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| adv.刻薄地；挖苦地；尖刻地；讥刺地 | |
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142
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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143
fetuses
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| n.胎，胎儿( fetus的名词复数 ) | |
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144
jeopardize
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| vt.危及，损害 | |
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145
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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146
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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147
dawdle
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| vi.浪费时间；闲荡 | |
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148
obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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149
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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150
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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151
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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