Two men in pale blue were lying in the irregular line that stretched along the edge of the captured Roehampton stage from end to end, grasping their carbines and peering into the shadows of the stage called Wimbledon Park. Now and then they spoke1 to one another. They spoke the mutilated English of their class and period. The fire of the Ostrogites had dwindled2 and ceased, and few of the enemy had been seen for some time. But the echoes of the fight that was going on now far below in the lower galleries of that stage, came every now and then between the staccato of shots from the popular side. One of these men was describing to the other how he had seen a man down below there dodge3 behind a girder, and had aimed at a guess and hit him cleanly as he dodged4 too far "He's down there still," said the marksman. "See that little patch. Yes. Between those bars." A few yards behind them lay a dead stranger, face upward to the sky, with the blue canvas of his jacket smoldering6 in a circle about the neat bullet hole on his chest. Close beside him a wounded man, with a leg swathed about, sat with an expressionless face and watched the progress of that burning. Gigantic behind them, athwart the carrier lay the captured aeropile.
"I can't see him now," said the second man in a ton of provocation7.
The marksman became foul-mouthed and high-voiced in his earnest endeavour to make things plain And suddenly, interrupting him, came a noisy shouting from the substage.
"What's going on now," he said, and raised himself on one arm to stare at the stairheads in the central groove8 of the stage. A number of blue figures were coming up these, and swarming9 across the stage to the aeropile.
"We don't want all these fools," said his friend. "They only crowd up and spoil shots. What are they after?"
"Ssh!--they're shouting something."
The two men listened. The swarming new-comers had crowded densely11 about the aeropile. Three Ward5 Leaders, conspicuous13 by their black mantles14 and badges, clambered into the body and appeared above it. The rank and file flung themselves upon the vans, gripping hold of the edges, until the entire outline of the thing was manned, in some places three deep. One of the marksmen knelt up. "They're putting it on the carrier--that's what they're after."
He rose to his feet, his friend rose also. "What's the good?" said his friend. "We've got no aeronauts."
"That's what they're doing anyhow." He looked at his rifle, looked at the struggling crowd, and suddenly turning to the wounded man. "Mind these, mate," he said, handing his carbine and cartridge15 belt; and in a moment he was running towards the aeropile. For a quarter of an hour he was a perspiring16 Titan, lugging17, thrusting, shouting and heeding18 shouts, and then the thing was done, and he stood with a multitude of others cheering their own achievement. By this time he knew, what indeed everyone in the city knew, that the Master, raw learner though he was, intended to fly this machine himself, was coming even now to take control of it, would let no other man attempt it. "He who takes the greatest danger, he who bears the heaviest burden, that man is King," so the Master was reported to have spoken. And even as this man cheered, and while the beads19 of sweat still chased one another from the disorder20 of his hair, he heard the thunder of a greater tumult21, and in fitful snatches the beat and impulse of the revolutionary song. He saw through a gap in the people that a thick stream of heads still poured up the stairway. "The Master is coming," shouted voices, "the Master is coming," and the crowd about him grew denser22 and denser. He began to thrust himself towards the central groove. "The Master is coming!" "The Sleeper23, the Master!" "God and the Master!" roared the Voices.
And suddenly quite close to him were the black uniforms of the revolutionary guard, and for the first and last time in his life he saw Graham, saw him quite nearly. A tall, dark man in a flowing black robe, with a white, resolute24 face and eyes fixed25 steadfastly26 before him; a man who for all the little things about him held neither ears nor eyes nor thoughts.... For all his days that man remembered the passing of Graham's bloodless face. In a moment it had gone and he was fighting in the swaying crowd. A lad weeping with terror thrust against him, pressing towards the stairways, yelling "Clear for the aeropile!" The bell that clears the flying stage became a loud unmelodious clanging.
With that clanging in his ears Graham drew near the aeropile, marched into the shadow of its tilting27 wing. He became aware that a number of people about him were offering to accompany him, and waved their offers aside. He wanted to think how one started the engine. The bell clanged faster and faster, and the feet of the retreating people roared faster and louder. The man in yellow was assisting him to mount through the ribs28 of the body. He clambered into the aeronaut's place, fixing himself very carefully and deliberately29. What was it? The man in yellow was pointing to two aeropiles driving upward in the southern sky. No doubt they were looking for the coming aeroplanes. That--presently--the thing to do now was to start. Things were being shouted at him, questions, warnings. They bothered him. He wanted to think about the aeropile, to recall every item of his previous experience. He waved the people from him, saw the man in yellow dropping off through the ribs, saw the crowd cleft30 down the line of the girders by his gesture.
For a moment he was motionless, staring at the levers, the wheel by which the engine shifted, and all the delicate appliances of which he knew so little. His eye caught a spirit level with the bubble towards him, and he remembered something, spent a dozen seconds in swinging the engine forward until the bubble floated in the centre of the tube. He noted31 that the people were not shouting, knew they watched his deliberation. A bullet smashed on the bar above his head. Who fired? Was the line clear of people? He stood up to see and sat down again.
In another second the propeller32 was spinning, and he was rushing down the guides. He gripped the wheel and swung the engine back to lift the stem. Then it was the people shouted. In a moment he was throbbing34 with the quiver of the engine, and the shouts dwindled swiftly behind, rushed down to silence. The wind whistled over the edges of the screen, and the world sank away from him very swiftly.
Throb33, throb, throb--throb, throb, throb; up he drove. He fancied himself free of all excitement, felt cool and deliberate. He lifted the stem still more, opened one valve on his left wing and swept round and up. He looked down with a steady head, and up. One of the Ostrogite aeropiles was driving across his course, so that he drove obliquely35 towards it and would pass below it at a steep angle. Its little aeronauts were peering down at him. What did they mean to do? His mind became active. One, he saw held a weapon pointing, seemed prepared to fire. What did they think he meant to do? In a moment he understood their tactics, and his resolution was taken. His momentary36 lethargy was past. He opened two more valves to his left, swung round, end on to this hostile machine, closed his valves, and shot straight at it, stem and wind-screen shielding him from the shot. They tilted37 a little as if to clear him. He flung up his stem.
Throb, throb, throb--pause--throb, throb--he set his teeth, his face into an involuntary grimace38, and crash! He struck it! He struck upward beneath the nearer wing.
Very slowly the wing of his antagonist40 seemed to broaden as the impetus41 of his blow turned it up. He saw the full breadth of it and then it slid downward out of his sight.
He felt his stem going down, his hands tightened42 on the levers, whirled and rammed43 the engine back. He felt the jerk of a clearance44, the nose of the machine jerked upward steeply, and for a moment he seemed to be lying on his back. The machine was reeling and staggering, it seemed to be dancing on its screw. He made a huge effort, hung for a moment on the levers, and slowly the engine came forward again. He was driving upward but no longer so steeply. He gasped45 for a moment and flung himself at the levers again. The wind whistled about him. One further effort and he was almost level. He could breathe. He turned his head for the first time to see what had become of his antagonists46. Turned back to the levers for a moment and looked again. For a moment he could have believed they were annihilated47. And then he saw between the two stages to the east was a chasm48, and down this something, a slender edge, fell swiftly and vanished, as a sixpence falls down a crack.
At first he did not understand, and then a wild joy possessed49 him. He shouted at the top of his voice, an inarticulate shout, and drove higher and higher up the sky. Throb, throb, throb, pause, throb, throb, throb. "Where was the other aeropile?" he thought. "They too--." As he looked round the empty heavens he had a momentary fear that this machine had risen above him, and then he saw it alighting on the Norwood stage. They had meant shooting. To risk being rammed headlong two thousand feet in the air was beyond their latter-day courage. The combat was declined.
For a little while he circled, then swooped51 in a steep descent towards the westward52 stage. Throb throb throb, throb throb throb. The twilight53 was creeping on apace, the smoke from the Streatham stage that had been so dense12 and dark, was now a pillar of fire, and all the laced curves of the moving ways and the translucent54 roofs and domes55 and the chasms56 between the buildings were glowing softly now, lit by the tempered radiance of the electric light that the glare of the way overpowered. The three efficient stages that the Ostrogites held--for Wimbledon Park was useless because of the fire from Roehampton, and Streatham was a furnace--were glowing with guide lights for the coming aeroplanes. As he swept over the Roehampton stage he saw the dark masses of the people thereon. He heard a clap of frantic57 cheering, heard a bullet from the Wimbledon Park stage tweet through the air, and went beating up above the Surrey wastes. He felt a breath of wind from the south-west, and lifted his westward wing as he had learnt to do, and so drove upward heeling into the rare swift upper air. Throb throb throb--throb throb throb.
Up he drove and up, to that pulsating58 rhythm, until the country beneath was blue and indistinct, and London spread like a little map traced in light, like the mere59 model of a city near the brim of the horizon. The south-west was a sky of sapphire60 over the shadowy rim39 of the world, and ever as he drove upward the multitude of stars increased.
And behold61! In the southward, low down and glittering swiftly nearer, were two little patches of nebulous light. And then two more, and then a nebulous glow of swiftly driving shapes. Presently he could count them. There were four and twenty. The first fleet of aeroplanes had come! Beyond appeared a yet greater glow.
He swept round in a half circle, staring at this advancing fleet. It flew in a wedge-like shape, a triangular62 flight of gigantic phosphorescent shapes sweeping63 nearer through the lower air. He made a swift calculation of their pace, and spun64 the little wheel that brought the engine forward. He touched a lever and the throbbing effort of the engine ceased. He began to fall, fell swifter and swifter. He aimed at the apex65 of the wedge. He dropped like a stone through the whistling air. It seemed scarce a second from that soaring moment before he struck the foremost aeroplane.
No man of all that black multitude saw the coming of his fate, no man among them dreamt of the hawk66 that struck downward upon him out of the sky. Those who were not limp in the agonies of air-sickness, were craning their black necks and staring to see the filmy city that was rising out of the haze67, the rich and splendid city to which "Massa Boss" had brought their obedient muscles. Bright teeth gleamed and the glossy68 faces shone. They had heard of Paris. They knew they were to have lordly times among the "poor white" trash. And suddenly Graham struck them.
He had aimed at the body of the aeroplane, but at the very last instant a better idea had flashed into his mind. He twisted about and struck near the edge of the starboard wing with all his accumulated weight. He was jerked back as he struck. His prow69 went gliding70 across its smooth expanse towards the rim. He felt the forward rush of the huge fabric71 sweeping him and his aeropile along with it, and for a moment that seemed an age he could not tell what was happening. He heard a thousand throats yelling, and perceived that his machine was balanced on the edge of the gigantic float, and driving down, down; glanced over his shoulder and saw the backbone72 of the aeroplane and the opposite float swaying up. He had a vision through the ribs of sliding chairs, staring faces, and hands clutching at the tilting guide bars. The fenestrations in the further float flashed open as the aeronaut tried to right her. Beyond, he saw a second aeroplane leaping steeply to escape the whirl of its heeling fellow. The broad area of swaying wings seemed to jerk upward. He felt his aeropile had dropped clear, that the monstrous73 fabric, clean overturned, hung like a sloping wall above him.
He did not clearly understand that he had struck the side float of the aeroplane and slipped off, but he perceived that he was flying free on the down glide74 and rapidly nearing earth. What had he done? His heart throbbed75 like a noisy engine in his throat and for a perilous76 instant he could not move his levers because of the paralysis77 of his hands. He wrenched78 the levers to throw his engine back, fought for two seconds against the weight of it, felt himself righting driving horizontally, set the engine beating again.
He looked upward and saw two aeroplanes glide shouting far overhead, looked back, and saw the main body of the fleet opening out and rushing upward and outward; saw the one he had struck fall edgewise on and strike like a gigantic knife-blade along the wind-wheels below it.
He put down his stern and looked again. He drove up heedless of his direction as he watched. He saw the wind-vanes give, saw the huge fabric strike the earth, saw its downward vans crumple79 with the weight of its descent, and then the whole mass turned over and smashed, upside down, upon the sloping wheels. Throb, throb, throb, pause. Suddenly from the heaving wreckage80 a thin tongue of white fire licked up towards the zenith. And then he was aware of a huge mass flying through the air towards him, and turned upwards81 just in time to escape the charge--if it was a charge--of a second aeroplane. It whirled by below, sucked him down a fathom82, and nearly turned him over in the gust83 of its close passage.
He became aware of three others rushing towards him, aware of the urgent necessity of beating above them. Aeroplanes were all about him, circling wildly to avoid him, as it seemed. They drove past him, above, below, eastward84 and westward. Far away to the westward was the sound of a collision, and two falling flares85. Far away to the southward a second squadron was coming. Steadily86 he beat upward. Presently all the aeroplanes were below him, but for a moment he doubted the height he had of them, and did not swoop50 again. And then he came down upon a second victim and all its load of soldiers saw him coming. The big machine heeled and swayed as the fear maddened men scrambled87 to the stern for their weapons. A score of bullets sung through the air, and there flashed a star in the thick glass wind-screen that protected him. The aeroplane slowed and dropped to foil his stroke, and dropped too low. Just in time he saw the wind-wheels of Bromley hill rushing up towards him, and spun about and up as the aeroplane he had chased crashed among them. All its voices wove into a felt of yelling. The great fabric seemed to be standing88 on end for a second among the heeling and splintering vans, and then it flew to pieces. Huge splinters came flying through the air, its engines burst like shells. A hot rush of flame shot overhead into the darkling sky.
"_Two!_" he cried, with a bomb from overhead bursting as it fell, and forthwith he was beating up again. A glorious exhilaration possessed him now, a giant activity. His troubles about humanity, about his inadequacy89, were gone for ever. He was a man in battle rejoicing in his power. Aeroplanes seemed radiating from him in every direction, intent only upon avoiding him, the yelling of their packed passengers came in short gusts90 as they swept by. He chose his third quarry91, struck hastily and did but turn it on edge. It escaped him, to smash against the tall cliff of London wall. Flying from that impact he skimmed the darkling ground so nearly he could see a frightened rabbit bolting up a slope. He jerked up steeply, and found himself driving over south London with the air about him vacant. To the right of him a wild riot of signal rockets from the Ostrogites banged tumultuously in the sky. To the south the wreckage of half a dozen air ships flamed, and east and west and north the air ships fled before him. They drove away to the east and north, and went about in the south, for they could not pause in the air. In their present confusion any attempt at evolution would have meant disastrous92 collisions. He could scarcely realize the thing he had done. In every quarter aeroplanes were receding93. They were receding. They dwindled smaller and smaller. They were in flight!
He passed two hundred feet or so above the Roehampton stage. It was black with people and noisy with their frantic shouting. But why was the Wimbledon Park stage black and cheering, too? The smoke and flame of Streatham now hid the three further stages. He curved about and rose to see them and the northern quarters. First came the square masses of Shooter's Hill into sight from behind the smoke, lit and orderly with the aeroplane that had landed and its disembarking negroes. Then came Blackheath, and then under the corner of the reek94 the Norwood stage. On Blackheath no aeroplane had landed but an aeropile lay upon the guides. Norwood was covered by a swarm10 of little figures running to and fro in a passionate95 confusion. Why? Abruptly96 he understood. The stubborn defence of the flying stages was over, the people were pouring into the under-ways of these last strongholds of Ostrog's usurpation97. And then, from far away on the northern border of the city, full of glorious import to him, came a sound, a signal, a note of triumph, the leaden thud of a gun. His lips fell apart, his face was disturbed with emotion.
He drew an immense breath. "They win," he shouted to the empty air; "the people win!" The sound of a second gun came like an answer. And then he saw the aeropile on Blackheath was running down its guides to launch. It lifted clean and rose. It shot up into the air, driving straight southward and away from him.
In an instant it came to him what this meant. It must needs be Ostrog in flight. He shouted and dropped towards it. He had the momentum98 of his elevation99 and fell slanting100 down the air and very swiftly. It rose steeply at his approach. He allowed for its velocity101 and drove straight upon it.
It suddenly became a mere flat edge, and behold! he was past it, and driving headlong down with all the force of his futile102 blow.
He was furiously angry. He reeled the engine back along its shaft103 and went circling up. He saw Ostrog's machine beating up a spiral before him. He rose straight towards it, won above it by virtue104 of the impetus of his swoop and by the advantage and weight of a man. He dropped headlong--dropped and missed again! As he rushed past he saw the face of Ostrog's aeronaut confident and cool and in Ostrog's attitude a wincing105 resolution. Ostrog was looking steadfastly away from him--to the south. He realized with a gleam of wrath106 how bungling107 his flight must be. Below he saw the Croyden hills. He jerked upward and once more he gained on his enemy.
He glanced over his shoulder and his attention was arrested by a strange thing. The eastward stage, the one on Shooter's Hill, appeared to lift; a flash changing to a tall grey shape, a cowled figure of smoke and dust, jerked into the air. For a moment this cowled figure stood motionless, dropping huge masses of metal from its shoulders, and then it began to uncoil a dense head of smoke. The people had blown it up, aeroplane and all! As suddenly a second flash and grey shape sprang up from the Norwood stage. And even as he stared at this came a dead report, and the air wave of the first explosion struck him. He was flung up and sideways.
For a moment the aeropile fell nearly edgewise with her nose down, and seemed to hesitate whether to overset altogether. He stood on his wind-shield wrenching108 the wheel that swayed up over his head. And then the shock of the second explosion took his machine sideways.
He found himself clinging to one of the ribs of his machine, and the air was blowing past him and upward. He seemed to be hanging quite still in the air, with the wind blowing up past him. It occurred to him that he was falling. Then he was sure that he was falling. He could not look down.
He found himself recapitulating109 with incredible swiftness all that had happened since his awakening110, the days of doubt the days of Empire, and at last the tumultuous discovery of Ostrog's calculated treachery, he was beaten but London was saved. London was saved!
The thought had a quality of utter unreality. Who was he? Why was he holding so tightly with his hands? Why could he not leave go? In such a fall as this countless111 dreams have ended. But in a moment he would wake....
His thoughts ran swifter and swifter. He wondered if he should see Helen again. It seemed so unreasonable112 that he should not see her again. It _must_ be a dream! Yet surely he would meet her. She at least was real. She was real. He would wake and meet her.
Although he could not look at it, he was suddenly aware that the earth was very near.
The End
收听单词发音 |
1
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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mantles
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| vt.&vi.覆盖（mantle的第三人称单数形式） | |
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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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lugging
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| 超载运转能力 | |
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heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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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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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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tilting
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| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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propeller
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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40
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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41
impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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42
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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43
rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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44
clearance
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| n.净空；许可(证)；清算；清除，清理 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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46
antagonists
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| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
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annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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50
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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pulsating
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| adj.搏动的，脉冲的v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的现在分词 )；跳动；脉动；受（激情）震动 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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60
sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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61
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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apex
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| n.顶点，最高点 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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79
crumple
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| v.把...弄皱，满是皱痕，压碎，崩溃 | |
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wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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84
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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flares
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| 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 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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91
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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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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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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94
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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95
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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96
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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97
usurpation
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| n.篡位；霸占 | |
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98
momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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99
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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100
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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101
velocity
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| n.速度，速率 | |
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102
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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103
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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104
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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105
wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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106
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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107
bungling
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| adj.笨拙的，粗劣的v.搞糟，完不成( bungle的现在分词 )；笨手笨脚地做；失败；完不成 | |
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108
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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109
recapitulating
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| v.总结，扼要重述( recapitulate的现在分词 ) | |
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110
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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111
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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112
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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