Having infused by persistent1 importunities some sort of heat into the chilly2 interest of several licensed3 victuallers (the acquaintances once upon a time of her late unlucky husband), Mrs Verloc's mother had at last secured her admission to certain almshouses founded by a wealthy innkeeper for the destitute4 widows of the trade.
This end, conceived in the astuteness6 of her uneasy heart, the old woman had pursued with secrecy7 and determination. That was the time when her daughter Winnie could not help passing a remark to Mr Verloc that mother has been spending half-crowns and five shillings almost every day this last week in cab fares'. But the remark was not made grudgingly8. Winnie respected her mother's infirmities. She was only a little surprised at this sudden mania9 for locomotion10. Mr Verloc, who was sufficiently11 magnificent in his way, had grunted12 the remark impatiently aside as interfering13 with his meditations15. These were frequent, deep, and prolonged; they bore upon a matter more important than five shillings. Distinctly more important, and beyond all comparison more difficult to consider in all its aspects with philosophical16 serenity17. Her object attained18 in astute5 secrecy, the heroic old woman had made a clean breast of it to Mrs Verloc. Her soul was triumphant19 and her heart tremulous. Inwardly, she quaked, because she dreaded20 and admired the calm, self-contained character of her daughter Winnie, whose displeasure was made redoubtable22 by a diversity of dreadful silences. But she did not allow her inward apprehensions23 to rob her of the advantage of venerable placidity24 conferred upon her outward person by her triple chin, the floating ampleness of her ancient form, and the impotent condition of her legs.
The shock of the information was so unexpected that Mrs Verloc, against her usual practice when addressed, interrupted the domestic occupation she was engaged upon. It was the dusting of the furniture in the parlour behind the shop. She turned her head towards her mother.
`Whatever did you want to do that for?' she exclaimed, in scandalized astonishment27.
The shock must have been severe to make her depart from that distant and uninquiring acceptance of facts which was her force and her safeguard in life.
`Weren't you made comfortable enough here?'
She had lapsed28 into these inquiries29, but next moment she saved the consistency30 of her conduct by resuming her dusting, while the old woman sat scared and dumb under her dingy31 white cap and lustreless32 dark wig33.
Winnie finished the chair, and ran the duster along the mahogany at the back of the horsehair sofa on which Mr Verloc loved to take his ease in hat and overcoat. She was intent on her work, but presently she permitted herself another question.
`How in the world did you manage it, mother?'
As not affecting the inwardness of things, which it was Mrs Verloc's principle to ignore, this curiosity was excusable. It bore merely on the methods. The old woman welcomed it eagerly as bringing forward something that could be talked about with much sincerity35.
She favoured her daughter by an exhaustive answer full of names and enriched by side-comments upon the ravages36 of time as observed in the alteration37 of human countenances39. The names were principally the names of licensed victuallers - `poor daddy's friends, my dear'. She enlarged with special appreciation40 on the kindness and condescension41 of a large brewer42, a Baronet and an M.P., the Chairman of the Governors of the Charity. She expressed herself thus warmly because she had been allowed to interview by appointment his Private Secretary - `a very polite gentleman, all in black, with a gentle, sad voice, but so very, very thin and quiet. He was like a shadow, my dear.'
Winnie, prolonging her dusting operations till the tale was told to the end, walked out of the parlour into the kitchen (down two steps) in her usual manner, without the slightest comment.
Shedding a few tears in sign of rejoicing at her daughter's mansuetude in this terrible affair, Mrs Verloc's mother gave play to her astuteness in the direction of her furniture, because it was her own; and sometimes she wished it hadn't been. Heroism45 is all very well, but there are circumstances when the disposal of a few tables and chairs, brass46 bedsteads, and so on, may be big with remote and disastrous47 consequences. She required a few pieces herself, the Foundation which, after many importunities, had gathered her to its charitable breast, giving nothing but bare planks49 and cheaply papered bricks to the objects of its solicitude51. The delicacy52 guiding her choice to the least valuable and most dilapidated articles passed unacknowledged, because Winnie's philosophy consisted in not taking notice of the inside of facts; she assumed that mother took what suited her best. As to Mr Verloc, his intense meditation14, like a sort of Chinese wall, isolated53 him completely from the phenomena54 of this world of vain effort and illusory appearances.
Her selection made, the disposal of the rest became a perplexing question in a particular way. She was leaving it in Brett Street, of course. But she had two children. Winnie was provided for by her sensible union with that excellent husband, Mr Verloc. Stevie was destitute - and a little peculiar55. His position had to be considered before the claims of legal justice and even the promptings of partiality. The possession of the furniture would not be in any sense a provision. He ought to have it - the poor boy. But to give if to him would be like tampering56 with his position of complete dependence57. It was a sort of claim which she feared to weaken. Moreover, the susceptibilities of Mr Verloc would perhaps not brook58 being beholden to his brother-in- law for the chairs he sat on. In a long experience of gentlemen lodgers59, Mrs Verloc's mother had acquired a dismal60 but resigned notion of the fantastic side of human nature. What if Mr Verloc suddenly took it into his head to tell Stevie to take his blessed sticks somewhere out of that? A division, on the other hand, however carefully made, might give some cause of offence to Winnie. No. Stevie must remain destitute and dependent. And at the moment of leaving Brett Street she had said to her daughter: `No use waiting till I am dead, is there? Everything I leave here is altogether your own now, my dear.'
Winnie, with her hat on, silent behind her mother's back, went on arranging the collar of the old woman's cloak. She got her handbag, an umbrella, with an impassive face. The time had come for the expenditure61 of the sum of three and sixpence on what might well be supposed the last cab-drive of Mrs Verloc's mother's life. They went out at the shop door.
The conveyance62 awaiting them would have illustrated63 the proverb that `truth can be more cruel than caricature', if such a proverb existed. Crawling behind an infirm horse, a metropolitan64 hackney drew up on wobbly wheels and with a maimed driver on the box. This last peculiarity65 caused some embarrassment66. Catching67 sight of a hooked iron contrivance protruding68 from the left sleeve of the man's coat, Mrs Verloc's mother lost suddenly the heroic courage of these days. She really couldn't trust herself. `What do you think, Winnie?' She hung back. The passionate69 expostulations of the big-faced cabman seemed to be squeezed out of a blocked throat. Leaning over from his box, he whispered with mysterious indignation. What was the matter now? Was it possible to treat a man so? His enormous and unwashed countenance38 flamed red in the muddy stretch of the street. Was it likely they would have given him a licence, he inquired desperately70, if--The police constable71 of the locality quieted him by a friendly glance; then addressing himself to the two women without marked consideration, said: `He's been driving a cab for twenty years. I never knew him to have an accident.'
`Accident!' shouted the driver in a scornful whisper.
The policeman's testimony72 settled it. The modest assemblage of seven people, mostly under age, dispersed73. Winnie followed her mother into the cab. Stevie climbed on the box. His vacant mouth and distressed74 eyes depicted76 the state of his mind in regard to the transactions which were taking place. In the narrow streets the progress of the journey was made sensible to those within by the near fronts of the houses gliding77 past slowly and shakily, with a great rattle78 and jingling79 of glass, as if about to collapse80 behind the cab; and the infirm horse, with the harness hung over his sharp backbone81 flapping very loose about his thighs82, appearing to be dancing mincingly83 on his toes with infinite patience. Later on, in the wider space of Whitehall, all visual evidences of motion became imperceptible. The rattle and jingle84 of glass went on indefinitely in front of the long Treasury85 building - and time itself seemed to stand still.
At last Winnie observed: `This isn't a very good horse.'
Her eyes gleamed in the shadow of the cab straight ahead, immovable. On the box, Stevie shut his vacant mouth first, in order to ejaculate earnestly: `Don't.'
The driver, holding high the reins86 twisted around the hook, took no notice. Perhaps he had not heard. Stevie's breast heaved.
`Don't whip.'
The man turned slowly his bloated and sodden87 face of many colours bristling88 with white hairs. His little red eyes glistened89 with moisture. His big lips had a violet tint90. They remained closed. With the dirty back of his whip-hand he rubbed the stubble sprouting91 on his enormous chin.
`You mustn't,' stammered92 out Stevie, violently, `it hurts.'
`Mustn't whip,' queried94 the other in a thoughtful whisper, and immediately whipped. He did this, not because his soul was cruel and his heart evil, but because he had to earn his fare. And for a time the walls of St Stephen's, with its towers and pinnacles95, contemplated96 in immobility and silence a cab that jingled97. It rolled, too, however. But on the bridge there was a commotion98. Stevie suddenly proceeded to get down from the box. There were shouts on the pavement, people ran forward, the driver pulled up, whispering curses of indignation and astonishment. Winnie lowered the window, and put her head out, white as a ghost. In the depths of the cab, her mother was exclaiming, in tones of anguish99: `Is that boy hurt? Is that boy hurt?' Stevie was not hurt, he had not even fallen, but excitement as usual had robbed him of the power of connected speech. He could do no more than stammer93 at the window: `Too heavy. Too heavy.' Winnie put out her hand on to his shoulder.
`Stevie! Get up on the box directly, and don't try to get down again.'
`No. No. Walk. Must walk.'
In trying to state the nature of that necessity he stammered himself into utter incoherence. No physical impossibility stood in the way of his whim100. Stevie could have managed easily to keep pace with the infirm, dancing horse without getting out of breath. But his sister withheld101 her consent decisively. `The idea! Whoever heard of such a thing! Run after a cab!' Her mother, frightened and helpless in the depth of the conveyance, entreated102: `Oh, don't let him, Winnie. He'll get lost. Don't let him.'
`Certainly not. What next! Mr Verloc will be sorry to hear of this nonsense, Stevie - I can tell you. He won't be happy at all.'
The idea of Mr Verloc's grief and unhappiness acting103 as usual powerfully upon Stevie's fundamentally docile104 disposition105, he abandoned all resistance and climbed up again on the box, with a face of despair.
The cabby turned at him his enormous and inflamed106 countenance truculently107. `Don't you go for trying this silly game again, young fellow.'
After delivering himself thus in a stern whisper, strained almost to extinction108, he drove on, ruminating109 solemnly. To his mind the incident remained somewhat obscure. But his intellect, though it had lost its pristine110 vivacity111 in the benumbing years of sedentary exposure to the weather, lacked not independence or sanity112. Gravely he dismissed the hypothesis of Stevie being a drunken young nipper.
Inside the cab the spell of silence, in which the two women had endured shoulder to shoulder the jolting114, rattling115, and jingling of the journey, had been broken by Stevie's outbreak. Winnie raised her voice.
`You've done what you wanted, mother. You have only yourself to thank for it if you aren't happy afterwards. And I don't think you'll be. That I don't. Weren't you comfortable enough in the house? Whatever people'll think of us - you throwing yourself like this on a Charity?'
`My dear,' screamed the old woman earnestly above the noise, `you've been the best of daughters to me. As to Mr Verloc - there--Words failing her on the subject of Mr Verloc's excellence116, she turned her old tearful eyes to the roof of the cab. Then she averted117 her head on the pretence118 of looking out of the window, as if to judge of their progress. It was insignificant119, and went on close to the kerbstone. Night, the early dirty night, the sinister120, noisy, hopeless, and rowdy night of South London, had overtaken her on her last cab drive. In the gas-light of the low-fronted shops her big cheeks glowed with an orange hue121 under a black and mauve bonnet122.
Mrs Verloc's mother's complexion123 had become yellow by the effect of age and from a natural predisposition to biliousness124, favoured by the trials of a difficult and worried existence, first as wife, then as widow. It was a complexion that under the influence of a blush would take on an orange tint. And this woman, modest indeed but hardened in the fires of adversity, of an age, moreover, when blushes are not expected, had positively125 blushed before her daughter. In the privacy of a four-wheeler, on her way to a charity cottage (one of a row) which by the exiguity126 of its dimensions and the simplicity127 of its accommodation, might well have been devised in kindness as a place of training for the still more straitened circumstances of the grave, she was forced to hide from her own child a blush of remorse128 and shame.
Whatever people will think? She knew very well what they did think, the people Winnie had in her mind - the old friends of her husband, and others too, whose interest she had solicited with such flattering success. She had not known before what a good beggar she could be. But she guessed very well what inference was drawn129 from her application. On account of that shrinking delicacy, which exists side by side with aggressive brutality130 in masculine nature, the inquiries into her circumstances had not been pushed very far. She had checked them by a visible compression of the lips and some display of an emotion determined131 to be eloquently132 silent. And the men would become suddenly incurious, after the manner of their kind. She congratulated herself more than once on having nothing to do with women, who being naturally more callous133 and avid134 of details, would have been anxious to be exactly informed by what sort of unkind conduct her daughter and son-in-law had driven her to that sad extremity135. It was only before the Secretary of the great brewer M.P. and Chairman of the Charity, who, acting for his principal, felt bound to be conscientiously136 inquisitive137 as to the real circumstances of the applicant138, that she had burst into tears outright139 and aloud, as a cornered woman will weep. The thin and polite gentleman, after contemplating140 her with an air of being `struck all of a heap', abandoned his position under the cover of soothing141 remarks. She must not distress75 herself. The deed of the Charity did not absolutely specify142 `childless widows'. In fact, it did not by any means disqualify her. But the discretion143 of the Committee must be an informed discretion. One could understand very well her unwillingness144 to be a burden, etc., etc. Thereupon, to his profound disappointment, Mrs Verloc's mother wept some more with an augmented145 vehemence146.
The tears of that large female in a dark, dusty wig, and ancient silk dress festooned with dingy white cotton lace, were the tears of genuine distress. She had wept because she was heroic and unscrupulous and full of love for both her children. Girls frequently get sacrificed to the welfare of the boys. In this case she was sacrificing Winnie. By the suppression of truth she was slandering147 her. Of course, Winnie was independent, and need not care for the opinion of people that she would never see and who would never see her; whereas poor Stevie had nothing in the world he could call his own except his mother's heroism and unscrupulousness.
The first sense of security following on Winnie's marriage wore off in time (for nothing lasts), and Mrs Verloc's mother, in the seclusion148 of the back bedroom, had recalled the teaching of that experience which the world impresses upon a widowed woman. But she had recalled it without vain bitterness; her store of resignation amounted almost to dignity. She reflected stoically that everything decays, wears out, in this world; chat the way of kindness should be made easy to the well disposed; that her daughter Winnie was a most devoted149 sister, and a very self-confident wife indeed. As regards Winnie's sisterly devotion, her stoicism flinched150. She excepted that sentiment from the rule of decay affecting all things human and some things divine. She could not help it; not to do so would have frightened her too much. But in considering the conditions of her daughter's married state, she rejected firmly all flattering illusions. She took the cold and reasonable view that the less strain put on Mr Verloc's kindness the longer its effects were likely' to last. That excellent man loved his wife, of course, but he would, no doubt, prefer to keep as few of her relations as was consistent with the proper display of that sentiment. It would be better if its whole effect were concentrated on poor Stevie. And the heroic old woman resolved on going away from her children as an act of devotion and as a move of deep policy.
The `virtue' of this policy consisted in this (Mrs Verloc's mother was subtle in her way), that Stevie's moral claim would be strengthened. The poor boy - a good, useful boy, if a little peculiar - had not a sufficient standing151. He had been taken over with his mother, somewhat in the same way as the furniture of the Belgravian mansion152 had been taken over, as if on the ground of belonging to her exclusively. What will happen, she asked herself (for Mrs Verloc's mother was in a measure imaginative), when I die? And when she asked herself that question it was with dread21. It was also terrible to think that she would not then have the means of knowing what happened to the poor boy. But by making him over to his sister, by going thus away, she gave him the advantage of a directly dependent position. This was the more subtle sanction of Mrs Verloc's mother's heroism and unscrupulousness. Her act of abandonment was really an arrangement for settling her son permanently153 in life. Other people made material sacrifices for such an object, she in that way. It was the only way. Moreover, she would be able to see how it worked. Ill or well she would avoid the horrible incertitude154 on the death-bed. But it was hard, hard, cruelly hard.
The cab rattled155, jingled, jolted156; in fact, the last was quite extraordinary. By its disproportionate violence and magnitude it obliterated157 every sensation of onward158 movement; and the effect was of being shaken in a stationary159 apparatus160 like a medieval device for the punishment of crime, or some very new-fangled invention for the cure of a sluggish161 liver. It was extremely distressing162; and the raising of Mrs Verloc's mother's voice sounded like a wail163 of pain.
`I know, my dear, you'll come to see me as often as you can spare the time. Won't you?'
`Of course,' answered Winnie, shortly, staring straight before her. And the cab jolted in front of a steamy, greasy164 shop in a blaze of gas and in the smell of fried fish.
The old woman raised a wail again.
`And, my dear, I must see that poor boy every Sunday. He won't mind spending the day with his old mother--'
Winnie screamed out stolidly165:
`Mind! I should think not. That poor boy will miss you something cruel. I wish you had thought a little of that, mother.'
Not think of it! The heroic woman swallowed a playful and inconvenient166 object like a billiard ball, which had tried to jump out of her throat. Winnie sat mute for a while, pouting167 at the front of the cab, then snapped out, which was an unusual tone with her:
`I expect I'll have a job with him at first, he'll be that restless--'
`Whatever you do, don't let him worry your husband, my dear.'
Thus they discussed on familiar lines the bearings of a new situation. And the cab jolted. Mrs Verloc's mother expressed some misgivings168. Could Stevie be trusted to come all that way alone? Winnie maintained that he was much less `absent-minded' now. They agreed as to that. It could not be denied. Much less - hardly at all. They shouted at each other in the jingle with comparative cheerfulness. But suddenly the maternal169 anxiety broke out afresh. There were two omnibuses to take, and a short walk between. It was too difficult! The old woman' gave way to grief and consternation170.
Winnie stared forward.
`Don't you upset yourself like this, mother. You must see him, of course.
`No, my dear. I'll try not to. She mopped her streaming eyes.'
`But you can't spare the time to come with him, and if he should forget himself and lose his way and somebody spoke171 to him sharply, his name and address may slip his memory, and he'll remain lost for days and days--'
The vision of a workhouse infirmary for poor Stevie - if only during inquiries - wrung172 her heart. For she was a proud woman. Winnie's stare had grown hard, intent, inventive.
`I can't bring him to you myself every week,' she cried. `But don't you worry, mother. I'll see to it that he don't get lost for long.'
They felt a peculiar bump; a vision of brick pillars lingered before the rattling windows of the cab; a sudden cessation of atrocious jolting and uproarious jingling dazed the two women. What had happened? They sat motionless and scared in the profound stillness, till the door came open, and a rough, strained whispering was heard:
`'Ere you are!'
A range of gabled little houses, each with one dim yellow window, on the ground floor, surrounded the dark open space of a grass plot planted with shrubs174 and railed off from the patchwork175 of lights and shadows it the wide road, resounding176 with the dull rumble177 of traffic. Before the door of one of these tiny houses - one without a light in the little downstairs window - the' cab had come to a standstill. Mrs Verloc's mother got out first, backwards178, with a key in her hand. Winnie lingered on the flagstone path to pay the cabman. Stevie, after helping179 to carry inside a lot of small parcels, came out and stood under the light of a gas-lamp belonging to the Charity. The cabman looked at the pieces of silver, which, appearing very minute in his big, grimy palm, symbolized180 the insignificant results which reward the ambitious courage and toil181 of a mankind whose day is short on this earth of evil.
He had been paid decently - four one-shilling pieces - and he contemplated them in perfect stillness, as if they had been the surprising terms of a melancholy182 problem. The slow transfer of that treasure to an inner pocket demanded much laborious183 groping in the depths of decayed clothing. His form was squat184 and without flexibility185. Stevie, slender, his shoulders a little up, and his hands thrust deep in the side pockets of his warm overcoat, stood at the edge of the path, pouting.
The cabman, pausing in his deliberate movements, seemed struck by some misty186 recollection.
`Oh! 'Ere you are, young fellow,' he whispered. `You'll know him again - wont187 you?'
Stevie was staring at the horse, whose hind26 quarters appeared unduly188 elevated by the effect of emancipation189. The little stiff tail seemed to have been fitted in for a heartless joke; and at the other end the thin, flat neck, like a plank48 covered with old horse-hide, drooped190 to the ground under the weight of an enormous bony head. The ears hung at different angles, negligently; and the macabre192 figure of that mute dweller193 on the earth steamed straight up from ribs194 and backbone in the muggy195 stillness of the air.
The cabman struck lightly Stevie's breast with the iron hook protruding from a ragged196, greasy sleeve.
`Look 'ere young feller. 'Owd you like to sit behind this 'oss up to two o'clock in the morning p'raps?'
Stevie looked vacantly into the fierce little eyes with red-edged lids.
`He ain't lame,' pursued the other, whispering with energy. `He ain't got no sore places on 'im. 'Ere he is. 'Ow would you like--'
His strained, extinct voice invested his utterance197 with a character of vehement198 secrecy. Stevie's vacant gaze was changing slowly into dread.
`You may well look! Till three and four o'clock in the morning. Cold and 'ungry. Looking for fares. Drunks.'
His jovial199 purple cheeks bristled200 with white hairs; and like Virgil's Silenus, who, his face smeared201 with the juice of berries, discoursed202 of Olympian Gods to the innocent shepherds of Sicily, he talked to Stevie of domestic matters and the affairs of men whose sufferings are great and immortality203 by no means assured.
`I am a night cabby, I am,' he whispered, with a sort of boastful exasperation204. `I've got to take out what they will blooming well give me at the yard. I've got my missus and four kids at 'ome.
The monstrous205 nature of that declaration of paternity seemed to strike the world dumb. A silence reigned206, during which the flanks of the old horse, the steed of apocalyptic207 misery208, smoked upwards209 in the light of the charitable gas-lamp.
The cabman grunted, then added in his mysterious whisper: `This ain't an easy world.'
Stevie's face had been twitching210 for some time and at last his feelings burst out in their usual concise211 foam212.
`Bad! Bad!'
His gaze remained fixed213 on the ribs of the horse, self-conscious and sombre, as though he were afraid to look about him at the badness of the world. And his slenderness, his rosy214 lips and pale, clear complexion, gave him the aspect of a delicate boy, notwithstanding the fluffy215 growth of golden hair on his cheeks. He pouted216 in a scared way like a child. The cabman, short and broad, eyed him with his fierce little eyes that seemed to smart in a clear and corroding217 liquid.
`'Ard on 'osses, but dam' sight 'arder on poor chaps like me,' he wheezed218 just audibly.
`Poor! Poor!' stammered out Stevie, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets with convulsive sympathy. He could say nothing; for the tenderness to all pain and all misery, the desire to make the horse happy and the cabman happy, had reached the point of a bizarre longing44 to take them to bed with him. And that, he knew, was impossible. For Stevie was not mad. It was, as it were, a symbolic219 longing; and at the same time it was very distinct, because springing from experience, the mother of wisdom. Thus when as a child he cowered220 in a dark corner scared, wretched, sore, and miserable221 with the black, black misery of the soul, his sister Winnie used to come along and carry him off to bed with her, as into a heaven of consoling peace. Stevie, though apt to forget mere34 facts, such as his name and address for instance, had a faithful memory of sensations. To be taken into a bed of compassion222 was the supreme223 remedy, with the only one disadvantage of being difficult of application on a large scale. And looking at the cabman, Stevie perceived this clearly, because he was reasonable.
The cabman went on with his leisurely224 preparations as if Stevie had not existed. He made as if to hoist225 himself on the box, but at the last moment, from some obscure motive226, perhaps merely from disgust with carriage exercise, desisted. He approached instead the motionless partner of his labours, and stooping to seize the bridle227, lifted up the big, weary head to the height of his shoulder with one effort of his right arm, like a feat228 of strength.
`Come on,' he whispered, secretly.
Limping, he led the cab away. There was an air of austerity in this departure, the scrunched229 gravel113 of the drive crying out under the slowly turning wheels, the horse's lean thighs moving with ascetic230 deliberation away from the light into the obscurity of the open space bordered dimly by the pointed231 roofs and the feebly shining windows of the little almshouses. The plaint of the gravel travelled slowly all round the drive. Between the lamps of the charitable gateway232 the slow cortege reappeared, lighted up for a moment, the short, thick man limping busily, with the horse's head held aloft in his fist, the lank50 animal walking in stiff and forlorn dignity, the dark, low box on wheels rolling behind comically with an air of waddling233. They turned to the left. There was a pub down the street, within fifty yards of the gate.
Stevie, left alone beside the private lamp-post of the Charity, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, glared with vacant sulkiness. At the bottom of his pockets his incapable234, weak hands were clenched235 hard into a pair of angry fists. In the face of anything which affected236 directly or indirectly237 his morbid238 dread of pain, Stevie ended by turning vicious. A magnanimous indignation swelled239 his frail240 chest to bursting, and caused his candid241 eyes to squint242. Supremely243 wise in knowing his own powerlessness, Stevie was not wise enough to restrain his passions. The tenderness of his universal charity had two phases as indissolubly joined and connected as the reverse and obverse sides of a medal. The anguish of immoderate compassion was succeeded by the pain of an innocent but pitiless rage. Those two states expressing themselves outwardly by the same signs of futile244 bodily agitation245, his sister Winnie soothed246 his excitement without ever fathoming247 its twofold character. Mrs Verloc wasted no portion of this transient life in seeking for fundamental information. This is a sort of economy having all the appearances and some of the advantages of prudence248. Obviously it may be good for one not to know too much. And such a view accords very well with constitutional indolence.
On that evening on which it may be said that Mrs Verloc's mother having parted for good from her children had also departed this life, Winnie Verloc did not investigate her brother's psychology249. The poor boy was excited, of course. After once more assuring the old woman on the threshold that she would know how to guard against the risk of Stevie losing himself for very long on his pilgrimages of filial piety250, she took her brother's arm to walk away. Stevie did not even mutter to himself, but with the special sense of sisterly devotion developed in her earliest infancy251, she felt that the boy was very much excited indeed. Holding tight to his arm, under the appearance of leaning on it, she thought of some words suitable to the occasion.
`Now, Stevie, you must look well after me at the crossings, and get first into the bus, like a good brother.'
This appeal to manly252 protection was received by Stevie with his usual docility253. It flattered him. He raised his head and threw out his chest.
`Don't be nervous, Winnie. Mustn't be nervous! Bus all right,' he answered in a brusque, slurring254 stammer partaking of the timorousness255 of a child and the resolution of a man. He advanced fearlessly with the woman on his arm, but his lower lip drooped. Nevertheless, on the pavement of the squalid and wide thoroughfare, whose poverty in all the amenities256 of life stood foolishly exposed by a mad profusion257 of gas-lights, their resemblance to each other was so pronounced as to strike the casual passers-by.
Before the doors of the public-house at the corner, where the profusion of gas-light reached the height of positive wickedness, a four-wheeled cab standing by the kerbstone, with no one on the box, seemed cast out into the gutter258 on account of irremediable decay. Mrs Verloc recognized the conveyance. Its aspect was so profoundly lamentable259, with such a perfection of grotesque260 misery and weirdness261 of macabre detail, as if it were the Cab of Death itself that Mrs Verloc, with that ready compassion of a woman for a horse (when she is not sitting behind him), exclaimed vaguely262!
Hanging back suddenly, Stevie inflicted264 an arresting jerk upon his sister.
`Poor! Poor!' he ejaculated appreciatively. `Cabman poor, too. He told me himself.'
The contemplation of the infirm and lonely steed overcame him. Jostled, but obstinate265, he would remain there, trying to express the view newly opened to his sympathies of the human and equine misery in close association. But it was very difficult. `Poor brute,'poor people!' was all he could repeat. It did not seem forcible enough, and he came to a stop with an angry splutter. `Shame!' Stevie was no master of phrases, and perhaps for that very reason his thoughts lacked clearness and precision. But he felt with great completeness and some profundity266. That little word contained all his sense of indignation and horror at one sort of wretchedness having to feed upon the anguish of the other - as the poor cabman beating the poor horse in the name, as it were, of his poor kids at home. And Stevie knew what it was to be beaten. He knew it from experience. It was a bad world. Bad! Bad!
Mrs Verloc, his only sister, guardian267, and protector, could not pretend to such depths of insight. Moreover, she had not experienced the magic of the cabman's eloquence268. She was in the dark as to the inwardness of the word `Shame'. And she said placidly269:
`Come along, Stevie. You can't help that.'
The docile Stevie went along; but now he went along without pride, shamblingly, and muttering half words, and even words that would have been whole if they had not been made up of halves that did not belong to each other. It was as though he had been trying to fit all the words he could remember to his sentiments in order to get some sort of corresponding idea. And, as a matter of fact, he got it at last. He hung back to utter it at once.
`Bad world for poor people.'
Directly he had expressed that thought he became aware that it was familiar to him already in all its consequences. This circumstance strengthened his conviction immensely, but also augmented his indignation. Somebody, he felt, ought to be punished for it - punished with great severity. Being no sceptic, but a moral creature, he was in a manner at the mercy of his righteous passions.
`Beastly!' he added, concisely270.
It was clear to Mrs Verloc that he was greatly excited.
`Nobody can help that,' she said. `Do come along. Is that the way you're taking care of me?'
Stevie mended his pace obediently. He prided himself on being a good brother. His morality, which was very complete, demanded that from him. Yet he was pained at the information imparted by his sister Winnie - who was good. Nobody could help that! He came along gloomily, but presently he brightened up. Like the rest of mankind, perplexed271 by the mystery of the universe, he had his moments of consoling trust in the organized powers of the earth.
`Police,' he suggested, confidently.
`The police aren't for that,' observed Mrs Verloc, cursorily272, hurrying on her way.
Stevie's face lengthened273 considerably274. He was thinking. The more intense his thinking, the slacker was the droop191 of his lower jaw275. And it was with an aspect of hopeless vacancy276 that he gave up his intellectual enterprise.
`Not for that?' he mumbled277, resigned but surprised. `Not for that?' He had formed for himself an ideal conception for the metropolitan police as a sort of benevolent278 institution for the suppression of evil. The notion of benevolence279 especially was very closely associated with his sense of the power of the men in blue. He had liked all police constables280 tenderly, with a guileless trustfulness. And he was pained. He was irritated, too, by a suspicion of duplicity in the members' of the force. For Stevie was frank and as open as the day himself. What did they mean by pretending then? Unlike his sister, who put her trust in face values, he wished to go to the bottom of the matter. He carried on his inquiry281 by means of an angry challenge.
`What are they for then, Winn? What are they for? Tell me.'
Winnie disliked controversy282. But fearing most a fit of black depression consequent on Stevie missing his mother very much at first, she did not altogether decline the discussion'. Guiltless of all irony283, she answered yet in a form which was not perhaps unnatural284 in the wife of Mr Verloc, Delegate of the Central Red Committee, personal friend of certain anarchists285, and a votary286 of social revolution.
`Don't you know what the police are for, Stevie? They are there so that them as have nothing shouldn't take anything away from them who have.'
She avoided using the verb `to steal', because it always made her brother uncomfortable. For Stevie was delicately honest. Certain simple principles had been instilled287 into him so anxiously (on account of his `queerness') that the mere names of certain transgressions288 filled him with horror. He had been always easily impressed by speeches. He was impressed and startled now, and his intelligence was very alert.
`What?' he asked at once, anxiously. `Not even if they were hungry? Mustn't they?'
The two had paused in their walk.
`Not if they were ever so,' said Mrs Verloc, with the equanimity289 of a person untroubled by the problem of the distribution of wealth and exploring the perspective of the roadway for an omnibus of the right colour. `Certainly not. But what's the use of talking about all that? You aren't ever hungry.
She cast a swift glance at the boy, like a young man, by her side. She saw him amiable290, attractive, affectionate and only a little, a very little peculiar. And she could not see him otherwise, for he was connected with what there was of the salt of passion in her tasteless life - the passion of indignation, of courage, of pity, and even of self-sacrifice. She did not add: `And you aren't likely ever to be as long as I live.' But she might very well have done so, since she had taken effectual steps to that end. Mr Verloc was a very good husband. It was her honest impression that nobody could help liking291 the boy. She cried out suddenly:
`Quick, Stevie. Stop that green bus.'
And Stevie, tremulous and important with his sister Winnie on his arm, flung up the other high above his head at the approaching bus, with complete success.
An hour afterwards Mr Verloc raised his eyes from a newspaper he was reading, or at any rate looking at, behind the counter, and in the expiring clatter292 of the door-bell beheld293 Winnie, his wife, enter and cross the shop on her way upstairs, followed by Stevie, his brother-in-law. The sight of his wife was agreeable to Mr Verloc. It was his idiosyncrasy. The figure of his brother-in-law remained imperceptible to him because of the morose294 thoughtfulness that lately had fallen like a veil between Mr Verloc and the appearances of the world of senses. He looked after his wife fixedly295, without a word, as though she had been a phantom296. His voice for home use was husky and placid25, but now it was heard not at all. It was not heard at supper, to which he was called by his wife in the usual brief manner: `Adolf.' He sat down to consume it without conviction, wearing his hat pushed far back on his head. It was not devotion to an outdoor life, but the frequentation of foreign cafes which was responsible for that habit, investing with a character of unceremonious impermanency Mr Verloc's steady fidelity297 to his own fireside. Twice at the clatter of the cracked bell he arose without a word, disappeared into the shop, and came back silently. During these absences Mrs Verloc, becoming acutely aware of the vacant place at her right hand, missed her mother very much and stared stonily298; while Stevie, from the same reason, kept on shuffling299 his feet, as though the floor under the table were uncomfortably hot. When Mr Verloc returned to sit in his place, like the very embodiment of silence, the character of Mrs Verloc's stare underwent a subtle change, and Stevie ceased to fidget with his feet, because of his great and awed300 regard for his sister's husband. He directed at him glances of respectful compassion. Mr Verloc was sorry. His sister Winnie had impressed upon him (in the omnibus) that Mr Verloc would be found at home in a state of sorrow, and must not be worried. His father's anger, the irritability301 of gentlemen lodgers, and Mr Verloc's predisposition to immoderate grief, had been the main sanctions of Stevie's self-restraint. Of these sentiments, all easily provoked, but not always easy to understand, the last had the greatest moral efficiency - because Mr Verloc was good. His mother and his sister had established that ethical302 fact on an unshakable foundation. They had established, erected, consecrated303 it behind Mr Verloc's back, for reasons that had nothing to do with abstract morality. And Mr Verloc was not aware of it. It is but bare justice to him to say that he had no notion of appearing good to Stevie. Yet so it was. He was even the only man so qualified304 in Stevie's knowledge, because the gentlemen lodgers had been too transient and too remote to have anything very distinct about them but perhaps their boots; and as regards the disciplinary measures of his father, the desolation of his mother and sister shrank from setting up a theory of goodness before the victim. It would have been too cruel. And it was even possible that Stevie would not have believed them. As far as Mr Verloc was concerned, nothing could stand in the way of Stevie's belief. Mr Verloc was obviously yet mysteriously good. And the grief of a good man is august.
Stevie gave glances of reverential compassion to his brother-in-law. Mr Verloc was sorry. The brother of Winnie had never before felt himself in such close communion with the mystery of that man's goodness. It was an understandable sorrow. And Stevie himself was sorry. He was very sorry. The same sort of sorrow. And his attention being drawn to this unpleasant state, Stevie shuffled305 his feet. His feelings were habitually306 manifested by the agitation of his limbs.
`Keep your feet quiet, dear,' said Mrs Verloc, with authority and tenderness; then turning towards her husband in an indifferent voice, the masterly achievement of instinctive307 tact308: `Are you going out tonight?' she asked.
The mere suggestion seemed repugnant to Mr Verloc. He shook his head moodily309, and then sat still with downcast eyes, looking at the piece of cheese on his plate for a whole minute. At the end of that time he got up, and went out - went right out in the clatter of the shop-door bell. He acted thus inconsistently, not from any desire to make himself unpleasant, but because of an unconquerable restlessness. It was no earthly good going out. He could not find anywhere in London what he wanted. But he went out. He led a cortege of dismal thoughts along dark streets, through lighted streets, in and out of two Bash bars, as if in a half-hearted attempt to make a night of it, and finally back again to his menaced home, where he sat down fatigued310 behind the counter, and they crowded urgently round him, like a pack of hungry black hounds. After locking up the house and putting out the gas he took them upstairs with him - a dreadful escort for a man going to bed. His wife had preceded him some time before, and with her ample form defined vaguely under the counterpane, her head on the pillow, and a hand under the cheek, offered to his distraction311 the view of early drowsiness312 arguing the possession of an equable soul. Her big eyes stared wide open, inert313 and dark against the snowy whiteness of the linen314. She did not move.
She had an equable soul. She felt profoundly that things do not stand much looking into. She made her force and her wisdom of that instinct. But the taciturnity of Mr Verloc had been lying heavily upon her for a good many days. It was, as a matter of fact, affecting her nerves. Recumbent and motionless, she said placidly:
`You'll catch cold walking about in your socks like this.'
This speech, becoming the solicitude of the wife and the prudence of the woman, took Mr Verloc unawares. He had left his boots downstairs, but he had forgotten to put on his slippers, and he had been turning about the bedroom on noiseless pads like a bear in a cage. At the sound of his wife's voice he stopped and stared at her with a somnambulistic, expressionless gaze so long that Mrs Verloc moved her limbs slightly under the bedclothes. But she did not move her black head sunk in the white pillow, one hand under her cheek and the big, dark, unwinking eyes.
Under her husband's expressionless stare, and remembering her mother's empty room across the landing, she felt an acute pang315 of loneliness. She had never been parted from her mother before. They had stood by each other. She felt that they had, and she said to herself that now mother was gone - gone for good. Mrs Verloc had no illusions. Stevie remained, however. And she said:
`Mother's done what she wanted to do. There's no sense in it that I can see. I'm sure she couldn't have thought you had enough of her. It's perfectly316 wicked, leaving us like that.'
Mr Verloc was not a well-read person; his range of allusive317 phrases was limited, but there was a peculiar aptness in circumstances which made him think of rats leaving a doomed318 ship. He very nearly said so. He had grown suspicious and embittered319. Could it be that the old woman had such an excellent nose? But the unreasonableness320 of such a suspicion was patent, and Mr Verloc held his tongue. Not altogether, however. He muttered, heavily:
`Perhaps it's just as well.'
He began to undress. Mrs Verloc kept very still, perfectly still, with her eyes fixed in a dreamy, quiet stare. And her heart for the fraction of a second seemed to stand still, too. That night she was `not quite herself', as the saying is, and it was borne upon her with some force that a simple sentence may hold several diverse meanings - mostly disagreeable. How was it just as well? And why? But she did not allow herself to fall into the idleness of barren speculation321. She was rather confirmed in her belief that things did not stand being looked into.
Practical and subtle in her way, she brought Stevie to the front without loss of time, because in her the singleness of purpose had the unerring nature and the force of an instinct.
`What I am going to do to cheer up that boy for the first few days I'm sure I don't know. He'll be worrying himself from morning till night before he gets used to mother being away. And he's such a good boy. I couldn't do without him.'
Mr Verloc went on divesting322 himself of his clothing with the unnoticing inward concentration of a man undressing in the solitude323 of a vast and hopeless desert. For thus inhospitably did this fair earth, our common inheritance, present itself to the mental vision of Mr Verloc. All was so still without and within that the lonely ticking of the clock on the landing stole into the room as if for the sake of company.
Mr Verloc, getting into bed on his own side, remained prone324 and mute behind Mrs Verloc's back. His thick arms rested abandoned on the outside of the counterpane like dropped weapons, like discarded tools. At that moment he was within a hair's breadth of making a clean breast of it all to his wife. The moment seemed propitious325. Looking out of the corners of his eyes, he saw her ample shoulders draped in white, the back of her head, with the hair done for the night in three plaits tied up with black tapes at the ends. And he forbore. Mr Verloc loved his wife as a wife should be loved - that is, maritally326, with the regard one has for one's chief possession. This head arranged for the night, those ample shoulders, had an aspect of familiar sacredness - the sacredness of domestic peace. She moved not, massive and shapeless like a recumbent statue in the rough; he remembered her wide-open eyes looking into the empty room. She was mysterious, with the mysteriousness of living beings. The far-famed secret agent Δ of the late Baron43 Stott-Wartenheim's alarmist dispatches was not the man to break into such mysteries. He was easily intimidated327. And he was also indolent, with the indolence which is so often the secret of good nature. He forbore touching328 that mystery out of love, timidity, and indolence. There would be always time enough. For several minutes he bore his sufferings silently in the drowsy329 silence of the room. And then he disturbed it by a resolute330 declaration.
`I am going on the Continent tomorrow.'
His wife might have fallen asleep already. He could not tell. As a matter of fact, Mrs Verloc had heard him. Her eyes remained very wide open, and she lay very still, confirmed in her instinctive conviction that things don't bear looking into very much. And yet it was nothing very unusual for Mr Verloc to take such a trip. He renewed his stock from Paris and Brussels. Often he went over to make his purchases personally. A little select connection of amateurs was forming around the shop in Brett Street, a secret connection eminently331 proper for any business undertaken by Mr Verloc, who, by a mystic accord of temperament332 and necessity, had been set apart to be a secret agent all his life.
He waited for a while, then added: `I'll be away a week or perhaps a fortnight. Get Mrs Neale to come for the day.'
Mrs Neale was the charwoman of Brett Street. Victim of her marriage with a debauched joiner, she was oppressed by the needs of many infant children. Red-armed, and aproned in coarse sacking up to the armpits, she exhaled333 the anguish of the poor in a breath of soap-suds and rum, in the uproar173 of scrubbing, in the clatter of tin pails.
Mrs Verloc, full of deep purpose, spoke in the tone of the shallowest indifference334.
`There is no need to have the woman here all day. I shall do very well with Stevie.'
She let the lonely clock on the landing count off fifteen ticks into the abyss of eternity335, and asked:
`Shall I put the light out?'
Mr Verloc snapped at his wife huskily.
`Put it out.'
收听单词发音 |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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astuteness
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| n.敏锐；精明；机敏 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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grudgingly
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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locomotion
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| n.运动，移动 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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consistency
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| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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brewer
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| n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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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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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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lank
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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tampering
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| v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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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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70
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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71
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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72
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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73
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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74
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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75
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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76
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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77
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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78
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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79
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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80
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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81
backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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82
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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83
mincingly
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84
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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85
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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86
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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87
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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88
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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89
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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91
sprouting
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| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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92
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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94
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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95
pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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96
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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97
jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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98
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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99
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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100
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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101
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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102
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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104
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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105
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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106
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
truculently
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108
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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109
ruminating
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| v.沉思( ruminate的现在分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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110
pristine
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| adj.原来的，古时的，原始的，纯净的，无垢的 | |
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111
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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112
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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113
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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114
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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115
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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116
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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117
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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118
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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119
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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120
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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121
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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122
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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123
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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124
biliousness
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| [医] 胆汁质 | |
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125
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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126
exiguity
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| n.些须，微小，稀少 | |
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127
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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128
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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129
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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130
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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131
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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132
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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133
callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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134
avid
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| adj.热心的；贪婪的；渴望的；劲头十足的 | |
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135
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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136
conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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137
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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138
applicant
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| n.申请人，求职者，请求者 | |
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139
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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140
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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141
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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142
specify
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| vt.指定，详细说明 | |
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143
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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144
unwillingness
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| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
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145
Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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146
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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147
slandering
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| [法]口头诽谤行为 | |
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148
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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149
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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150
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151
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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152
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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153
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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154
incertitude
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| n.疑惑，不确定 | |
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155
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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156
jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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157
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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158
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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159
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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160
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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161
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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162
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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163
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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164
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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165
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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166
inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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167
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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168
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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169
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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170
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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171
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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172
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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173
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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174
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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175
patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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176
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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177
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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178
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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179
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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180
symbolized
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| v.象征，作为…的象征( symbolize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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181
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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182
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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183
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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184
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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185
flexibility
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| n.柔韧性，弹性，（光的）折射性，灵活性 | |
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186
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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187
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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188
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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189
emancipation
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| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
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190
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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191
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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192
macabre
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| adj.骇人的，可怖的 | |
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193
dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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194
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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195
muggy
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|
| adj.闷热的；adv.（天气）闷热而潮湿地；n.（天气）闷热而潮湿 | |
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196
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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197
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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198
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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199
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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200
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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201
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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202
discoursed
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| 演说（discourse的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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203
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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204
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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205
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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206
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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207
apocalyptic
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| adj.预示灾祸的，启示的 | |
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208
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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209
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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210
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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211
concise
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| adj.简洁的，简明的 | |
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212
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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213
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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214
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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215
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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216
pouted
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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217
corroding
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| 使腐蚀，侵蚀( corrode的现在分词 ) | |
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218
wheezed
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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219
symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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220
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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221
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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222
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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223
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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224
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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225
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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226
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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227
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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228
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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229
scrunched
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| v.发出喀嚓声( scrunch的过去式和过去分词 )；蜷缩；压；挤压 | |
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230
ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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231
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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232
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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233
waddling
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的现在分词 ) | |
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234
incapable
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|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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235
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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236
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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237
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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238
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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239
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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240
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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241
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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242
squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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243
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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244
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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245
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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246
soothed
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|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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247
fathoming
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| 测量 | |
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248
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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249
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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250
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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251
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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252
manly
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|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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253
docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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254
slurring
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|
| 含糊地说出( slur的现在分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
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255
timorousness
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|
| n.羞怯，胆怯 | |
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256
amenities
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| n.令人愉快的事物；礼仪；礼节；便利设施；礼仪( amenity的名词复数 )；便利设施；（环境等的）舒适；（性情等的）愉快 | |
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257
profusion
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|
| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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258
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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259
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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260
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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261
weirdness
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|
| n.古怪，离奇，不可思议 | |
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262
vaguely
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|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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263
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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264
inflicted
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|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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265
obstinate
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|
| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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266
profundity
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| n.渊博；深奥，深刻 | |
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267
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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268
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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269
placidly
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|
| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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270
concisely
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| adv.简明地 | |
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271
perplexed
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|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
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272
cursorily
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|
| adv.粗糙地，疏忽地，马虎地 | |
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273
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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274
considerably
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|
| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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275
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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276
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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277
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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278
benevolent
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|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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279
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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280
constables
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| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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281
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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282
controversy
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|
| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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283
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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284
unnatural
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|
| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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285
anarchists
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|
| 无政府主义者( anarchist的名词复数 ) | |
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286
votary
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|
| n.崇拜者；爱好者；adj.誓约的，立誓任圣职的 | |
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287
instilled
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|
| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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288
transgressions
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|
| n.违反，违法，罪过( transgression的名词复数 ) | |
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289
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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290
amiable
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|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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291
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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292
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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293
beheld
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|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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294
morose
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|
| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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295
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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296
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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297
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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298
stonily
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| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
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299
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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300
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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301
irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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302
ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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303
consecrated
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|
| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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304
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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305
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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306
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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307
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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308
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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309
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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310
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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311
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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312
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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313
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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314
linen
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|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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315
pang
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|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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316
perfectly
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|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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317
allusive
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| adj.暗示的；引用典故的 | |
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318
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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319
embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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320
unreasonableness
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|
| 无理性； 横逆 | |
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321
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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322
divesting
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| v.剥夺( divest的现在分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
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323
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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324
prone
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|
| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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325
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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326
maritally
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|
| adv.婚姻上作为夫妇，作为丈夫，结了婚似地 | |
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327
intimidated
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|
| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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328
touching
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|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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329
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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330
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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331
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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332
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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333
exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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334
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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335
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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