Mrs. Crasterton had apologised for him as a sort of cousin. She said relations were so huffy that she had to overlook his not being in evening dress, that he was leaving immediately after dinner. He talked in a self-important voice to Jemima, as he called her, and did not see me at all beyond a nod when introduced as “a little girl”. His theory was that people of his class, that meant SOCIETY’S and Jemima’s, should never touch politics except for what was in them. They should feather their nests and get out while the going was good.
When the meal was eaten Big Ears and Big Checks went to the smoking room with Gaddy. Edmée disappeared upstairs. Mrs. Crasterton had still more telephoning to do, and told me to remain in the drawing-room, as Lady Hobnob was going to run in and see me on her way to a ball at Admiralty House. I must not delay her, as it was kind of her to come.
I wrote in my diary with a fountain pen sent to me by a commercial traveller at Broken Hill, until Gad1 seated himself nearby with an odour of wine and the stuffed look peculiar5 to men with short necks and long appetites. My soul did not go out to him. Mrs. Crasterton came in for a moment and said that Edmée’s admirer was not of an old family, and she pointed6 out a dog-eared ornament7 and named the howling swell9 from whom it had descended10.
“Stow that old rubbish, Sis,” said Gad testily11. “The girl is as young as morning and as fresh as dawn. She doesn’t want to concern herself with anything but being herself and not getting spoiled. Age is no recommendation of an article if a new thing would be an improvement. If we are here only to degenerate12 and breed rotters and find out that old things were better, the sooner we throw up the sponge the better.”
I discerned an unexpected ally.
Mrs. Crasterton threw off her shawl to meet arrivals. I was abashed13 to be in close proximity14. Her bosom15 was like two vast white puddings, her waist was sinfully compressed, she rocked on silly little heels, but she was as fashionable as Wheeler, the expert, could make lier. Lady Hobnob was as big as Mrs. Crasterton, but more flabby and spreading. She had her head wrapped in tulle with feathers that nodded precariously16, but she was kind. I was sure she must be a muddler. (I had had a méchante idea that one bared one’s arms and chest to extend one’s physical beauty and increase feminine attraction, but the startling exposure of four or five old ladies dispelled17 this notion. Evening dress must be an obligation of aristocraticness.) The very pronounced human form au naturel looks so very pronounced that it would be less of a shock to respectable way-backs to begin EVENING DRESS SOCIETY among slender people. However, the lessons in breeding that I had undergone that day starched18 my own, and without a blink I continued a when-you-don’t-know-what-to-do-do-nothing stand.
Other ladies in grand dresses called for an hour on their way to the ball. They were surprised that I was such a child, and that I had nothing to say for myself. Some said what a pity it was that I would so soon be spoiled. Everyone asked for me, and Mrs. Crasterton said, “Here she is!” Many women kissed me: old gentlemen pinched or goggled19 and said kind or silly things. Then they settled to talk to Jemima and Gaddy about affairs of the day, and the gossip of Sydney. Some of them were judges, and some were barristers, and M.L.A.s, and there was a Chancellor20, but I don’t know of what. Mrs. Crasterton beamed and said it was like old times.
Presently Edmée made her entry. Everyone saw it. She stood for a few minutes in the doorway21. She was in a pale green satin dress with a gored22 skirt with a train and a bodice fitting like a glove. It had no sleeves and was cut very low. Her bosom seemed to rise out of creamy foam23. She had a cape24 of the same satin trimmed with ostrich25 feathers, and it slipped off in the most exciting way. She languished26 and distributed her glances. There was a rush from the gentlemen to attend her: but she was true to me. She drew me down beside her where I sat raptly drinking her in. How proud I was when she put her arm around me!
Henry Beauchamp wondered how I’d act when I met girls that could rival me. Here was one who blotted27 me out, and I was enchanted28 with her. There was no jealousy29 in me. I forgot even to be envious30; forgot that I was in a plain white dress with all my bath-room charms hidden. I was sorry for Big Ears’ hopeless passion for Edmée, and motioned him to come and sit on the other side of me on the couch on which we were sitting. In the crush that ensued around us, I slipped away without being missed. Behind a shoulder of the wall in the back of the long drawing-room I found Big Checks all by himself.
“Hullo!” he said. “You sneakin’ out of the ruck too?”
“Yes, I was only taking up space around Miss Actem. Isn’t she lovely?”
“A rather upstanding filly. Been a bit too long in the stable. She hangs around here tryin’ to bag old Gaddy. She’ll bag young Derek if he doesn’t keep his eyes skinned.”
What a poisonous old man! I knew him at once for a broken-down swell. The bush is full of such. Sometimes they are tramps, but other times they are tea-agents. There was a book-agent around ‘Possum Gully, the image of this gentleman, checks, moustache and all. When there is a position as Stock Inspector32 their relatives use INFLUENCE to get it for them.
“I meant to go after dinner, but Jemima said something about a girl who writes, comin’ tonight. I’d as soon have a performin’ bear about the place as a woman who writes. The bear’s performance would be more natural too,”
“Then why did you stay?”
“Thought I’d better see what the world is comin’ to. Now that women are to have votes, life won’t be worth livin’ much longer.”
“Do you think that women should not have any brains?”
“Brains! A woman with brains is a monstrosity.”
I never can understand why men are so terrified of women having special talents. They have no consistency33 in argument. They are as sure as the Rock of Gibraltar that they have all the mental superiority and that women are weak-minded, feeble conies; then why do they get in such a mad-bull panic at any attempt on the part of women to express themselves? Men strut35 and blow about themselves all the time without shame. In the matter of women’s brain power they organise36 conditions comparable to a foot race in which they have all the training and the proper shoes and little running pants, while women are taken out of the plough, so to speak, with harness and winkers still on them, and are lucky if they are allowed to start at scratch. Then men bellow37 that they have won the race, that women never could, it would be against NATURE if they did. Surely it is not brave to so fear fair play. No self-respecting woman could possibly respect men, no matter how strong an appetite she might have for them, but to be sorry for them, as some women pretend, is mawkish38, and is carrying dissimulation39 too far.
Big Checks would put me on a level with a performing bear, and never know the alphabet of my language, but I could talk his pidgin while thinking about something else, so I indulged him on the subject of horses.
It was evident that he was a full bachelor. He lacked the mugginess40 of husbands and the air of false importance which they assume through the protection of their wives. Why women can be led astray by others’ husbands or have any traffic with them I cannot conceive.
“I heard about this girl,” I said.
“By jove, do you know her! Tell me what she is like.”
He was greedily interested for that sort of bachelor which the women don’t try to attract as compared with the sort that they do.
“I believe her book was meant as a joke, but people couldn’t see it. Her relations say that she is a silly goat and that her book is just like her.”
“I knew it. No nice girl would write a book.”
“I wish I could write one—only of course a much better one than this girl has done.”
“Oh, no, my dear, don’t be led astray by the false adulation and fuss about this minx. People come to look at her like a Punch and Judy show, but the kind of girl the world is in need of, the kind a man respects is one just like your pretty little self.”
Nevertheless he had not come to see her but the dreadful female who wrote.
“Me, pretty,” I scoffed41. “My mother doesn’t say so.”
“Ah, you have a sensible mother. She wants to save you from conceit42. You take it from me, and I’ve seen all the girls come out for the last twenty-five years, there’s not many could hold a candle to you if you were properly tricked out. You have a face that grows on a man—something that would make him come back and look a second time; and no paint or artificiality.”
“Think how lovely Miss Actem is,” I said to end his embarrassing exaggeration.
“Pooh! Your figure and complexion43 run her into the Harbor, and her eyes...”
“They’re glorious.”
“Go and look at your own. The way she ogles44 and throws hers about—I’m afraid, ‘pon me word, that they’ll drop out and I’ll have to pick ’em up.”
No doubt he had been snubbed by Edmée for getting in the way of more interesting cavaliers. He babbled45 of how the world would be dished by female suffrage46. Women were never meant to express themselves politically; they were born to sacrifice themselves—that was their glory and their crown: as soon as women began to assert themselves a nation declined.
I hung on secretly to my faith that the greatest nations would always be those where women were freest. The United States and the British Empire were the two countries where women could march about alone without being assailed47 by the men, and even BIG CHECKS and LOUDER CHECKS would agree that the English are the greatest race on earth, and themselves the most wonderful men.
Mrs. Crasterton found me as she came through to give some order about the refreshments48. “Dear me, Obadiah,” she remarked, “was it you that abducted49 the guest of the evening? Everyone wants to talk to you, Sybylla. You must not hide yourself.”
BIG CHECKS stood up and said, “I can’t wait any longer for this performin’ bear”. He grunted50 as if he had said something smart and funny. “I’ve enjoyed myself so much with you that she would spoil the taste in my mouth. Look here, don’t you go worryin’ because you haven’t any brains, me dear: You’re perfect as you are.”
“I don’t worry for lack of brains,” I said demurely51.
“That’s right, you leave brains to this performin’ bear with long teeth, and a thick waist, and about ten feet high.” He was again so pleased with his joke that I laughed at him, and he shook my hand very friendlily and went out by the hind31 door, took his cane52 and hat and let himself out.
Mrs. Crasterton, Gaddy, Edmée and I were finally left before the dying fire.
“Well, my dear, you are a huge success,” Mrs. Crasterton said to me. “I hope your dear little head won’t be turned by being the lion of the hour. Everyone has invited me to bring you to lunch or afternoon tea. People whom I had lost sight of since Papa died, came tonight, and smart people who have arisen since my young days have telephoned that they must meet you. Dear old Lady Hobnob is so taken with you that I am to take you to her big dinner tomorrow night and you are to spend the night with her. The literary people and artists are clamoring for you like the hungry lions at the zoo, but I don’t approve of the bohemians: they have dangerous political views and are loose in their morals.”
It was not disguised from me that my good behaviour had been a surprise. I had not shown the shock of disappointment on finding that people who had enjoyed opportunities of education, travel, “contact” and refinement53, which had long been debarred me owing to indigence54, were only like this. There weren’t any but Derek and Edmée who took my eye, and I heard Gaddy having quite a row with his sister about Edmée.
I sat by my window looking on the city across the Harbor for a long time. It all seemed unreal. A myriad55 lights shone like misty56 jewels across the balmy water where the ferry boats flitted like floating fires. It was all so beautiful that I resented more tensely than ever that so much of my life had been cramped57 into the ugly environs of ‘Possum Gully.
Edmée was up betimes next morning. I heard her talking to the others as I approached. “I was in hopes she would be more the enfant terrible, but she is too correct to be entertaining.”
“Wait till she comes out of her shell,” said Gaddy.
“I like her affection, and she is not a troublesome guest,” said Mrs. Crasterton. “Professor Jonathan says she promises more genius than anyone in the Colonies today, and Lady Hill says she would take Professor Jonathan’s word before anyone’s. He is a really cultured Englishman, and it is a pleasure to hear him say ninety-nine.”
“Go on, Sis!” said Gaddy good-humoredly, “He says nainty-nain.”
Hi-tiddly-hi-ti-hi!
I was all on tip-toe for the dinner of Lady Hobnob. The Hobnobs were described by one of the English guests of the “at home” night as able “to do things rather well for the Colonies.” This meant that they had the money and EXPERIENCE to give dinners of many courses including decayed game and several kinds of wine served by the regulation number of imported flunkeys.
The whole toot was going to this dinner. We went a little early so that my host could have an additional word with me. He became noisy on finding that I was the daughter of good old Dick Melvyn, one-time Member for Gool Gool, “One of the straightest men who ever lived, but ideas ahead of the times, and no head for business.” So that was his idea of Pa’s ideals. I let him do the shouting, and soon we went in to dinner.
There was a glare of bosoms58 above the table and much superfluous59 drapery lying around the chair legs underneath60, and hardly one dish out of the long list of courses that was sweet and wholesome61 enough for my palate so it must have been a recherché meal.
I sat on old Sir Jimmy’s left, a married woman had to have his right, but he grinned at me and talked to me most of the time. He declared that he never read a novel, but proclaimed that I was a ripping little girl and would soon settle down in marriage and leave scribbling62 to men or to those women who couldn’t catch a man. Such pidgin exposed his attitude towards women. His small talk was small indeed, even when he enlarged it by discussing probabilities for the Melbourne Cup. So he was easy to humour, and we got on swimmingly until he began about his wines. He was a connoisseur63, and prided himself on his cellar.
“Come, come! You must drink wine at my table,” said he, with pompous64 geniality65.
“No thank you, Sir James.”
“You must, my dear. You must.”
“No thank you,” I said firmly.
“Have you principles against drinking wine?”
“No, but I don’t like it, thank you.”
“Then you must learn to like it.”
Edmée was signalling for me to drink it, but my fighting blood was up. I had had to sink to his level about writers, which was most insulting to artistic66 intelligence and the rights of women. I would go no lower to please him, especially as I was feeling very resentful inside, and despising him as a swindler of public funds, who had thereby68 grown rich and important—with his gluttonous69 dinners and snifty servants!—while Pa’s honesty had resulted in deprivation70 and failure.
“Now, now, I insist,” persisted Sir James.
Poor old Gaddy was red in the face. Derek was pretending not to hear.
I shook my head and looked modest, which further incited71 Sir James. “Can you give me one good reason why you should not drink my wine?”
“Yes. If you came to see Pa and Ma and me we wouldn’t have any wine because we could not afford it. Pa tried to do good for his fellows and lost his money. We could offer you nothing better than tea and coffee and if you did not like them we would be sorry but we would not pester72 you to drink them against your wish.”
Sir James patted me on the hand and said, “Plucky little filly. If you were entered at Randwick you would run away from the field. I’ll drink your health out of a damned feeding bottle. What I like in women or horses is mettle73.”
Later in the drawing-room he sat beside me and said that while Lady Hobnob was away in Melbourne he would give a dinner specially67 for me with no damned married women present, so that I could have the place of honour. He smelt74 and looked as though he had drunk my share of the wine in addition to his own. Ill-bred old toad75!
Why should one be plagued to drink alcohol but allowed to refuse coffee or tea without any buzz?
I did not look forward to Sir Jimmy’s company when the guests left but he was in bed snoring ten minutes after the last goodnight. Lady Hobnob said they were old campaigners and had such a heavy social round that they did their best to curtail76 late hours.
Breakfast was brought to my bed by a maid, but I dressed before eating. It seemed frowsy to eat in bed as if I were ill. The maid later took me to her ladyship’s room where she was sitting up with the remains77 of a meal and many letters and papers scattered78 on her bed. This was an off day, by a miracle, and she was giving it to me because she had been moved by my book. She said that once she too had been a little girl in the bush who had thought that the great world would be wonderful.
“And now,” I glowed, “You have met all the great people and have seen Queen Victoria as well as King Edward and Queen Alexandra.”
She had been home to both Jubilees79 as a Government guest and to the Coronation, and told me of the wonders of Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle, but wound up “It has been a long weary way, my dear, from the old bush track with the mopokes calling and the moon coming up over the back paddock, and you brought me home to my youth.”
I stayed to lunch with her alone. I liked her, though she suggested untidiness. She was a bit gone about the belt and straggly around the hem4, and not above grubbiness in the lace at wrists and neck, and her hat was dowdy80.
You should see Ma’s belts, and her hems34 and her lace! She is always the pink of perfection (her own phrase) even when she is baking, or washing the blankets. From Ma I had gathered the idea that to be unkempt about hem or belt was the equivalent of being weak-minded, and Ma was emphatic81 that daintiness of person, especially when women were elderly, was indispensable.
I hate to have to mention anything so low, but it had a big influence on my attitude, so it must go in. I found that Hobnob House had BUGS82. Yes, insects that are never mentioned except in soft pedal and with a nick-name B FLATS. The vegetables at lunch tasted of antique butter and there was a mouldy atmosphere in the top floors. No one as capable as Ma had been there. It appeared that Lady Hobnob specialised in big dinners for which caterers and waiters came in. There were lots of other things that would have made Ma and Grandma snort in Hobnob Villa83 and the other houses I saw later.
When we were at dinner at Geebung Villa after my return, Edmée took me to task for provincialism in refusing Sir James’s wine, and Mrs. Crasterton said I must guard against being tiresome84 and odd or showing any taint85 of socialism. Only Gaddy cheered me still.
“You had a case,” said he. “You have a right to your own tastes and old Jimmy was rude. As for the crowd they’d dress in sugee bagging if some bigger swell took the lead.”I sat silent and rather stubborn. I would have adduced the B FLATS only that Lady Hobnob had been so kind. I thought about them, however, and resisted SOCIETY pretensions86. Pa and Ma had reared me exceptionally, plus which I had my own affliction of bringing reality to bear. After all, my paternal87 grandmother had been assured of her altitude above the hoi polloi of the “beastly Cawlonies”; and a cockatoo’s crest88 would have been an infant compared with the eyebrows89 of my maternal90 grandfather had Sydney society tried to dictate91 his right to tolerate it or to ignore it.
As I retreated upstairs I heard Gaddy again, “If she weren’t different from other girls she wouldn’t be such a draw, and you would have to give her some new dresses. I never met another kid who would have the pluck to go among others all dressed to kill while she has nothing but the one school-girl dress of some kind of white rag.”
I was continually surprised by Gaddy’s understanding: but ah, if Derek had only championed me! Gaddy put on no airs about literature and we both loved flowers, so we had an absorbing topic in common. He was responsible for the beauty of the terraced gardens and dug in them himself on Saturdays and Sunday mornings. He was something in a Government Department—a soft job, I was told, with a big screw that his brother-in-law had secured for him while in power.
Sunday. Mrs Crasterton asked Edmée and me to accompany her to church. Edmée laboured in a Sunday school while in Sydney. “Horrible little brutes92 of kids!” she observed. “I detest93 them, but it is good to keep in with the Church. Sometimes the most distinguished94 people from England have introductions that keep them tight in church circles. Besides, men say that a girl without religion is like a rose without perfume.”
This sort of yelp95 raised in me a devil of opposition96 and I decided97 to tell any man that began to admire me that I was a free-thinker.
My hostess appeared in a black satin gown and a resplendent yellow bonnet98 and a set of “wonderfully old” jewellery, and carried a prayer book inscribed99 by the Bishop100. I chose to stay at home with Gaddy. I did not feel well-dressed enough for church.
Gaddy read a yellow-back in French and I read the Sunday Times. In it I found a story about myself. Some writer under an alias101 said I had no idea of how to dress. She ridiculed102 my appearance among fashionable people in a dress suitable only for the house in the morning, and flat-heeled shoes and cotton stockings, and said that I had no cloak but a sort of jacket, and that my hands showed the effects of manual labour, and that I had no idea of how to exercise sexual charm. She also said that nothing could have excited more interest than my lack of a suitable wardrobe.
“What does exercising sexual charm mean?” I asked Gaddy.
He damned and exploded and said he had meant to burn that unholy rag, and that exercising charm meant rolling one’s eye like Edmée did, and exposing the salt-cellars around the clavicles, and having a lot of damned rags on the floor where he was forever tripping over ’em.
The SOCIETY REPORTER was a Mrs. Thrumnoddy who had been at the Hobnobs’ dinner, and considered herself the best-dressed woman in Sydney. “Does she get money for writing like that about me?” I asked.
Gaddy said she certainly did, and was the wife of a rich broker103.
No wonder she could dress well!
“Gaddy,” I said, “I could dress well if I had money, but the drought killed all our stock, and Pa is not a good business man. We haven’t a thing really. I couldn’t even have a sash for my dress, but my stockings are real good cashmere.” I began to cry.
“Never mind, ducky,” said he. “Your little finger is worth all those old cats put together. Do let us get you some clothes. My sister owes it to you for all the social prominence104 you are bringing her.”
I shrank into my shell. A man offering me clothes filled me with shame, even though it was only fat old Gaddy, who seemed more like Humpty Dumpty than a man or a bachelor or even an uncle. I longed for pretty clothes but could bear up without them, what cut me so deeply was that a woman who had kissed me and made such a fuss over me could write about me like that in the paper for everyone to read, and that she could get money for writing thus while I could not get any for writing about her, though I needed it so dreadfully. I hate unfairness.
Gaddy said no more. He got books and read to me. His reading was feraboracious, but his kindness soothed105 like oil on a burn. As we were going in to lunch, he said that I was not to mind Mrs. Thrumnoddy, that she was a petty parasite106 who had had the opportunity of her life in meeting me.
Even the Harbor with the white sails on it and the ferries all gay with clothes and busking men could not rescue Sunday from being a stale day. Young Mr. Big Ears came home from church with Edmée and Mrs. Crasterton. Gaddy said that he was a teacher in the Sunday School and that was why Edmée laboured in that vineyard.
Big Ears brought two boxes of chocolates, an enormous one, which he handed to me, and a tiny one which he handed to Edmée. When we were alone I said he had made a mistake, but Edmée said no, she had asked him to give me this as she hated chocolates, but Big Ears evidently thought it would look queer to leave her out altogether.
On Monday, Mrs Crasterton took me sightseeing. We looked at the shops and she gave me a little imitation gold brooch which delighted me, as I had no other. I dragged her everywhere from the Post Office Tower to a waxworks107 show. She was a kind victim, as she was old and heavy. I loved it all, though I was haunted by a sense of delinquency in doing anything but the wash on Monday. Monday with me had always been sacred to the laundry and Sunday’s scraps108, except when Christmas despotically fell on a Monday.
It was such a busy day that I had no time to brood on the writing woman’s pricks109, and when we got home there was a parcel awaiting me—the most wonderful necklace and bracelets110, heavy and old-fashioned and valuable. They were from Big Ears. He said they had been his mother’s so that he could not give them to me outright111 yet, but that he had heard me say that I loved bracelets and it would be a great honour to him if I wore these while in Sydney.
This looked like another kindness grace à Edmée. Big Ears had also left a note for Mrs. Crasterton. As it was an off night he hoped she would be free and that he might take her and me to a concert to hear a budding Melba. Edmée said, “By jove, I’m glad you are rescuing me from that screech112 owl8, and I do hope Big Ears will soon come to a head so that I can get rid of him.”
Derek had a similar idea of Big Ears. When his mother said that Big Ears was interested in me because he too was a writer, Derek snorted uproariously. He was having dinner with us for the first night since my arrival.
“Dekky, don’t be naughty. He wrote charming verses in my album. He is one of our minor113 poets.”
Already we had met no end of poets—the big fellows one at a time, that is if Mrs. Crasterton thought them “nice” enough to be exposed to my unsophistication. We had the damned little twinkling stars in constellations114 at tea to produce a stellary effect.
“Big Ears doesn’t look like a poet,” I exclaimed. Messrs Lawson, Paterson, Brady, Quinn, Ogilvie and others set a high standard of physique which outclassed poor little Big Ears.
“Look like a poet! He looks like a greengrocer’s assistant who—who teaches Sunday School,” ended Derek.
Gaddy had a stunning115 blue sash waiting for me. I longed to own it but had not been educated to receive things. Mine was the independence which loves to lavish116 gifts upon others but squirms at receiving them. The sash was so long and my middle inches so few that I had to put the sash twice around me, and then it covered me to the armpits, and the ends of the big bow fell to the hem of my skirt. The cook, who was a darling, had done up my little dress and it was all fresh and glistening117. Gaddy said that the sash was no more than a box of chocolates, and with a laugh added, that I could at least borrow it while I was in Sydney if I wouldn’t take it altogether. I consented to wear it until I could write and ask Ma if I could keep it.
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gad
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insipid
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walrus
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hem
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peculiar
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pointed
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ornament
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owl
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swell
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descended
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testily
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degenerate
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abashed
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proximity
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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precariously
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dispelled
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starched
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goggled
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| adj.戴护目镜的v.睁大眼睛瞪视， （惊讶的）转动眼珠( goggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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21
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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gored
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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24
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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26
languished
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| 长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 )； 受折磨； 变得（越来越）衰弱； 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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27
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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29
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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30
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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31
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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32
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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33
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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34
hems
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| 布的褶边，贴边( hem的名词复数 )； 短促的咳嗽 | |
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35
strut
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| v.肿胀，鼓起；大摇大摆地走；炫耀；支撑；撑开；n.高视阔步；支柱，撑杆 | |
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36
organise
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| vt.组织，安排，筹办 | |
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37
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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38
mawkish
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| adj.多愁善感的的；无味的 | |
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39
dissimulation
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| n.掩饰，虚伪，装糊涂 | |
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40
mugginess
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| n.（天气）闷热而潮湿 | |
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41
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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43
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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44
ogles
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45
babbled
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| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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suffrage
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| n.投票，选举权，参政权 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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49
abducted
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| 劫持，诱拐( abduct的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（肢体等）外展 | |
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50
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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51
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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52
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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53
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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54
indigence
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| n.贫穷 | |
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55
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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56
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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57
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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58
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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59
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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60
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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61
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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62
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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63
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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64
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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65
geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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66
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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68
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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69
gluttonous
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| adj.贪吃的，贪婪的 | |
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70
deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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71
incited
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| 刺激，激励，煽动( incite的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
pester
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| v.纠缠，强求 | |
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73
mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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74
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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75
toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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76
curtail
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| vt.截短，缩短；削减 | |
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77
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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78
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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79
jubilees
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| n.周年纪念( jubilee的名词复数 ) | |
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80
dowdy
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| adj.不整洁的；过旧的 | |
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81
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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82
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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83
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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84
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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85
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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86
pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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87
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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88
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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89
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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90
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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91
dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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92
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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93
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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94
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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95
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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96
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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97
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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98
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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99
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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100
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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101
alias
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| n.化名；别名；adv.又名 | |
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102
ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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104
prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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105
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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106
parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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107
waxworks
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| n.公共供水系统；蜡制品，蜡像( waxwork的名词复数 ) | |
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108
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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109
pricks
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| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
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110
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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111
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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112
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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113
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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114
constellations
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| n.星座( constellation的名词复数 )；一群杰出人物；一系列（相关的想法、事物）；一群（相关的人） | |
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115
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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116
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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117
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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