“Dinny,” he said, turning, “can you think of any way in which I can make this less beastly for her? It’s all my fault in a sense, but I have tried to keep myself in hand.”
Dinny looked at his troubled face. “I can’t; except by sticking to the exact truth.”
“Do you believe in that chap in there?”
“I rather do. I like his taking snuff.”
“I don’t believe in defending. Why should she be ragged1 in the witness-box for nothing? What does it matter if they bankrupt me?”
“We must prevent that somehow.”
“D’you think I’d let —”
“We won’t discuss it, Tony. Sufficient unto the day! Isn’t this a dingy2 place? Dentists try much harder — Marcus Stone on the walls, all the old Bystanders, and you can bring a dog.”
“Could we smoke?”
“Surely.”
“These are only stinkers.”
Dinny took one, and they puffed3 for a minute in silence.
“It’s too foul4!” he said, suddenly. “That fellow will have to come over, won’t he? He never can really have cared a scrap5 for her.”
“Oh! yes, he did. ‘Souvent homme varie, folle est qui s’y fie!’”
“Well,” said young Croom grimly, “I’d better be kept from him.” He went back to the window and stood looking out. Dinny sat thinking of that scene, when two men had not been kept apart, so pitifully like a dog fight and rending6 to her in its sequel.
Then Clare came in. There were spots of red in her pale cheeks. “Your turn, Tony.”
Young Croom came from the window, looked hard into her face, and passed into the lawyer’s room. Dinny felt very sorry for him.
“Ugh!” said Clare: “Let’s get out of this!”
On the pavement, she went on:
“I wish now we had been lovers, Dinny, instead of in this mock-pretty state that no one believes in.”
“We DO believe.”
“Oh! you and Dad. But that snuffy rabbit doesn’t, and no one else will. Still, I shall go through with it. I won’t let Tony down, and I won’t give Jerry an inch that I can help giving.”
“Let’s have tea,” said Dinny. “There must be tea somewhere in the City.”
In a crowded thoroughfare they soon saw an A.B.C.
“Then you didn’t like ‘very young’ Roger?” asked Dinny from across the small round table.
“Oh! he’s all right — rather decent, really. I suppose lawyers simply can’t believe. But nothing will shake me, Dinny, about not going into my married life. I will not, and that’s flat.”
“I see his point. You start with the battle half won against you.”
“I won’t allow the lawyers to work it in. We employ them, and they must do what we want. I’m going straight from here to the Temple, by the bye, and perhaps on to the House.”
“Excuse my reverting7 for a moment; but what are you going to do about Tony Croom till this comes on?”
“Go on just as we were, except for nights in cars. Though what the difference between day and night — in a car, or anywhere else — is, I don’t know.”
“I suppose they go by human nature as a whole.” And Dinny leaned back. So many girls, so many young men, snatching their teas and rolls and buns and cocoa; chatter8 and silence and a stale effluvium, little tables, and the attendant spirits. What WAS human nature as a whole? Didn’t they say that it had to be changed? The stuffy9 past wiped out! And yet this A.B.C. was just like the A.B.C. she went into with her mother before the war, and thought so thrilling because the bread was aerated10. And the Divorce Court — into which she had never been yet — was that any different?
“Have you finished, old thing?” said Clare.
“Yes. I’ll come with you as far as the Temple.”
As they paused to part at Middle Temple Lane, a rather high and pleasant voice said:
“What luck!” and a light momentary11 grip was laid on her arm.
“If you’re going straight to the House,” said Clare, “I’ll run on and get my things and join you here.”
“Tactful,” said Dornford. “Let’s stand against this ‘portal.’ When I don’t see you for so long, Dinny, I feel lost. Jacob served for Rachel fourteen years — longevity12 is not what it was, so every month I serve is equal to one of his years.”
“Rachel and he were walking out.”
“I know. Well, I must just wait and hope. I just HAVE to wait.”
Leaning against the yellow ‘portal’ she looked at him. His face was quivering. Suddenly sorry, she said:
“Some day, perhaps, I shall come to life again. I won’t wait any more now. Good-bye, and thank you! . . .”
This sudden intrusion of herself was no comfort to her in her homing bus. The sight of his quivering face made her restless and uneasy. She did not want to cause him unhappiness — a nice man, considerate to Clare, a pleasant voice, an attractive face; and in range of interest nearer to her than Wilfrid had ever been. Only, where was that wild, sweet yearning13, transmuting14 every value, turning the world into a single being, the one longed-for, dreamed-of mate? She sat very still in the bus, looking over the head of the woman on the opposite side, who, with fingers crisped on the satchel15 in her lap, wore the expression of a sportsman about to try a new field or spinney. The lights were coming up in Regent Street of a cold, just not snowy evening. There used to be the low curving roof-line, the rather nice, bilious16 yellow of the Quadrant. She remembered how on the top of a bus she had differed from the girl Millicent Pole about old Regent Street. Changing, changing, everything changing! And before her suddenly closed eyes came Wilfrid’s face, with its lips drawn17 back, as she had seen it last passing her in the Green Park.
Someone trod on her toe. She opened her eyes, and said: “I beg your pardon.”
“Granted, I’m sure.”
Very polite! People were more polite every year!
The bus had stopped. Dinny hurried from it. She went down Conduit Street, passing her father’s tailors. Poor darling, he never went there now. Clothes were so dear; and, of course, he loathed18 new clothes! She came to Bond Street.
The traffic staggered to a standstill, the whole street seemed one long line of held-up cars. And England ruined! She crossed into Bruton Street. And then, in front of her, she saw a familiar figure, walking slowly with his head down! She came up with him.
“Stack!”
He raised his head; tears were trickling19 down his cheeks. He blinked his large dark prominent eyes, and passed his hand over his face.
“You miss? I was just coming to you.” And he held out a telegram.
Holding it up in the dim light, she read:
“Henry Stack, 50a Cork20 Street, London. Very sorry to inform you Honourable21 Wilfrid Desert drowned on expedition up-country some weeks ago. Body recovered and buried on spot. Report only just come in. No possible doubt. Condolences. British Consulate22, Bangkok.”
Stonily23 she stood, seeing nothing. Stack’s fingers came up and detached the telegram.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you. Show it to Mr. Mont, Stack. Don’t grieve.”
“Oh, miss!”
Dinny laid her fingers on his sleeve, gave it a little pull, and walked swiftly on.
Don’t grieve! Sleet24 was falling now. She raised her face to feel the tingling25 touch of those small flakes26. No more dead to her than he had already been. But — DEAD! Away over there — utterly27 far! Lying in the earth by the river that had drowned him, in forest silence, where no one would ever see his grave. Every memory she had of him came to life with an intensity28 that seemed to take all strength from her limbs, so that she nearly collapsed29 in the snowy street. She stood for a minute with her gloved hand on the railing of a house. An evening postman stopped and looked round at her. Perhaps some tiny flame of hope — that some day he would come back — had flickered30 deep down within her; perhaps only the snowy cold was creeping into her bones; but she felt deadly cold and numb31.
She reached Mount Street at last and let herself in. And there a sudden horror of betraying that anything had happened to awaken32 pity for her, interest in her, any sort of feeling, beset33 her, and she fled to her room. What was it to anyone but her? And pride so moved within her that even her heart felt cold as stone.
A hot bath revived her a little. She dressed for dinner early and went down.
The evening was one of silences more tolerable than the spasmodic spurts34 of conversation. Dinny felt ill. When she went up to bed her Aunt came to her room.
“Dinny, you look like a ghost.”
“I got chilled, Auntie.”
“Lawyers! — they do. I’ve brought you a posset.”
“Ah! I’ve always longed to know what a posset is.”
“Well, drink it.”
Dinny drank, and gasped35.
“Frightfully strong.”
“Yes. Your Uncle made it. Michael rang up.” And taking the glass, Lady Mont bent36 forward and kissed her cheek. “That’s all,” she said. “Now go to bed, or you’ll be ill.”
Dinny smiled. “I’m not going to be ill, Aunt Em.”
In pursuance of that resolve she went down to breakfast next morning.
The oracle37, it seemed, had spoken in a typewritten letter signed Kingson, Cuthcott and Forsyte. It recommended putting in a defence, and had so advised Lady Corven and Mr. Croom. When it had taken the necessary proceedings38 it would advise further.
And that coldness in the pit of the stomach which follows the receipt of lawyers’ letters was felt even by Dinny, the pit of whose stomach was already deadly cold.
She went back to Condaford with her father by the morning train, repeating to her Aunt the formula: “I’m not going to be ill.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
dingy
|
|
| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
puffed
|
|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
rending
|
|
| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
reverting
|
|
| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
stuffy
|
|
| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
aerated
|
|
| v.使暴露于空气中，使充满气体( aerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
longevity
|
|
| n.长命；长寿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
transmuting
|
|
| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
satchel
|
|
| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
bilious
|
|
| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
loathed
|
|
| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
trickling
|
|
| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
cork
|
|
| n.软木，软木塞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
consulate
|
|
| n.领事馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
stonily
|
|
| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
sleet
|
|
| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
tingling
|
|
| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
flakes
|
|
| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
collapsed
|
|
| adj.倒塌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
numb
|
|
| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
awaken
|
|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
spurts
|
|
| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
oracle
|
|
| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |