George knew, of course, that Mr. Merrit was Randy’s boss, and he learned that Mr. Merrit was in the habit of coming to town every two or three months. He would arrive like a benevolent5, pink-cheeked Santa Claus, making his jolly little jokes, passing out his fat cigars, putting his arm round people’s shoulders, and, in general, making everyone feel good. As he said himself:
“I’ve got to turn up now and then just to see that the boys are behaving themselves, and not taking in any wooden nickels.”
Here he winked6 at George in such a comical way that all of them had to grin. Then he gave George a big cigar.
His functions seemed to be ambassadorial. He was always taking Randy and the salesmen of the Company out to lunch or dinner, and, save for brief visits to the office, he seemed to spend most of his time inaugurating an era of good feeling and high living. He would go around town and meet everybody, slapping people on the back and calling them by their first names, and for a week after he had left the business men of Libya Hill would still be smoking his cigars. When he came to town he always stayed “out of the house”, and one knew that Margaret would prepare her best meals for him, and that there would be some good drinks. Mr. Merrit supplied the drinks himself, for he always brought along a plentiful7 store of expensive beverages8. George could see at their first meeting that he was the kind of man who exudes9 an aura of good fellowship, and that was why it was so pleasant to have Mr. Merrit staying in the house.
Mr. Merrit was not only a nice fellow. He was also “with the Company”, and George soon realised that “the Company” was a vital and mysterious force in all their lives. Randy had gone with it as soon as he left college. He had been sent to the main office, up North somewhere, and had been put through a course of training. Then he had come back South and had worked his way up from salesman to district agent — an important member of the sales organisation10.
“The Company”, “district agent”, “the sales organisation”— mysterious titles all of them, but most comforting. During the week George was in Libya Hill with Randy and Margaret, Mr. Merrit was usually on hand at meal times, and at night he would sit out on the front porch with them and carry on in his jolly way, joking and laughing and giving them all a good time. Sometimes he would talk shop with Randy, telling stories about the Company and about his own experiences in the organisation, and before long George began to pick up a pretty good idea of what it was all about.
The Federal Weight, Scales, and Computing11 Company was a far-flung empire which had a superficial aspect of great complexity12, but in its essence it was really beautifully simple. Its heart and soul — indeed, its very life — was its sales organisation.
The entire country was divided into districts, and over each district an agent was appointed. This agent, in turn, employed salesmen to cover the various portions of his district. Each district also had an “office man” to attend to any business that might come up while the agent and his salesmen were away, and a “repair man” whose duty it was to overhaul13 damaged or broken-down machines. Together, these comprised the agency, and the country was so divided that there was, on the average, an agency for every unit of half a million people in the total population. Thus there were two hundred and sixty or seventy agencies through the nation, and the agents with their salesmen made up a working force of from twelve to fifteen hundred men.
The higher purposes of this industrial empire, which the employees almost never referred to by name, as who should speak of the deity14 with coarse directness, but always with a just perceptible lowering and huskiness of the voice as “the Company”— these higher purposes were also beautifully simple. They were summed up in the famous utterance15 of the Great Man himself, Mr. Paul S. Appleton, III, who invariably repeated it every year as a peroration16 to his hour-long address before the assembled members of the sales organisation at their national convention. Standing17 before them at the close of each year’s session, he would sweep his arm in a gesture of magnificent command towards an enormous map of the United States of America that covered the whole wall behind him, and say:
“There’s your market! Go out and sell them!”
What could be simpler and more beautiful than this? What could more eloquently18 indicate that mighty19 sweep of the imagination which has been celebrated20 in the annals of modern business under the name of “vision”? The words had the spacious21 scope and austere22 directness that have characterised the utterances23 of great leaders in every epoch24 of man’s history. It is Napoleon speaking to his troops in Egypt: “Soldiers, from the summit of yonder pyramids, forty centuries look down upon you.” It is Captain Perry: “We have met the enemy, and they are ours.” It is Dewey at Manila Bay: “You may fire when ready, Gridley.” It is Grant before Spottsylvania Court House: “I propose to fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer.”
So when Mr. Paul S. Appleton, III, waved his arm at the wall and said: “There’s your market! Go out and sell them!”— the assembled captains, lieutenants26, and privates in the ranks of his sales organisation knew that there were still giants in the earth, and that the age of romance was not dead.
True, there had once been a time when the aspirations27 of the Company had been more limited. That was when the founder28 of the institution, the grandfather of Mr. Paul S. Appleton, III, had expressed his modest hopes by saying: “I should like to see one of my machines in every store, shop, or business that needs one, and that can afford to pay for one.” But the self-denying restrictions30 implicit31 in the founder’s statement had long since become so out of date as to seem utterly32 mid-Victorian. Mr. David Merrit admitted it himself. Much as he hated to speak ill of any man, and especially the founder of the Company, he had to confess that by the standards of 1929 the old gentleman had lacked vision.
“That’s old stuff now,” said Mr. Merrit, shaking his head and winking33 at George, as though to take the curse off of his treason to the founder by making a joke of it. “We’ve gone way beyond that!” he exclaimed with pardonable pride. “Why, if we waited nowadays to sell a machine to someone who needs one, we’d get nowhere.” He was nodding now at Randy, and speaking with the seriousness of deep conviction. “We don’t wait until he needs one. If he says he’s getting along all right without one, we make him buy one anyhow. We make him see the need, don’t we, Randy? In other words, we create the need.”
This, as Mr. Merrit went on to explain, was what is known in more technical phrase as “creative salesmanship” or “creating the market”. And this poetic34 conception was the inspired work of one man — none other than the present head of the Company, Mr. Paul S. Appleton, III, himself. The idea had come to him in a single blinding flash, born full-blown like Pallas Athene from the head of Zeus, and Mr. Merrit still remembered the momentous36 occasion as vividly37 as if it had been only yesterday. It was at one of the meetings of the assembled parliaments of the Company that Mr. Appleton, soaring in an impassioned flight of oratory38, became so intoxicated39 with the grandeur40 of his own vision that he stopped abruptly41 in the middle of a sentence and stood there as one entranced, gazing out dreamily into the unknown vistas42 of magic Canaan; and when he at last went on again, it was in a voice surcharged with quivering emotion:
“My friends,” he said, “the possibilities of the market, now that we see how to create it, are practically unlimited43!” Here he was silent for a moment, and Mr. Merrit said that the Great Man actually paled and seemed to stagger as he tried to speak, and that his voice faltered44 and sank to an almost inaudible whisper, as if he himself could hardly comprehend the magnitude of his own conception. “My friends”— he muttered thickly, and was seen to clutch the rostrum for support —“my friends — seen properly”— he whispered, and moistened his dry lips —“seen properly — the market we shall create being what it is”— his voice grew stronger, and the clarion45 words now rang forth46 —“there is no reason why one of our machines should not be in the possession of every man, woman, and child in the United\ States!” Then came the grand, familiar gesture to the map: “There’s your market, boys! Go out and sell them!”
Henceforth this vision became the stone on which Mr. Paul S. Appleton, III, erected47 the magnificent edifice48 of the true church and living faith which was called “the Company”. And in the service of this vision Mr. Appleton built up an organisation which worked with the beautiful precision of a locomotive piston49. Over the salesman was the agent, and over the agent was the district supervisor50, and over the district supervisor was the district manager, and over the district manager was the general manager, and over the general manager was — if not God himself, then the next thing to it, for the agents and salesmen referred to him in tones of proper reverence51 as “P. S. A.”
Mr. Appleton also invented a special Company Heaven known as the Hundred Club. Its membership was headed by P. S. A., and all the ranks of the sales organisation were eligible52, down to the humblest salesman. The Hundred Club was a social order, but it was also a good deal more than that. Each agent and salesman had a “quota54”— that is to say, a certain amount of business which was assigned to him as the normal average of his district and capacity. A man’s quota differed from another’s according to the size of his territory, its wealth, and his own experience and ability. One man’s quota would be sixty, another’s eighty, another’s ninety or one hundred, and if he was a district agent, his quota would be higher than that of a mere55 salesman. Each man, however, no matter how small or how large his quota might be, was eligible for membership in the Hundred Club, the only restriction29 being that he must average one hundred per cent of his quota. If he averaged more — if he got, say, one hundred and twenty per cent of his quota — there were appropriate honours and rewards, not only social but financial as well. One could be either high up or low down in the Hundred Club, for it had almost as many degrees of merit as the Masonic order.
The unit of the quota system was “the point”, and a point was forty dollars’ worth of business. So if a salesman had a quota of eighty, this meant that he had to sell the products of the Federal Weight, Scales, and Computing Company to the amount of at least $3200 every month, or almost $40,000 a year. The rewards were high. A salesman’s commission was from fifteen to twenty per cent of his sales; an agent’s from, twenty to twenty-five per cent. Beyond this there were bonuses to be earned by achieving or surpassing his quota. Thus it was possible for an ordinary salesman in an average district to earn from $6,000 to $8,000 a year, while an agent could earn from $12,000 to $15,000, and even more if his district was an exceptionally good one.
So much for the rewards of Mr. Appleton’s Heaven. But what would Heaven be if there were no Hell? So Mr. Appleton was forced by the logic56 of the situation to invent a Hell, too. Once a man’s quota was fixed57 at any given point, the Company never reduced it. Moreover, if a salesman’s quota was eighty points and he achieved it during the year, he must be prepared at the beginning of the new year to find that his quota had been increased to ninety points. One had to go onwards and upwards58 constantly, and the race was to the swift.
While it was quite true that membership in the Hundred Club was not compulsory59, it was also true that Mr. Paul S. Appleton, III, was a theologian who, like Calvin, knew how to combine free will and predestination. If one did not belong to the Hundred Club, the time was not far distant when one would not belong to Mr. Appleton. Not to belong to it was, for agent or salesman, the equivalent of living on the other side of the railroad tracks. If one failed of admission to the Company Heaven, or if one dropped out, his fellows would begin to ask guardedly: “Where’s Joe Klutz these days?” The answers would be vague, and in the course of time Joe Klutz would be spoken of no more. He would fade into oblivion. He was “no longer with the Company”.
Mr. Paul S. Appleton, III, never had but the one revelation — the one which Mr. Merrit so movingly described — but that was enough, and he never let its glories and allurements60 grow dim. Four times a year, at the beginning of each quarter, he would call his general manager before him and say: “What’s the matter, Elmer? You’re not getting the business! The market is there! You know what you can do about it — or else . . .!” Thereupon the general manager would summon the district managers one by one and repeat to them the words and manner of P. S. A., and the district managers would reenact the scene before each of the district supervisors61, who would duplicate it to the agents, who would pass it on to the salesmen, who, since they had no one below them, would “get out and hustle62 — or else!” This was called “keeping up the morale63 of the organisation.”
As Mr. David Merrit sat on the front porch and told of his many experiences with the Company, his words conveyed to George Webber a great deal more than he actually said. For his talk went on and on in its vein64 of mellow65 reminiscence, and Mr. Merrit made his little jokes and puffed66 contentedly67 at one of his own cigars, and everything he said carried an overtone of “What a fine and wonderful thing it is to be connected with the Company!”
He told, for example, about the splendid occasion every year when all the members of the Hundred Club were brought together for what was known as “The Week of Play”. This was a magnificent annual outing conducted “at the Company’s expense”. The meeting place might be in Philadelphia or Washington, or in the tropic opulence68 of Los Angeles or Miami, or it might be on board a chartered ship — one of the small but luxurious69 twenty-thousand-tonners that ply70 the transatlantic routes — bound to Bermuda or Havana. Wherever it was, the Hundred Club was given a free sweep. If the journey was by sea, the ship was theirs — for a week. All the liquor in the world was theirs, if they could drink it — and Bermuda’s coral isles71, or the unlicensed privilege of gay Havana. For that one week everything on earth that money could buy was at the command of the members of the Hundred Club, everything was done on the grand scale, and the Company — the immortal72, paternal73, and great-hearted Company —“paid for everything”.
But as Mr. Merrit painted his glowing picture of the fun they had on these occasions, George Webber saw quite another image. It was an image of twelve or fifteen hundred men — for on these pilgrimages, by general consent, women (or, at any rate, wives) were debarred — twelve or fifteen hundred men, Americans, most of them in their middle years, exhausted74, overwrought, their nerves frayed75 down and stretched to the breaking point, met from all quarters of the continent “at the Company’s expense” for one brief, wild, gaudy76 week of riot. And George thought grimly what this tragic77 spectacle of business men at play meant in terms of the entire scheme of things and the plan of life that had produced it. He began to understand, too, the changes which time had brought about in Randy.
The last day of his week in Libya Hill, George had gone to the station to buy his return ticket and he stopped in at Randy’s office a little before one o’clock to go home to lunch with him. The outer salesroom, with its shining stock of scales and computing machines imposingly78 arrayed on walnut79 pedestals, was deserted80, so he sat down to wait. On one wall hung a gigantic coloured poster. “August Was the Best Month in Federal History,” it read. “Make September a Better One! The Market’s There, Mr. Agent. The Rest Is Up to You!”
Behind the salesroom was a little partitioned Space which served Randy as an office. As George waited, gradually he became aware of mysterious sounds emanating81 from beyond the partition. First there was the rustle82 of heavy paper, as if the pages of a ledger83 were being turned, and occasionally there would be a quick murmur84 of hushed voices, confidential85, ominous86, interspersed87 with grunts88 and half-suppressed exclamations89. Then all at once there were two loud bangs, as of a large ledger being slammed shut and thrown upon a desk or table, and after a moment’s silence the voices rose louder, distinct, plainly audible. Instantly he recognised Randy’s voice — low, grave, hesitant, and deeply troubled. The other voice he had never heard before.
But as he listened to that voice he began to tremble and grow white about the lips. For its very tone was a foul90 insult to human life, an ugly sneer91 whipped across the face of decent humanity, and as he realised that that voice, these words, were being used against his friend, he had a sudden blind feeling of murder in his heart. And what was so perplexing and so troubling was that this devil’s voice had in it as well a curiously92 familiar note, as of someone he had known.
Then it came to him in a flash — it was Merrit speaking! The owner of that voice, incredible as it seemed, was none other than that plump, well-kept, jolly-looking man who had always been so full of hearty93 cheerfulness and good spirits every time he had seen him.
Now, behind that little partition of glazed94 glass and varnished95 wood, this man’s voice had suddenly become fiendish. It was inconceivable, and as George listened he grew sick, as one does in some awful nightmare when he visions someone he knows doing some perverse96 and abominable97 act. But what was most dreadful of all was Randy’s voice, humble53, low, submissive, modestly entreating98. Merrit’s voice would cut across the air like a gob of rasping phlegm, and then Randy’s voice — gentle, hesitant, deeply troubled — would come in from time to time in answer.
“Well, what’s the matter? Don’t you want the job?”
“Why — why, yes, you know I do, Dave — haw-w”— and Randy’s voice lifted a little in a troubled and protesting laugh.
“What’s the matter that you’re not getting the business?” “Why — haw-w!”— again the little laugh, embarrassed and troubled —“I thought I was ——”
“Well, you’re not!” that rasping voice cut in like a knife. “This district ought to deliver thirty per cent more business than you’re getting from it, and the Company is going to have it, too — or else! You deliver or you go right out on your can! See? The Company doesn’t give a damn about you! It’s after the business! You’ve been around a long time, but you don’t mean a damn bit more to the Company than anybody else! And you know what’s happened to a lot of other guys who got to feeling they were too big for their job — don’t you?”
“Why — why, yes, Dave — but — haw-w!” the little laugh again”— but — honestly, I never thought ——”
“We don’t give a damn what you never thought!” the brutal99 voice ripped in. “I’ve given you fair warning now! You get the business or out you go!”
The glazed glass door burst open violently and Merrit came striding out of the little partitioned office. When he saw George, he looked startled. Then he was instantly transformed. His plump and ruddy face became wreathed in smiles, and he cried out in a hearty tone:
“Well, well, well Look who’s here! If it’s not the old boy himself!”
Randy had followed him out, and Merrit now turned and winked humorously at him, in the manner of a man who is carrying on a little bantering100 byplay:
“Randy,” he said, “I believe George gets better looking from day to day. Has he broken any hearts yet?”
Randy tried to smile, grey-faced and haggardly.
“I bet you’re burning them up in the Big Town,” said Merrit, turning back to George. “And, say, I read that piece in the paper about your book. Great stuff, son! We’re all proud of you!”
He gave George a hearty slap on the back and turned away with an air of jaunty101 readiness, picked up his hat, and said cheerfully:
“Well, what d’ya say, folks? What about one of Margaret’s famous meals, out at the old homestead? Well, you can’t hurt my feelings. I’m ready if you are. Let’s go!”
And, smiling, ruddy, plump, cheerful, a perverted102 picture of amiable103 good will to all the world, he sauntered through the door. For a moment the two old friends just stood there looking at each other, white and haggard, with a bewildered expression in their eyes. In Randy’s eyes there was also a look of shame. With that instinct for loyalty104 which was one of the roots of his soul, he said:
“Dave’s a good fellow . . . You — you see, he’s got to do these things . . . He — he’s with the Company.”
George didn’t say anything. For as Randy spoke4, and George remembered all that Merrit had told him about the Company, a terrific picture flashed through his, mind. It was a picture he had seen in a gallery somewhere, portraying105 a long line of men stretching from the Great Pyramid to the very portals of great Pharaoh’s house, and great Pharaoh stood with a thonged106 whip in his hand and applied107 it unmercifully to the bare back and shoulders of the man in front of him, who was great Pharaoh’s chief overseer, and in the hand of the overseer was a whip of many tails which he unstintedly applied to the quivering back of the wretch108 before him, who was the chief overseer’s chief lieutenant25, and in the lieutenant’s hand a whip of rawhide109 which he laid vigourously on the quailing110 body of his head sergeant111, and in the sergeant’s hand a wicked flail112 with which he belaboured a whole company of groaning113 corporals, and in the hands of every corporal a knotted lash35 with which to whack114 a whole regiment115 of slaves, who pulled and hauled and bore burdens and toiled116 and sweated and built the towering structure of the pyramid.
So George didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He had just found out something about life that he had not known before.
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1
overlapped
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| _adj.重叠的v.部分重叠( overlap的过去式和过去分词 )；（物体）部份重叠；交叠；（时间上）部份重叠 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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4
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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5
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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6
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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8
beverages
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| n.饮料( beverage的名词复数 ) | |
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9
exudes
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的第三人称单数 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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computing
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| n.计算 | |
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complexity
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| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
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overhaul
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| v./n.大修，仔细检查 | |
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deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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lieutenants
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| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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restriction
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| n.限制，约束 | |
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restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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42
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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43
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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44
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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45
clarion
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| n.尖音小号声；尖音小号 | |
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46
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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47
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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48
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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49
piston
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| n.活塞 | |
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50
supervisor
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| n.监督人，管理人，检查员，督学，主管，导师 | |
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51
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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52
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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53
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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54
quota
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| n.（生产、进出口等的）配额，（移民的）限额 | |
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55
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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56
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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57
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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58
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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59
compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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60
allurements
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| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
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61
supervisors
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| n.监督者，管理者( supervisor的名词复数 ) | |
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62
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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63
morale
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| n.道德准则，士气，斗志 | |
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64
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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65
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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66
puffed
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| 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 | |
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67
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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68
opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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69
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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70
ply
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| v.(搬运工等)等候顾客，弯曲 | |
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71
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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72
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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73
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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74
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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75
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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77
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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78
imposingly
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79
walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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80
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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81
emanating
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的现在分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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82
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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83
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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84
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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85
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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86
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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87
interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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88
grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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89
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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90
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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91
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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92
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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93
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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94
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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95
varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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96
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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97
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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98
entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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99
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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100
bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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101
jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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102
perverted
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| adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
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103
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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104
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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105
portraying
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| v.画像( portray的现在分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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106
thonged
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| n.皮带；皮条；皮鞭；鞭梢vt.给…装上皮带；鞭打 | |
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107
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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108
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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109
rawhide
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| n.生牛皮 | |
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110
quailing
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的现在分词 ) | |
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111
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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112
flail
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| v.用连枷打；击打；n.连枷（脱粒用的工具） | |
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113
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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114
whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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115
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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116
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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