Below Mr. Frederick Jack the cross street was a narrow bluish lane between sheer cliffs of solid masonry8, but to the west the morning sunlight, golden, young, immensely strong and delicate, cut with sculptured sharpness at the walls of towering buildings. It shone with an unearthly rose-golden glow upon the upper tiers and summits of soaring structures whose lower depths were still sunk in shadow. It rested without violence or heat upon retreating pyramids of steel and stone, fumed9 at their peaks with fading wisps of smoke. It was reflected with dazzling brilliance10 from the panes11 of innumerable lofty windows, and it made the wall surfaces of harsh white-yellow brick look soft and warm, the colour of rose petals12.
Among the man-made peaks that stood silhouetted13 against the sky in this early sun were great hotels and clubs and office buildings bare of life. Mr. Jack could look straight into high office suites14 ready for their work: the morning light shaped patterns out of pale-hued desks and swivel-chairs of maple15, and it burnished16 flimsy partition woods and thick glazed17 doors. The offices stood silent, empty, sterile18, but they also seemed to have a kind of lonely expectation of the life that soon would well up swiftly from the streets to fill and use them. In the eerie19 light, with the cross street still bare of traffic and the office buildings empty, suddenly it seemed to Mr. Jack as if all life had been driven or extinguished from the city and as if those soaring obelisks20 were all that remained of a civilization that had been fabulous21 and legendary22.
With a shrug23 of impatience24 he shook off the moment’s aberration25 and peered down into the street again. It was empty as before, but already along Park Avenue the bright-hued cabs were drilling past the intersection26 like beetles27 in flight, most of them headed downtown in the direction of Grand Central Station. And everywhere, through that shining, living light, he could sense the slow-mounting roar of another furious day beginning. He stood there by his window, a man-mite poised28 high in the air upon a shelf of masonry, the miracle of God, a plump atom of triumphant29 man’s flesh, founded upon a rock of luxury at the centre of the earth’s densest30 web — but it was as the Prince of Atoms that he stood there and surveyed the scene, for he had bought the privileges of space, silence, light, and steel-walled security out of chaos31 with the ransom32 of an emperor, and he exulted33 in the price he paid for them. This grain of living dust had seen the countless34 insane accidents of shape and movement that daily passed the little window of his eye, but he felt no doubt or fear. He was not appalled36.
Another man, looking out upon the city in its early-morning nakedness, might have thought its forms inhuman37, monstrous38, and Assyrian in their insolence39. But not Mr. Frederick Jack. Indeed, if all those towers had been the monuments of his own special triumph, his pride and confidence and sense of ownership could hardly have been greater than they were. “My city,” he thought. “Mine.” It filled his heart with certitude and joy because he had learned, like many other men, to see, to marvel40, to accept, and not to ask disturbing questions. In that arrogant41 boast of steel and stone he saw a permanence surviving every danger, an answer, crushing and conclusive42, to every doubt.
He liked what was solid, rich, and spacious43, made to last. He liked the feeling of security and power that great buildings gave him. He liked especially the thick walls and floors of this apartment house. The boards neither creaked nor sagged44 when he walked across them; they were as solid as if they had been hewn in one single block from the heart of a gigantic oak. All this, he felt, was as it should be.
He was a man who liked order in everything. The rising tide of traffic which now began to stream below him in the streets was therefore pleasing to him. Even in the thrust and jostle of the crowd his soul rejoiced, for he saw order everywhere. It was order that made the millions swarm45 at morning to their work in little cells, and swarm again at evening from their work to other little cells. It was an order as inevitable46 as the seasons, and in it Mr. Jack read the same harmony and permanence which he saw in the entire visible universe round him.
Mr. Jack turned and glanced about his room. It was a spacious chamber47, twenty feet each way and twelve feet high, and in these noble proportions was written quietly a message of luxurious48 wellbeing and assurance. In the exact centre of the wall that faced the door stood his bed, a chaste49 four-poster of the Revolutionary period, and beside it a little table holding a small clock, a few books, and a lamp. In the centre of another wall was an antique chest of drawers, and tastefully arranged about the room were a gate-legged table, with a row of books and the latest magazines upon it, two fine old Windsor chairs, and a comfortable, well-padded east chair. Several charming French prints hung on the walls. On the floor was a thick and heavy carpet of dull grey. These were all the furnishings. The total effect was one of modest and almost austere50 simplicity51, subtly combined with a sense of spaciousness52, wealth, and power.
The owner of this room read its message with pleasure, and turned once more to the open window. With fingers pressed against his swelling53 breast, he breathed in a deep draught54 of the fresh, living air of morning. It was laden55 with the thrilling compost of the city, a fragrance56 delicately blended of many things. There was, strangely, the smell of earth, moist and somehow flowerful, tinged57 faintly with the salt reek58 of tidal waters and the fresh river smell, rank and a little rotten, and spiced among these odours was the sultry aroma59 of strong boiling coffee. This incense-laden air carried a tonic60 threat of conflict and of danger, and a leaping, winelike prophecy of power, wealth, and love. Mr. Jack breathed in this vital ether slowly, with heady joy, sensing again the unknown menace and delight it always brought to him.
All at once a trembling, faint and instant, passed in the earth below him. He paused, frowning, and an old unquiet feeling to which he could not give a name stirred in his heart. He did not like things to shake and tremble. When he had first come here to live and had awaked at morning thinking he felt a slight vibration61 in the massive walls around him, a tremor62 so brief and distant that he could not be certain of it, he had asked a few questions of the doorman who stood at the Park Avenue entrance of the building. The man told him that the great apartment house had been built across two depths of railway tunnels, and that all Mr. Jack had felt was the vibration that came from the passing of a train deep in the bowels63 of the earth. The man assured him that it was all quite safe, that the very trembling in the walls, in fact, was just another proof of safety.
Still, Mr. Jack did not like it. The news disturbed him vaguely64. He would have liked it better if the building had been anchored upon the solid rock. So now, as he felt the slight tremor in the walls once more, he paused, frowned, and waited till it stopped. Then he smiled.
“Great trains pass under me,” he thought. “Morning, bright morning, and still they come — all the boys who have dreamed dreams in the little towns. They come for ever to the city. Yes, even now they pass below me, wild with joy, mad with hope, drunk with their thoughts of victory. For what? For what? Glory, huge profits, and a girl! All of them come looking for the same magic wand. Power. Power. Power.”
Thoroughly65 awake now, Mr. Jack closed the window and moved briskly across his chamber to the bathroom.’ He liked lavish66 plumbing67, thick with creamy porcelain68 and polished silver fixtures69. For a moment he stood before the deep wash-basin with bared lips, looking at himself in the mirror, and regarding with considerable satisfaction the health and soundness of his strong front teeth. Then he brushed them earnestly with stiff, hard bristles70 and two inches of firm, thick paste, turning his head from side to side round the brush and glaring at his image in the glass until he foamed71 agreeably at the mouth with a lather72 that tasted of fresh mint. This done, he spat73 it out and let running water wash it down the drain, and then he rinsed74 his mouth and throat with gently biting antiseptic.
He liked the tidy, crowded array of lotions76, cream, unguents, bottles, tubes, jars, brushes, and shaving implements77 that covered the shelf of thick blue glass above the basin. He lathered78 his face heavily with a large silver-handled shaving-brush, rubbing the lather in with firm finger-tips, brushing and stroking till his jaws79 were covered with a smooth, thick layer of warm shaving cream. Then he took the razor in his hand and opened it. He used a straight razor, and he always kept it in excellent condition. At the crucial moment, just before the first long downward stroke, he flourished slightly forward with his plump arms and shoulders, raising the glittering blade aloft in one firm hand, his legs widened stockily, crouching80 gently at the knees, his lathered face craned carefully to one side and upwards81, and his eyes rolled towards the ceiling, as if he were getting braced82 and ready beneath a heavy burden. Then, holding one cheek delicately between two arched fingers, he advanced deliberately83 upon it with the gleaming blade. He grunted85 gently, with satisfaction, at the termination of the stroke. The blade had mown smoothly86, leaving a perfect swath of pink, clean flesh across his face from cheek to jowl. He exulted in the slight tug87 and rasping pull of wiry stubble against the deadly sharpness of the razor, and in the relentless88 sweep and triumph of the steel.
And while he shaved Mr. Jack occupied his mind with pleasant thoughts of all the good things in his life.
He thought about his clothes. Elegant in dress, always excellently correct, he wore fresh garments every day. No cotton touched him. He bought underclothes of the finest silk, and he had more than forty suits from London. Every morning he examined his wardrobe studiously, choosing with care and with a good eye for harmony the shoes, socks, shirt, and necktie he would wear, and before he selected a suit he was sometimes lost in thought for several minutes. He loved to open wide the door of his great closet and see his suits hanging there in rows in all their groomed89 and regimented elegance90. He liked the strong, clean smell of honest cloth, and in those forty several shapes and colours he saw as many pleasing reflections and variations of his own character. They filled him, as did everything about him, with a sense of morning confidence, joy, and vigour91.
For breakfast he would have orange juice, two leghorn eggs, soft boiled, two slices of crisp, thin toast, and tasty little segments of pink Praguer ham, which looked so pretty on fresh parsley sprigs. And he would have coffee, strong coffee, cup after cup of it. So fortified92, he would face the world with cheerful strength, ready for whatever chance the day might bring him.
The smell of earth which he had caught in the air this morning was good, and the remembrance of it laid a soothing93 unction on his soul. Although city-bred, Mr. Jack was as sensitive to the charms of Mother Earth as any man alive. He liked the cultivated forms of nature — the swarded lawns of great estates, gay regiments94 of brilliant garden flowers, and rich masses of clumped95 shrubbery. All these things delighted him. The call of the simple life had grown stronger every year, and he had built a big country house in Westchester County.
He liked the more expensive forms of sport. He would frequently go out in the country to play golf, and he loved bright sunlight on the rich velvet96 of the greens and the new-mown smell of fairways. And afterwards, when he had stood below the bracing97 drive of the shower and had felt the sweat of competition wash cleanly from his well-set form, he liked to loaf upon the cool veranda98 of the club and talk about his score, joke and laugh, pay or collect his bets, and drink good Scotch99 with other men of note. And he liked to watch his country’s flag flap languidly upon the tall white pole because it looked so pretty there.
Mr. Jack also liked the ruder and more natural forms of beauty. He liked to see tall grasses billowing on a hillside, and he liked old shaded roads that wound away to quietness from driven glares of speed and concrete. He was touched by the cosmic sadness of leafy orange, gold, and russet brown in mid-October, and he had seen the evening light upon the old red of a mill and felt deep stillness in his heart (“all — could anyone believe it? — within thirty miles of New York City”). On those occasions the life of the metropolis100 had seemed very far away. And often he had paused to pluck a flower or stand beside a brook101 in thought. But after sighing with regret as, among such scenes, he thought of the haste and folly102 of man’s life, Mr. Jack always came back to the city. For life was real, and life was earnest, and Mr. Jack was a business man.
He was a business man, so of course he liked to gamble. What is business but a gamble? Will prices go up or down? Will Congress do this or that? Will there be war in some far corner of the earth, and a shortage of some essential raw material? What will the ladies wear next year — big hats or little ones, long dresses or short? You make your guess and back it with your money, and if you don’t guess right often enough you don’t remain a business man. So Mr. Jack liked to gamble, and he gambled like the business man he was. He gambled every day upon the price of stocks. And at night he often gambled at his club. It was no piker’s game he played. He never turned a hair about a thousand dollars. Large sums did not appal35 him. He was not frightened by Amount and Number. That is why he liked great crowds. That is why the beetling104 cliffs of immense and cruel architectures lapped his soul in strong security. When he saw a ninety-storey building he was not one to fall down grovelling105 in the dust, and beat a maddened brain with fists, and cry out: “Woe106! 0 woe is me!” No. Every cloud-lost spire107 of masonry was a talisman108 of power, a monument to the everlasting109 empire of American business. It made him feel good. For that empire was his faith, his fortune, and his life. He had a fixed110 place in it.
Yet his neck was not stiff, nor his eye hard. Neither was he very proud. For he had seen the men who lean upon their sills at evening, and those who swarm from rat holes in the ground, and often he had wondered what their lives were like.
Mr. Jack finished shaving and rinsed his glowing face, first with hot water, then with cold. He dried it with a fresh towel, and he rubbed it carefully with a fragrant111, gently stinging lotion75. This done, he stood for a moment, satisfied, regarding his image, softly caressing112 the velvet texture113 of dose-shaved, ruddy cheeks with stroking fingertips. Then he turned briskly away, ready for his bath.
He liked the morning plunge114 in his great sunken tub, the sensual warmth of sudsy water, and the sharp, aromatic115 cleanness of the bath salts. He had an eye for aesthetic116 values, too, and he liked to loll back in the tub and watch the dance of water spangles in their magic shift and play upon the creamy ceiling. Most of all, he liked to come up pink and dripping, streaked117 liberally with tarry-scented soap, and then he loved the stinging drive and shock of needled spray, the sense of hardihood and bracing conflict, and he liked the glow of abundant health as he stepped forth118, draining down upon a thick cork119 mat, and vigorously rubbed himself dry in the folds of a big, crashy bath towel.
All this he now anticipated eagerly as he let fall with a full thud the heavy silver-headed waste-pipe stopper. He turned the hot-water tap on as far as it would go, and watched a moment as the tumbling water began smokily to fill the tub with its thick boiling gurgle. Then, scuffing120 the slippers from his feet, he rapidly stripped off his silk pyjamas121. He felt with pride the firm-swelling flexor muscle of his upper arm, and observed with keen satisfaction the reflection in the mirror of his plump, well-conditioned body. He was well-moulded and solid-looking, with hardly a trace of unwholesome fat upon him — a little undulance, perhaps, across the kidneys, a mere122 suggestion of a bay about the waist, but not enough to cause concern, and far less than he had seen on many men twenty years his junior. Content, deep and glowing, filled him. He turned the water off and tested it with a finger, which he jerked back with an exclamation123 of hurt surprise. In his self-absorption he had forgotten the cold water, so now he turned it on and waited while it seethed124 with tiny milky125 bubbles and sent waves of trembling light across the hot blue surface of his bath. At last he tried it with a cautious toe and found it tempered to his liking126. He shut the water off.
And now, stepping back a pace or two, he gripped the warm tiling of the floor with his bare toes, straightened up with military smartness, drew in a deep breath, and vigorously began his morning exercises. With stiffened127 legs he bent128 strongly towards the floor, grunting129 as his groping finger-tips just grazed the tiling. Then he swung into punctual rhythms, counting: “One! — Two! — Three! — Four!” as his body moved. And all the time while his arms beat their regular strokes through the air, his thoughts continued to amble103 down the pleasant groove130 that his life had worn for them.
To-night was the great party, and he liked the brilliant gaiety of such gatherings131. He was a wise man, too, who knew the world and the city well, and, although kind, he was not one to miss the fun of a little harmless byplay, the verbal thrust and parry of the clever ones, or the baiting of young innocents by those who were wily at the game. Something of the sort could usually be counted on when all kinds of people were brought together at these affairs. It gave a spice and zest132 to things. Some yokel133, say, fresh from the rural districts, all hands and legs and awkwardness, hooked and wriggling134 on a cruel and cunning word — a woman’s, preferably, because women were so swift and deft135 in matters of this nature. But there were men as well whose skill was great — pampered136 lap-dogs of rich houses, or feisty, nimble-witted little she-men whose mincing137 tongues were always good for one or two shrewd thrusts of poison in a hayseed’s hide. There was something in the face of a fresh-baited country boy as it darkened to a slow, smouldering glow of shame, surprise, and anger and sought with clumsy and inept138 words to retort upon the wasp139 which had stung it and winged away — something so touching140 — that Mr. Jack, when he saw it, felt a sense of almost paternal141 tenderness for the hapless victim, a delightful142 sense of youth and innocence143 in himself. It was almost as if he were revisiting his own youth.
But enough was enough. Mr. Jack was neither a cruel nor an immoderate man. He liked the gay glitter of the night, the thrill and fever of high stakes, and the swift excitements of new pleasures. He liked the theatre and saw all the best plays, and the better, smarter, wittier144 revues — the ones with sharp, satiric145 lines, good dancing, and Gershwin music. He liked the shows his wife designed because she designed them, he was proud of her, and he enjoyed those evenings of ripe culture at the Guild146. He also went to prize-fights in his evening clothes, and once when he came home he had the red blood of a champion on the white boiled bosom147 of his shirt. Few men could say as much.
He liked the social swim, and the presence of the better sort of actors, artists, writers, and wealthy, cultivated Jews round his table. He had a kind heart and a loyal nature. His purse was open to a friend in need. He kept a lavish table and a royal cellar, and his family was the apple of his eye.
But he also liked the long velvet backs of lovely women, and the flash of jewellery about their necks. He liked women to be seductive, bright with gold and diamonds to set off the brilliance of their evening gowns. He liked women cut to fashion, with firm breasts, long necks, slender legs, flat hips148, and unsuspected depth and undulance. He liked their faces pale, their hair of bronze-gold wire, their red mouths thin, a little cruel, their eyes long, slanting149, cat-grey, and lidded carefully. He liked a frosted cocktail150 shaker in a lady’s hands, and he liked a voice hoarse-husky, city-wise, a trifle weary, ironic151, faintly insolent152, that said:
“Well! What happened to you, darling? I thought that You would never get here.”
He liked all the things that men are fond of. All of them he had enjoyed himself, each in its proper time and place, and he expected everyone to act as well as he. But ripeness with Mr. Jack was everything, and he always knew the time to stop. His ancient and Hebraic spirit was tempered with a classic sense of moderation. He prized the virtue153 of decorum highly. He knew the value of the middle way.
He was not a man to wear his heart upon his overcoat, nor risk his life on every corner, nor throw himself away upon a word, nor spend his strength on the impulse of a moment’s wild belief. This was such madness as the Gentiles knew. But, this side idolatry and madness he would go as far for friendship’s sake as any man. He would go with a friend up to the very edge of ruin and defeat, and he would even try to hold him back. But once he saw a man was mad, and not to be persuaded by calm judgment154, he was done with him. He would leave him where he was, although regretfully. Are matters helped if the whole crew drowns together with a single drunken sailor? He thought not. He could put a world of sincere meaning in the three words: “What a pity!”
Yes, Mr. Frederick Tack155 was kind and temperate156. He had found life pleasant, and had won from it the secret of wise living. And the secret of wise living was founded in a graceful157 compromise, a tolerant acceptance. If a man wanted to live in this world without getting his pockets picked, he had better learn how to use his eyes and ears on what was going on around him. But if he wanted to live in this world without getting hit over the head, and without all the useless pain, grief, terror, and bitterness that mortify158 human flesh, he had also better learn how not to use his eyes and ears. This may sound difficult, but it had not been so for Mr. Jack. Perhaps some great inheritance of suffering, the long, dark ordeal159 of his race, had left him, as a precious distillation160, this gift of balanced understanding. At any rate, he had not learned it, because it could not be taught: he had been born with it.
Therefore, he was not a man to rip the sheets in darkness or beat his knuckles161 raw against a wall. He would not madden furiously in the envenomed passages of night, nor would he ever be carried smashed and bloody162 from the stews163. A woman’s ways were no doubt hard to bear, but love’s bitter mystery had broken no bones for Mr. Jack, and, so far as he was concerned, it could not murder sleep the way an injudicious wiener schitzel could, or that young Gentile fool, drunk again, probably, ringing the telephone at one a.m. to ask to speak to Esther.
Mr. Jack’s brow was darkened as he thought of it. He muttered wordlessly. If fools are fools, let them be fools where their folly will not injure or impede164 the slumbers165 of a serious man.
Yes, Men could rob, lie, murder, swindle, trick, and cheat — the whole world knew as much. And women — well, they were women, and there was no help for that. Mr. Jack had also known something of the pain and folly that twist the indignant soul of youth — it was too bad, of course, too bad. But regardless of all this, the day was day and men must work, the night was night and men must sleep, and it was, he felt, intolerable——
“One!”
Red of face, he bent stiffly, with a grunt84, until his fingers grazed the rich cream tiling of the bathroom floor.
—intolerable!——
“Two!”
He straightened sharply, his hands at his sides.
—that a man with serious work to do——
“Three!”
His arms shot up to full stretching height above his head, and came swiftly down again until he held clenched fists against his breast.
—should be pulled out of his bed in the middle of the night by a crazy young fool!——
“Four!”
His closed fists shot outwards166 in a strong driving movement, and came back to his sides again.
—It was intolerable, and, by God, be had half a mind to tell her so!
His exercises ended, Mr. Jack stepped carefully into the luxurious sunken tub and settled his body slowly in its crystal-blue depths. A sigh, long, lingering, full of pleasure, expired upon his lips.
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收听单词发音
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1
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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suites
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| n.套( suite的名词复数 )；一套房间；一套家具；一套公寓 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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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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sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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obelisks
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| n.方尖石塔，短剑号，疑问记号( obelisk的名词复数 ) | |
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fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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aberration
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| n.离开正路，脱离常规，色差 | |
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intersection
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| n.交集，十字路口，交叉点；[计算机] 交集 | |
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beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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densest
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| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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35
appal
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| vt.使胆寒，使惊骇 | |
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36
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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37
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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38
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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39
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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40
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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41
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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42
conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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43
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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44
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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45
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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46
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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47
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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48
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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49
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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50
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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51
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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52
spaciousness
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| n.宽敞 | |
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53
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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54
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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55
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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56
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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57
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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59
aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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60
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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61
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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62
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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63
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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64
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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65
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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66
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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67
plumbing
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| n.水管装置；水暖工的工作；管道工程v.用铅锤测量（plumb的现在分词）；探究 | |
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68
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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69
fixtures
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| （房屋等的）固定装置( fixture的名词复数 )； 如（浴盆、抽水马桶）； 固定在某位置的人或物； （定期定点举行的）体育活动 | |
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70
bristles
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| 短而硬的毛发，刷子毛( bristle的名词复数 ) | |
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71
foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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72
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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73
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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74
rinsed
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| v.漂洗( rinse的过去式和过去分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
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75
lotion
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| n.洗剂 | |
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76
lotions
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| n.洗液，洗剂，护肤液( lotion的名词复数 ) | |
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77
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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78
lathered
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| v.（指肥皂）形成泡沫( lather的过去式和过去分词 )；用皂沫覆盖；狠狠地打 | |
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79
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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80
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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81
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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82
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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83
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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84
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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85
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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86
smoothly
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|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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87
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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88
relentless
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|
| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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89
groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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90
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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91
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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92
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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93
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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94
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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95
clumped
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| adj.[医]成群的v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的过去式和过去分词 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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96
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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97
bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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98
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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99
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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100
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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101
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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102
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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103
amble
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| vi.缓行，漫步 | |
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104
beetling
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| adj.突出的，悬垂的v.快速移动( beetle的现在分词 ) | |
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105
grovelling
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| adj.卑下的，奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 )；趴 | |
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106
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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107
spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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108
talisman
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| n.避邪物，护身符 | |
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109
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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110
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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111
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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112
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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113
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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114
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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115
aromatic
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| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
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116
aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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117
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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118
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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119
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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120
scuffing
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| n.刮[磨，擦，划]伤v.使磨损( scuff的现在分词 )；拖着脚走 | |
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121
pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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122
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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123
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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124
seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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125
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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126
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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127
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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128
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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129
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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130
groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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131
gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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132
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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133
yokel
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| n.乡下人；农夫 | |
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134
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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135
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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136
pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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138
inept
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| adj.不恰当的，荒谬的，拙劣的 | |
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139
wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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140
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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141
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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142
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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143
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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144
wittier
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| 机智的，言辞巧妙的，情趣横生的( witty的比较级 ) | |
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145
satiric
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| adj.讽刺的，挖苦的 | |
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146
guild
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| n.行会，同业公会，协会 | |
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147
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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148
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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149
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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150
cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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151
ironic
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|
| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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152
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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153
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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154
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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155
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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156
temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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157
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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158
mortify
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| v.克制，禁欲，使受辱 | |
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159
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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160
distillation
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| n.蒸馏，蒸馏法 | |
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161
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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162
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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163
stews
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| n.炖煮的菜肴( stew的名词复数 )；烦恼，焦虑v.炖( stew的第三人称单数 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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164
impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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165
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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166
outwards
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| adj.外面的，公开的，向外的；adv.向外；n.外形 | |
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