Bond watched the big green turtle-backed island grow on the horizon and the water below him turn from the dark blue of the Cuba Deep to the azure1 and milk of the inshore shoals. Then they were over the North Shore, over its rash of millionaire hotels, and crossing the high mountains of the interior. The scattered2 dice3 of small-holdings showed on the slopes and in clearings in the jungle, and the setting sun flashed gold on the bright worms of tumbling rivers and streams. 'Xaymaca* the Arawak Indians had called it-'The Land of Hills and Rivers'. Bond's heart lifted with the beauty of one of the most fertile islands in the world.
The other side of the mountains was in deep violet shadow. Lights were already twinkling in the foothills and spangling the streets of Kingston, but, beyond, the far arm of the harbour and the airport were still touched with the sun against which the Port Royal lighthouse blinked ineffectually. Now the Constellation5 was getting its nose down into a wide sweep beyond the harbour. There was a slight thump6 as the tricycle landing gear extended under the aircraft and locked into position, and a shrill7 hydraulic8 whine9 as the brake flaps slid out of the trailing edge of the wings. Slowly the great aircraft turned in again towards the land and for a moment the setting sun poured gold into the cabin. Then, the plane had dipped below the level of the Blue Mountains and was skimming down towards the single north-south runway. There was a glimpse of a road and telephone wires. Then the concrete, scarred with black skid-marks, was under the belly10 of the plane and there was the soft double thump of a perfect landing and the roar of reversing props11 as they taxied in towards the low white airport buildings.
The sticky fingers of the tropics brushed Bond's face as he left the aircraft and walked over to Health and Immigration.
He knew that by the time he had got through Customs he would be sweating. He didn't mind. After the rasping cold of London, the stuffy12, velvet13 heat was easily bearable.
Bond's passport described him as 'Import and Export Merchant'.
"What company, sir?"
"Universal Export."
"Are you here on business or pleasure, sir?"
"Pleasure."
"I hope you enjoy your stay, sir." The Negro immigration officer handed Bond his passport with indifference14.
"Thank you."
Bond walked out into the Customs hall. At once he saw the tall brown-skinned man against the barrier. He was wearing the same old faded blue shirt and probably the same khaki twill trousers he had been wearing when Bond first met him five years before.
"Quarrel!"
From behind the barrier the Cayman Islander gave a broad grin. He lifted his right forearm across his eyes in the old salute16 of the West Indians. "How you, cap'n?" he called delightedly.
"I'm fine," said Bond. "Just wait till I get my bag through. Got the car?"
"Sure, cap'n."
The Customs officer who, like most men from the waterfront, knew Quarrel, chalked Bond's bag without opening it and Bond picked it up and went out through the barrier. Quarrel took it from him and held out his right hand. Bond took the warm dry calloused17 paw and looked into the dark grey eyes that showed descent from a Cromwellian soldier or a pirate of Morgan's time. "You haven't changed, Quarrel," he said affectionately. "How's the turtle fishing?"
"Not so bad, cap'n, an' not so good. Much de same as always." He looked critically at Bond. "Yo been sick, or somepun?"
Bond was surprised. "As a matter of fact I have. But I've been fit for weeks. What made you say that?"
Quarrel was embarrassed. "Sorry, cap'n," he said, thinking he might have offended Bond. "Dere some pain lines in yo face since de las' time."
"Oh well," said Bond. "It was nothing much. But I could do with a spell of your training. I'm not as fit as I ought to be."
"Shooting, cap'n."
They were moving towards the exit when there came the sharp crack and flash of a Press camera. A pretty Chinese girl in Jamaican dress was lowering her Speed Graphic18. She came up to them. She said with synthetic19 charm, "Thank you, gentlemen. I am from the Daily Gleaner20." She glanced down at a list in her hand. "Mister Bond, isn't it? And how long will you be with us, Mister Bond?"
Bond was offhand21. This was a bad start. "In transit," he said shortly. "I think you'll find there were more interesting people on the plane."
"Oh no, I'm sure not, Mister Bond. You look very important. And what hotel will you be staying at?"
Damn, thought Bond. He said "Myrtle Bank" and moved on.
"Thank you, Mister Bond," said the tinkling22 voice. "I hope you'll enjoy…"
They were outside. As they walked towards the parking place Bond said, "Ever seen that girl at the airport before?"
Quarrel reflected. "Reck'n not, cap'n. But de Gleaner have plenty camera gals24."
Bond was vaguely25 worried. There was no earthly reason why his picture should be wanted by the Press. It was five years since his last adventures on the island, and anyway his name had been kept out of the papers.
They got to the car. It was a black Sunbeam Alpine26. Bond looked sharply at it and then at the number plate. Strangways's car. What the hell? "Where did you get this, Quarrel?"
"ADC tell me fe to take him, cap'n. Him say hit de only spare car dey have. Why, cap'n? Him no good?"
"Oh, it's all right, Quarrel," said Bond resignedly. "Come on, let's get going."
Bond got into the passenger seat. It was entirely27 his fault. He might have guessed at the chance of getting this car. But it would certainly put the finger on him and on what he was doing in Jamaica if anyone happened to be interested.
They moved off down the long cactus-fringed road towards the distant lights of Kingston. Normally, Bond would have sat and enjoyed the beauty of it all-the steady zing of the crickets, the rush of warm, scented28 air, the ceiling of stars, the necklace of yellow lights shimmering29 across the harbour-but now he was cursing his carelessness and knowing what he shouldn't have done.
What he had done was to send one signal through the Colonial Office to the Governor. In it he had first asked that the ADC should get Quarrel over from the Cayman Islands for an indefinite period on a salary of ten pounds a week. Quarrel had been with Bond on his last adventure in Jamaica. He was an invaluable30 handyman with all the fine seaman's qualities of the Cayman Islander, and he was a passport into the lower strata31 of coloured life which would otherwise be closed to Bond. Everybody loved him and he was a splendid companion. Bond knew that Quarrel was vital if he was to get anywhere on the Strangways case-whether it was a case or just a scandal. Then Bond had asked for a single room and shower at the Blue Hills Hotel, for the loan of a car and for Quarrel to meet him with the car at the airport. Most of this had been wrong. In particular Bond should have taken a taxi to his hotel and made contact with Quarrel later. Then he would have seen the car and had a chance to change it.
As it was, reflected Bond, he might just as well have advertised his visit and its purpose in the Gleaner. He sighed. It was the mistakes one made at the beginning of a case that were the worst. They were the irretrievable ones, the ones that got you off on the wrong foot, that gave the enemy the first-game. But was there an enemy? Wasn't he being over-cautious? On an impulse Bond turned in his seat. A hundred yards behind were two dim sidelights. Most Jamaicans drive with their headlights full on. Bond turned back. He said, "Quarrel. At the end of the Palisadoes, where the left fork goes to Kingston and right to Morant, I want you to turn quickly down the ' Morant road and stop at once and turn your lights off. Right? And now go like hell."
"Okay, cap'n." Quarrel's voice sounded pleased. He put his foot down to the floorboards. The little car gave a deep growl32 and tore off down the white road.
Now they were at the end of the straight. The car skidded33 round the curve where the corner of the harbour bit into the land. Another five hundred yards and they would be at the intersection34. Bond looked back. There was no sign of the other car. Here was the signpost. Quarrel did a racing35 change and hurled36 the car round on a tight lock. He pulled in to the side and dowsed his lights. Bond turned and waited. At once he heard the roar of a big car at speed. Lights blazed on, looking for them. Then the car was past and tearing on towards Kingston. Bond had time to notice that it was a big American type taxicab and that there was no one in it but the driver. Then it was gone.
The dust settled slowly. They sat for ten minutes saying nothing. Then Bond told Quarrel to turn the car and take the Kingston road. He said, "I think that car was interested in us, Quarrel. You don't drive an empty taxi back from the airport. It's an expensive run. Keep a watch out. He may find we've fooled him and be waiting for us."
"Sho ting, cap'n," said Quarrel happily. This was just the sort of life he had hoped for when he got Bond's message.
They came into the stream of Kingston traffic-buses, cars, horse-drawn carts, pannier-laden donkeys down from the hills, and the hand-drawn barrows selling violent coloured drinks. In the crush it was impossible to say if they were being followed. They turned off to the right and up towards the hills. There were many cars behind them. Any one of them could have been the American taxi. They drove for a quarter of an hour up to Halfway37 Tree and then on to the Junction38 Road, the main road across the island. Soon there was a neon sign of a green palm tree and underneath39 'Blue Hills. THE hotel'. They drove in and up the drive lined with neatly40 rounded bushes of bougainvillaea.
A hundred yards higher up the road the black taxi waved the following drivers on and pulled in to the left. It made a U-turn in a break in the traffic and swept back down the hill towards Kingston.
The Blue Hills was a comfortable old-fashioned hotel with modern trimmings. Bond was welcomed with deference41 because his reservation had been made by King's House. He was shown to a fine corner room with a balcony looking out over the distant sweep of Kingston harbour. Thankfully he" took off his London clothes, now moist with perspiration42, and went into the glass-fronted shower and turned the cold water full on and stood under it for five minutes during which he washed his hair to remove the last dirt of big-city life. Then he pulled on a pair of Sea Island cotton shorts and, with sensual pleasure at the warm soft air on his nakedness, unpacked43 his things and rang for the waiter.
Bond ordered a double gin and tonic44 and one whole green lime. When the drink came he cut the lime in half, dropped the two squeezed halves into the long glass, almost filled the glass with ice cubes and then poured in the tonic. He took the drink out on to the balcony, and sat and looked out across the spectacular view. He thought how wonderful it was to be away from headquarters, and from London, and from hospitals, and to be here, at this moment, doing what he was doing and knowing, as all his senses told him, that he was on a good tough case again.
He sat for a while, luxuriously45, letting the gin relax him. He ordered another and drank it down. It was seven-fifteen. He had arranged for Quarrel to pick him up at seven-thirty. They were going to have dinner together. Bond had asked Quarrel to suggest a place. After a moment of embarrassment46, Quarrel had said that whenever he wanted to enjoy himself in Kingston he went to a waterfront nightspot called the Joy Boat. "Hit no great shakes, cap'n," he had said apologetically, "but da food an' drinks an" music is good and I got a good fren' dere. Him owns de joint47. Dey calls him 'Pus-Feller' seein' how him once fought wit' a big hoctopus."
Bond smiled to himself at the way Quarrel, like most West Indians, added an 'h' where it wasn't needed and took it off when it was. He went into his room and dressed in his old dark blue tropical worsted suit, a sleeveless white cotton shirt and a black knitted tie, looked in the glass to see that the Walther didn't show under his armpit and went down and out to where the car was waiting.
They swooped48 down quietly through the soft singing dusk into Kingston and turned to the left along the harbour side. They passed one or two smart restaurants and night clubs from which came the throb49 and twang of calypso music. There was a stretch of private houses that dwindled50 into a poor-class shopping centre and then into shacks51. Then, where the road curved away from the sea, there was a blaze of golden neon in the shape of a Spanish galleon52 above green lettering that said 'The Joy Boat'. They pulled into a parking place and Bond followed Quarrel through the gate into a small garden of palm trees growing out of lawn. At the end was the beach and the sea. Tables were dotted about under the palms, and in the centre was a small deserted54 cement dance floor to one side of which a calypso trio in sequined scarlet55 shirts was softly improvising56 on 'Take her to Jamaica where the rum comes from'.
Only half the tables were filled, mostly by coloured people. There was a sprinkling of British and American sailors with their girls. An immensely fat Negro in a smart white dinner jacket left one of the tables and came to meet them.
"Hi, Mister Q. Long time no see. Nice table for two?"
"That's right, Pus-Feller. Closer to da kitchen dan da music."
The big man chuckled57. He led them down towards the sea and placed them at a quiet table under a palm tree that grew out of the base of the restaurant building. "Drinks gemmun?"
Bond ordered his gin and tonic with a lime, and Quarrel a Red Stripe beer. They scanned the menu and both decided58 on broiled59 lobster60 followed by a rare steak with native vegetables.
The drinks came. The glasses were dripping with con- * densation. The small fact reminded Bond of other times in hot climates. A few yards away the sea lisped on the flat sand. The three-piece began playing 'Kitch'. Above them the palm fronds61 clashed softly in the night breeze. A gecko chuckled somewhere in the garden. Bond thought of the London he had left the day before. He said, "I like this place, Quarrel."
Quarrel was pleased. "Him a good fren of mine, da Pus-Feller. Him knows mostly what goes hon hin Kingston case you got hany questions, cap'n. Him come from da Caymans. Him an' me once share a boat. Then him go hoff one day catching62 boobies' heggs hat Crab63 Key. Went swimmin' to a rock for more heggs an' dis big hoctopus get him. Dey mos'ly small fellers roun' here but dey come bigger at da Crab seein' how its alongside de Cuba Deep, da deepest waters roun' dese parts. Pus-Feller have himself a bad time wit dis hanimal. Bust64 one lung cuttin" hisself free. Dat scare him an' him sell me his half of da boat an' come to Kingston. Dat were 'fore15 da war. . Now him rich mail whiles I go hon fishin'." Quarrel chuckled at the quirk65 of fate.
"Crab Key," said Bond. "What sort of a place is that?"
Quarrel looked at him sharply. "Dat a bad luck place now, cap'n," he said shortly. "Chinee gemmun buy hit durin' da war and bring in men and dig bird-dirt. Don' let nobody land dere and don' let no one get hoff. We gives it a wide bert'."
"Why's that?"
"Him have plenty watchmen. An' guns-machine guns. An' a radar66. An' a spottin' plane. Frens o' mine have landed dere and him never been seen again. Dat Chinee keep him island plenty private. Tell da trut', cap'n," Quarrel was apologetic, "dat Crab Key scare me plenty."
Bond said thoughtfully, "Well, well."
The food came. They ordered another round of drinks and ate. While they ate, Bond gave Quarrel an outline of the Strangways case. Quarrel listened carefully, occasionally asking questions. He was particularly interested in the birds on Crab Key, and what the watchmen had said, and how the plane was supposed to have crashed. Finally he pushed his plate away. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He took out a cigarette and lit it. He leant forward. "Cap'n," he said softly, "I no mind if hit was birds or butterflies or bees. If dey was on Crab Key and da Commander was stickin' his nose into da business, yo kin4 bet yo bottom dollar him been mashed68. Him and him girl. Da Chinee mash67 dem for sho."
Bond looked carefully into the urgent grey eyes. "What makes you so certain?"
Quarrel spread his hands. To him the answerwas simple. "Dat Chinee love him privacy. Him want be left alone. I know him kill ma frens order keep folk away from da Crab. Him a mos' powerful man. Him kill hanyone what hinterfere with him."
"Why?"
"Don' rightly know, cap'n," said Quarrel indifferently."People dem want different tings in dis world. An' what dem want sufficient dem gits."
A glint of light caught the corner of Bond's eye. He turned quickly. The Chinese girl from the airport was standing69 in the nearby shadows. Now she was dressed in a tight-fitting sheath of black satin slashed70 up one side almost to her hip71.
She had a Leica with a flash attachment72 in one hand. The other was in a leather case at her side. The hand came out holding a flashbulb. The girl slipped the base into her mouth to wet it and improve the contact and made to screw it into the reflector.
"Get that girl," said Bond quickly.
In two strides Quarrel was up with her. He held out his hand. "Evenin", missy," he said softly.
The girl smiled. She let the Leica hang on the thin strap73 round her neck. She took Quarrel's hand. Quarrel swung her round like a ballet dancer. Now he had her hand behind her back and she was in the crook74 of his arm.
She looked up at him angrily. "Don't. You're hurting."
Quarrel smiled down into the flashing dark eyes in the pale, almond-shaped face. "Cap'n like you take a drink wit" we," he said soothingly75. He came back to the table, moving the girl along with him. He hooked a chair out with his foot and sat her down beside him, keeping the grip on her wrist behind her back. They sat bolt upright, like quarrelling lovers.
Bond looked into the pretty, angry little face. "Good evening. What are you doing here? Why do you want another picture of me?"
"I'm doing the nightspots," the Cupid's bow of a mouth parted persuasively76. "The first picture of you didn't come out. Tell this man to leave me alone."
"So you work for the Gleaner? What's your name?"
"I won't tell you."
Bond cocked an eyebrow77 at Quarrel.
Quarrel's eyes narrowed. His hand behind the girl's back turned slowly. The girl struggled like an eel78, her teeth clenched79 on her lower lip. Quarrel went on twisting. Suddenly she said "Ow!" sharply and gasped80, "I'll tell I" Quarrel eased his grip. The girl looked furiously at Bond: "Annabel Chung."
Bond said to Quarrel, "Call the Pus-Feller."
Quarrel picked up a fork with his free hand and clanged it against a glass. The big Negro hurried up.
Bond looked up at him. "Ever seen this girl before?"
"Yes, boss. She come here sometimes. She bein' a nuisance? Want for me to send her away?"
"No. We like her," said Bond amiably81, "but she wants to take a studio portrait .of me and I don't know if she's worth the money. Would you call up the Gleaner and ask if they've got a photographer called Annabel Chung? If she really is one of their people she ought to be good enough."
"Sure, boss." The man hurried away.
Bond smiled at the girl. "Why didn't you ask that man to rescue you?"
The girl glowered82 at him.
"I'm sorry to have to exert pressure," said Bond, "but my export manager in London said that Kingston was full of shady characters. I'm sure you're not one of them, but I really can't understand why you're so anxious to get my picture. Tell me why."
"What I told you," said the girl sulkily. "It's my job."
Bond tried other questions. She didn't answer them. The Pus-Feller came up. "That's right, boss. Annabel Chung. One of their freelance girls. They say she takes fine pictures. You'll be okay with her." He looked bland83. Studio portrait! Studio bed, more like.
"Thanks," said Bond. The Negro went away. Bond turned back to the girl. "Freelance," he said softly. "That still doesn't explain who wanted my picture." His face went cold. "Now give!"
"No," said the girl sullenly84.
"All right, Quarrel. Go ahead." Bond sat back. His instincts told him that this was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. If he could get the answer out of the girl he might be saved weeks of legwork.
Quarrel's right shoulder started to dip downwards85. The girl squirmed towards him to ease the pressure, but he held her body away with his free hand. The girl's face strained towards Quarrel's. Suddenly she spat86 full in his eyes. Quarrel grinned and increased the twist. The girl's feet kicked wildly under the table. She hissed87 out words in Chinese. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
"Tell," said Bond softly. "Tell and it will stop and we'll be friends and have a drink." He was getting worried. The girl's arm must be on the verge88 of breaking.
"------you." Suddenly the girl's left hand flew up and into
Quarrel's face. Bond was too slow to stop her. Something glinted and there was a sharp explosion. Bond snatched at her arm and dragged it back. Blood was streaming down Quarrel's cheek. Glass and metal tinkled89 on to the table. She had smashed the flashbulb on Quarrel's face. If she had been able to reach an eye it would have been blinded.
Quarrel's free hand went up and felt his cheek. He put it in front of his eyes and looked at the blood. "Aha!" There was nothing but admiration90 and a feline91 pleasure in his voice. He said equably to Bond, "We get nuthen out. of dis gal23, cap'n. She plenty tough. You want fe me to break she's arm?"
"Good God, no." Bond let go the arm he was holding. "Let her go." He felt angry with himself for having hurt the girl and still failed. But he had learned something. Whoever was behind her held his people by a steel chain.
Quarrel brought the girl's right arm from behind her back. He still held on to the wrist. Now he opened the girl's hand.
He looked into her eyes. His own were cruel. "You mark me, Missy. Now I mark you." He brought up his other hand and took the Mount of Venus, the soft lozenge of flesh in the palm below her thumb, between his thumb and forefinger92. He began to squeeze it. Bond could see his knuckles93 go white with the pressure. The girl gave a yelp94. She hammered at Quarrel's hand and then at his face. Quarrel grinned and squeezed harder. Suddenly he let go. The girl shot to her feet and backed away from the table, her bruised96 hand at her mouth. She took her hand down and hissed furiously. "He'll get you, you bastards97!" Then, her Leica dangling98, she ran off through the trees.
Quarrel laughed shortly. He took a napkin and wiped it down his cheek and threw it on the ground and took up another. He said to Bond, "She's Love Moun' be sore long after ma face done get healed. Dat a fine piece of a woman, de Love Moun'. When him fat like wit' dat girl you kin tell her'll be good in bed. You know dat, cap'n?"
"No," said Bond. "That's new to me."
"Sho ting. Dat piece of da han' most hindicative. Don' you worry 'bout53 she," he added, noticing the dubious99 expression on Bond's face. "Hers got nuttin but a big bruise95 on she's Love Moun'. But boy, was dat a fat Love Moun'! I come back after dat girl sometime, see if ma teory is da troof."
Appropriately the band started playing 'Don' touch me tomato'. Bond said "Quarrel, it's time you married and settled down. And you leave that girl alone or you'll get a knife between your ribs100. Now come on. We'll get the check and go. It's three o'clock in the morning in London where I was yesterday. I need a night's sleep. You've got to start getting me into training. I think I'm going to need it. And it's about time you put some plaster on that cheek of yours. She's written her name and address on it."
Quarrel grunted101 reminiscently. He said with quiet pleasure, "Dat were some tough baby." He picked up a fork and clanged it against his glass.
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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constellation
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| n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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hydraulic
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| adj.水力的；水压的，液压的；水力学的 | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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stuffy
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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fore
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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calloused
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| adj.粗糙的，粗硬的，起老茧的v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
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graphic
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synthetic
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gleaner
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offhand
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tinkling
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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gals
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| abbr.gallons （复数）加仑（液量单位）n.女孩，少女( gal的名词复数 ) | |
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vaguely
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alpine
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entirely
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scented
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shimmering
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invaluable
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strata
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| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
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32
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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33
skidded
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| v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的过去式和过去分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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34
intersection
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| n.交集，十字路口，交叉点；[计算机] 交集 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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36
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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41
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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42
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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43
unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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44
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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47
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
shacks
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| n.窝棚，简陋的小屋( shack的名词复数 ) | |
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52
galleon
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| n.大帆船 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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improvising
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| 即兴创作（improvise的现在分词形式） | |
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57
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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59
broiled
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| a.烤过的 | |
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60
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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61
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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62
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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63
crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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quirk
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| n.奇事，巧合；古怪的举动 | |
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radar
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| n.雷达，无线电探测器 | |
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67
mash
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| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
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mashed
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| a.捣烂的 | |
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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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slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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72
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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73
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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77
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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78
eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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79
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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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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81
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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82
glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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84
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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85
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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86
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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87
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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88
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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89
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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90
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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91
feline
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| adj.猫科的 | |
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92
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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93
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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94
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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95
bruise
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| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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96
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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97
bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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98
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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99
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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100
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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101
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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