“Daddy, I’m so tired.”
They were in the theatre arcade7 with a great electric light blazing above their heads. People were pouring from the vestibule. A line of trams and cabs waited in the roadway to drain the human flood streaming out into the night.
“Tired, little one?”
“So tired, daddy! My head, it does ache.”
Under the glare of the electric arc Murchison’s face had a haggard look as he took Gwen up like a baby in his arms. Jack8 was hanging to his mother’s hand, garrulous9 and ecstatic, a slab10 of warm chocolate browning his fingers.
“Let’s go in the tram, mother.”
Catherine was following her husband’s powerful figure, as he pushed through the crowd with Gwen lying in his arms. Murchison had hailed a cab, a luxury that he had not allowed himself for many a long week. The wife caught a glimpse of her husband’s face as he turned to her. There was something in his eyes that made her look at Gwen.
“I say, daddy, how that old—”
“Quiet, dear, quiet.”
The boy’s shrill11 voice died down abruptly12. He looked puzzled, and a little offended, and began cramming13 chocolate into his mouth. Murchison had opened the cab door.
“Gwen?”
Catherine’s eyes interrogated14 her husband.
“Get in, dear; can you take her from me? The child is dead tired.”
Gwen appeared half asleep. Her eyes opened vaguely15 as her father lifted her into the cab.
“My head aches, muvver.”
“Does it, dear?” and Catherine’s arms drew close about her; “we shall soon be home.”
“In with you, Jack.”
The boy scrambled16 into a corner, fidgeted to and fro, and stared at his mother. Murchison followed him, closing the door gently, and putting up both windows, for the night was raw and cold. The cab rumbled17 away over the Wilton cobbles, the windows clattering18 like castanets, the light from the street-lamps flashing in rhythmically19 upon the faces of Catherine and her children. Murchison had sunk into his corner with a heavy sigh. The cab had a sense of smothering20 confinement21 for him. With the crunching22 wheels and the chattering23 windows, he was too conscious, through the oppressive restlessness of it all, of Gwen’s tired and apathetic24 face.
“Don’t, Jack, don’t—”
The child stirred in her mother’s arms with a peevish25 cry. Her brother, who had devoured26 his chocolate, had squirmed forward to tickle27 his sister’s legs.
“Sit still.”
Murchison’s voice was fierce in its suppressed impatience28. Jack crumbled29 into his corner, while his mother soothed30 Gwen and stroked her hair. A distant church clock chimed the quarter as the cab turned a corner slowly, and stopped before the blank-faced villa31. Murchison climbed out and took Gwen from his wife’s arms. He unlocked the door, and laid the child on the sofa by the window, before returning to pay the man his fare.
“How much?”
“Two bob, sir.”
Murchison felt in his pockets, and brought out a shilling, a sixpence, and two half-pennies. The little cash-box in Catherine’s desk had to be unlocked before the cab rattled32 away, leaving a solitary33 candle burning in the front room of Clovelly.
In half an hour the two children were in bed; Gwen feverish34, restless, Jack reduced to silence by his father’s quiet but unquestionable authority. Murchison examined Gwen anxiously as she lay with her curls gathered up by a blue ribbon. He made her up a light draught35 of bromide, sweetened it with sugar, and persuaded the child to drink it down. Master Jack Murchison was ordered to lie as quiet as a mouse. Then Catherine and her husband went down to a plain and rather dismal36 supper, cold boiled mutton, rice-pudding, bread and cheese.
When the meal was over, Catherine glided37 up-stairs to look at Gwen. She found both children asleep. Jack curled up like a puppy, the girl flushed, but breathing peacefully. In the dining-room Murchison had drawn38 an arm-chair before the fire, and was stirring the dull coal into a blaze. He glanced uneasily over his shoulder as he heard his wife’s step upon the threshold. Catherine was struck by his lined and thoughtful face.
“Well?”
“Both asleep.”
Her husband continued to stir the fire, his eyes catching39 a restless gleam from the wayward flicker40 of the flames.
“I am bothered about the child, Kate.”
“Yes.”
She turned a chair from the table.
“This last month—”
“You have noticed the change?”
“Yes, dear.”
“So have I.”
He rested his elbows on his knees, and sat close over the fire, moving the poker41 to and fro as though beating time.
“She has lost flesh and color. There is a swollen42 gland43 in the neck, too. This beast of a town, I suppose, with its dirt and smoke. Thank God, the boy seems fit enough.”
He spoke44 slowly, yet with an emphatic45 curtness46 that might have suggested lack of feeling to a sentimentalist. Catherine sat in silence, watching him with troubled eyes.
“Do you suspect anything?”
“Suspect?”
He turned sharply, and she could see the nervous twitching47 of his brows.
“Anything serious? Oh—James, don’t keep me in ignorance.”
She slipped from her chair, and sat down beside him on the hearth-rug, leaning against his knees.
“The child is out of health, dear. It may mean anything or nothing. I am wondering”—and he stopped with a tired sigh—“whether we can give her a change of air.”
“Dear, why not?”
She met his eyes, and colored.
“That is—”
“If we can find the money.”
Catherine pretended not to notice the humiliating bitterness in his voice.
“It can be managed. I think mother would take Gwen. I’m sure she would take her.”
Murchison smiled the unpleasant, cynical48 smile of a man unwilling49 to ask a favor.
“Grandparents are always more merciful to their grandchildren,” he said; “I suppose because there is less responsibility.”
Catherine reached for his hand, and drew it down into her bosom50.
“I will write at once, James, if you are willing.”
“I have no right to object.”
“Object!”
“Beggars are not choosers.”
“James, don’t.”
“I realize my position, dear, and I accept it as a law of nature.”
Her face, wistful with a wealth of unshed tears, appealed to him for mercy towards himself.
“Don’t let us talk of it. Oh, James, why should we? Then, I may write to mother?”
“Yes.”
She knelt up and kissed him.
“Beloved, if Gwen should die!”
Life was a somewhat monotonous51 affair at Dr. Tugler’s dispensary. Method was essential to the management of such a business, for there was more of the commercial enterprise in Dr. Tugler’s profession than a wilful52 idealist could have wished. Surgery hours began at eight, and Dr. Tugler’s was a punctual personality. Day in, day out, he bustled53 into the red-windowed front room as the hand of the clock came to the hour. Nothing but the most flagrant necessity was permitted to interfere54 with the precision of his practice. And since John Tugler did not spare his own body, it was not reasonable that he should spare those who worked for hire.
It was March 2d, a Tuesday, with a wet fog clogging55 the streets, when James Murchison arrived at the dispensary as the clock struck nine. The front room, packed as to its benches, steamed like a stable. The indescribable odor that emanates56 from the clothes of the poor made the air heavy with the smell of the unwashed slums.
Dr. Tugler glanced up briskly as the big man entered, screwed up his mouth, nodded, and jerked an elbow in the direction of the clock.
“Bustle along, Mr. Murchison. There are half a dozen cases waiting for you in the surgery.”
Murchison said nothing, but passed on. His face had a white, drawn look, and he seemed to move half-blindly, like a man exhausted57 by a long march in the sun.
Tugler looked at him curiously58, frowned, and then rattled off a string of directions to an old woman seated beside him, her red hands clutching the old leather bag in her lap.
“Medicine three times a day—before meals. drop the drink. Regular food. Come again next week. Shilling? That’s right. Next—please.”
The old woman’s sodden59 face still poked60 itself towards the doctor with senile eagerness.
“I ’ope you won’t be minding me, sir, but this ’ere—”
Dr. Tugler became suddenly deaf.
“Next, please.”
There was something in the atmosphere suggestive of a barber’s shop. A robust61 collier was already waiting for the old lady to vacate her chair.
“I was goin’ to ask you, doctor—”
“This time next week. We’re busy. Good-morning, Smith; sit down.”
The woman licked a drooping62 lip with a sharp, dry tongue, looked at the doctor dubiously63, and began to fumble64 in her bag.
“I’ve got a box of pills ’ere, sir, as—”
“Hem.”
Tugler cleared his throat irritably65, and appeared surprised to find her still sitting at his elbow.
“Pills?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What for?”
“The bowels66, sir.”
“Need ’em?”
“Well, sir, as I might say, sir, I’m obstinate67, very obstinate—”
“Let’s look at the box.”
“You don’t be thinkin’, doctor, there’s any ’arm?”
“Harm! Bread and ginger69. Take the lot. Sit down, Smith,” and Dr. Tugler’s emphasis ended the discussion with the finality of fate.
When the room had cleared, and the last bottle had been passed through the dispensary window, that opened like the window of a railway booking-office into the alley70 at the side of the shop, Dr. Tugler marched into the surgery where Murchison had finished syringing the wax out of an old man’s ears.
“Overslept yourself, Murchison? I must buy you an alarum, you know, if it happens again.”
Murchison was washing his hands at the tap over the sink.
“No,” he said, “I was up half the night.”
John Tugler, cheerful little bully71 that he was, noticed the sag72 of the big man’s shoulders, and the peculiar73 harshness of his voice.
“Get through with it all right?”
Murchison stared momentarily at Dr. Tugler over his shoulder, a glance that had the significance of the flash of a drawn sword.
“It was not one of your cases,” he said.
“Private affair, eh?”
“My child is ill.”
“Your child?”
“Yes; I’m a bit worried, that’s all.”
Murchison turned the tap off with a jerk, rasped the dirty towel round the roller, and began to dry his hands as though he were trying to crush something between his palms. Dr. Tugler thrust out a lower lip, looked hard at Murchison, and fidgeted his fists in his trousers-pockets.
“What’s the matter?”
The big man’s silence suggested for a moment that he resented the abruptness74 of the question.
“Can’t say—yet.”
“Serious?”
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
Dr. Tugler frowned a little, stared hard at the ventilator, and pulled his hands out of his pockets with a jerk.
“Look here, Murchison, you’ve lost your nerve a little. I’ll come round and have a look at the youngster. You had better knock off work to-day.”
“Thanks, I’d rather stick to it. You might see the child, though. I—”
“Well?”
Murchison had turned his face away, and was standing75 by the window, fumbling76 with his cuff77 links.
“I don’t like the look of things. I don’t know why, but a man’s nerve seems to go when he’s doctoring his own kin68.”
“That’s so,” and Dr. Tugler nodded.
“Then you’ll come round?”
“Supposing we go at once?”
“It’s good of you.”
“Bosh.”
And Dr. Tugler turned into the front room, took his top-hat from the gas bracket, and began to polish it with his sleeve.
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收听单词发音
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1
agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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2
capers
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| n.开玩笑( caper的名词复数 )；刺山柑v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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3
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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4
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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5
kaleidoscopic
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| adj.千变万化的 | |
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gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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7
arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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8
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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9
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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10
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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11
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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12
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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13
cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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14
interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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15
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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16
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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17
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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18
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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19
rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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20
smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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21
confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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22
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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23
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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24
apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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25
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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26
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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27
tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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28
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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29
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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30
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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31
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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32
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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33
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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34
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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35
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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36
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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37
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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38
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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39
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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40
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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41
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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42
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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43
gland
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| n.腺体，(机)密封压盖，填料盖 | |
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44
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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45
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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46
curtness
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| n.简短；草率；简略 | |
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47
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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48
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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49
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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50
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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51
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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52
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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53
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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54
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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55
clogging
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| 堵塞，闭合 | |
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56
emanates
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的第三人称单数 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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57
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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58
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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59
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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60
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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61
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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62
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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63
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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64
fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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65
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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66
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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67
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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68
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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69
ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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70
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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71
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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72
sag
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| v.下垂，下跌，消沉；n.下垂，下跌，凹陷，[航海]随风漂流 | |
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73
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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74
abruptness
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| n. 突然，唐突 | |
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75
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
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76
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
参考例句： |
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77
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
参考例句： |
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