I doubt if she realized how long I was gone, which was more than a half hour, closer to forty-five minutes. Because when I came in, she was sitting back in her chair but still staring at the television set: an old movie, a comedy from the forties that must have been ninety-five percent incomprehensible to her. But it moved and it talked and that was enough. Of the series of pictures which are my memories of a lot that happened that day, the next is even more memorable52 than Julia's hypnosis by television. I had to turn off the set to get her away from it; she said, "Oh, no, not yet!" as the picture shrank and the screen went dark. I was laughing. "Julia, there are other things to see! You can look at the television again later." She nodded, and stood—but reluctantly, looking back at the set—and said, "A theater in your home—six theaters! It's a miracle. How can you bear to do anything but watch it?" "Some people can't. But I don't think you'd be one of them. It's really no good, Julia, it's not worth watching, most of it." But of course she couldn't see that, not yet. I'd set the four or five packages I'd brought in on the davenport, and now I picked them up and began piling them into Julia's arms. "I think you'll have to put these on, Julia. You can change in my room." "What are they, Si? Clothes? Modern clothes?" "Yep." She hesitated, but I said gently, "People will stare at you otherwise, Julia," and she grimaced53, and nodded. I said, "Forgive me for speaking of this, but I have to explain: I think you can keep on whatever underclothes you're wearing; though if you run into any problems, let me know." I was having trouble keeping my face straight. "There's a blouse, skirt, slip, and sweater in the packages. And shoes and stockings. Put them all on. I brought a garter belt for the stockings, which I'm sure you'll figure out. And if anything fits too badly, we'll stop at a store and replace it. Okay?" "Okay." She nodded shyly, and went into my room, and I opened the last package, a suit box, brought out the street coat I'd bought her, and laid it over the back of the davenport as a sort of final surprise for Julia. It was tan cloth, with wide lapels, a deep collar, and big mother-of-pearl buttons. All these things had been expensive but I didn't care. Julia was gone longer than I'd thought she'd be, and doors being as thin as they are today, which Julia surely didn't realize, I could hear her little exclamations54 of surprise and occasional puzzlement. Then I heard her say, "Oh!" in a shocked little tone, and the next picture in my assorted55 memories is of Julia—following a long wait after the "Oh!"—coming hesitatingly out of the bedroom and stopping just outside the door. Her voice embarrassed, she said, "Si, you made a mistake; just look at this skirt!" and I couldn't hold it in another second, and burst out laughing. The skirt I'd bought her was tan wool, and of a really conservative knee-length. And she had it on all right. But it was tight at the waist because she'd put it on over at least two of her own ankle-length white petticoats.
"Julia, I'm sorry!" I said; she was looking indignant. "But you can't wear those petticoats; wear the slip!" "Slip?" "The pink petticoat I brought you." "I am wearing it!" Her face was shiny red. "Under my petticoats, and it's much too short!" I'd bottled the laughter up, shoved it way down inside and it was off my face completely but fighting to get out. "No, Julia," I said gravely, "the slip isn't really too short. It's the same length as the skirt; a shade shorter so it won't show." I shrugged56. "It's what they wear today. I didn't design them." She stood for a moment as though thinking about arguing it, while I kept my face rigid at the sight of a good fourteen inches of ruffled57 white petticoat hanging down below the hem6 of that skirt. Then she turned abruptly58, and was gone for at least ten minutes. She came out of the bedroom walking like a duck, arms rigid at her side; it took me a few seconds and steps to realize that this strange walk was because her knees were pressed tight together. "Is this... how it's supposed to look?" She stood motionless for my inspection, and I stood staring because Julia looked great. The blouse looked fine at the collar, the chocolate-brown sweater was a snug59 but not too tight fit, and the skirt looked terrific. As I'd suspected, she had a fine figure, though I hadn't known her legs would be absolutely beautiful. High-heeled shoes, the clerk had reminded me, were out of style right now, but I'd insisted on buying high-heeled brown leather pumps, and now I saw that I was right. In sheer flesh-toned stockings, those high heels emphasizing her fine-boned ankles and full round calves60, Julia was stunning61. She was a spectacularly handsome girl in this outfit62, and her long hair, gathered up in a bun at the back, seemed just right for it. My face, eyes, and grin showed what I thought, and it helped her; she smiled, too, in sudden pleasure and pride, and bent63 forward to look down at her skirt. Once more she caught sight of its hem, far far higher on those beautiful legs than she'd ever dreamed she'd wear. And her face flushed, she ran two steps to the davenport, snatched up the coat I'd left there, and as fast as she could move, she wrapped it around her waist, the bottom of the coat touching her shoes. "I can't!" she wailed64. "Si, I simply cannot go out in the street like that!" I couldn't help it; I was laughing, shaking my head as I walked over to her, and I put an arm around her shoulders, and then on impulse and without thought I kissed her. It was just a quick kiss, and she looked startled. But she smiled, and I got her to put on the coat by telling her its hem would be longer than the skirt—as it was by an inch or so. And that helped. The coat on, she looked down at herself again, and while I think she felt like running to the bedroom again, she made herself stand still. Every woman she'd seen outside, I reminded her, wore a coat just as short, and she nodded grimly, accepting it.
I walked to my room to get a felt hat from my closet, and when I came back Julia stood at the mirror which hung over the little table beside the front door, and she was tying the strings65 of her bonnet66 under her chin. This time I didn't even bother trying to hold back; it would have been useless. I laughed for a dozen seconds, unable to stop or speak, and Julia stood looking at me, not angry but baffled; and each time I'd look at her standing26 there frowning puzzledly in those high heels and short modern coat, wearing that ancient, flat-topped flowered hat on her head, its strings tied in a bow under her chin, the laughter got a fresh start. I didn't mean to be rude or offend Julia, and was relieved that she didn't seem angry; it was just that she'd seemed so modern suddenly that I'd stupidly thought she understood how good she looked. But of course the new outfit was utterly67 alien to her; she had no way of judging it. To Julia her familiar bonnet looked just fine with these strange new clothes. But when I told her the bonnet didn't go with them, the woman she was understood instantly that it must be so, even though she couldn't perceive it, and she yanked loose the bow under her chin and snatched off the bonnet. Plenty of women went bareheaded in the street, I told her, especially with long hair like hers. She looked surprised and doubtful about that, and I said if it bothered her when we got out, we'd stop and buy her a new hat. Then I put my hands on her coat sleeves at the shoulder, and stood at arm's length looking her over, letting what I thought and felt show. "Julia, take my word for this; when we go out now, you'll be one of the best-looking women in all New York. And that's the truth." She saw that I meant it, and I watched the pleasure come into her eyes, and saw her chin lift. Then, wobbling a bit on heels an inch higher and much smaller than she was used to but managing it pretty well, she walked back into my room; there was a full-length mirror on the closet door, and I knew she was heading for that. And knew she could face going out now, and that it wouldn't take this girl long to be as pleased as she ought to at the way she looked, and I wished I'd kissed her again before she moved away from my hands at her shoulders. Downstairs I got Julia into a cab right away, letting her get used to being out in full sight of the world a little dose at a time. Then we drove uptown on Third Avenue so that she could see the street astoundingly without El or even streetcar tracks. At Forty-second Street we turned west to pass Grand Central Station, and Julia said, and I agreed, that it was far more impressive than the little red-brick Grand Central we'd seen here last. Up Madison Avenue, the charming quiet little street that Julia knew unrecognizable now, of course. And then to Fifty-ninth Street along the lower edge of Central Park, and once more she had the relief and pleasure of finding something familiar essentially68 unchanged. I hired one of the horse-drawn hacks70 that wait in a line beside the park on Fifty-ninth Street; I thought Julia would enjoy it. And for a while—clip-clop, clip-clop once more—we drove more or less aimlessly along the winding71 roadways while Julia marveled at the absence of any other horses, and at the swiftness and relative silence of the "auto mobiles." She liked the cars, thought they were far more handsome and much more interesting than carriages, and I realized she'd rather have taken a cab. Along Central Park West, and I showed her the Dakota surrounded by other buildings now; then we drove back to the hack69 stand. I paid off the driver, and we walked on toward the corner ofFifty-ninth and Fifth. This was the corner at which I'd had my first real look, on a cold January morning, at the world of 1882, staring in fright and fierce excitement at the horse-drawn bus approaching me, then turning to look south at a narrow, quiet residential72 Fifth Avenue. I'd been with Kate, but I didn't want to think about that just now. I wanted Julia to see that very same stretch of Fifth Avenue in my world. Approaching the corner, across the street from the Plaza73 Hotel, I said, "We're walking along beside Central Park, Julia; and that's the corner of Fifty-ninth and Fifth, so you know where you are." I'd timed this carefully, and now I raised my arm, saying, "So tell me—what street is that?" and I pointed down the length of what may just be the most spectacular dozen and a half blocks in the world. She gasped74, turned a stunned75 face to me, then looked back, and the magnitude of the change in what she saw, the assault on the senses of that sudden look at today's astonishing structures, was almost too much. "Fifth Avenue?" she said weakly, and then, astounded, "That is Fifth Avenue!?" "Yes." For as long as a minute we both stood looking down its length, remembering what it had been. Then Julia glanced at me, managing a smile, and we walked down Fifth, passing the shining immensities, the breathtakingly handsome and the miserably76 ugly architectural confections along the mile or so that at least half the people in the world have seen in actuality or on film. Those great smooth-faced buildings and walls of glass are alien even to modern eyes, and I'm not sure Julia was able to apprehend77 them fully38, they were so divorced from anything and everything she knew. It was so nearly impossible, I think, to take in and even try to comprehend, that when she looked across Fifty-first Street just ahead, suddenly narrowing her eyes to be sure she really saw it, she felt as I once had, but even more strongly—she burst into tears at sight of St. Patrick's Cathedral standing almost unchanged in this other world. Across the street from the cathedral at Rockefeller Center—which I don't think Julia ever even noticed—there are stone benches, and I led Julia to one. Then we sat while she stared over at St. Pat's; then she looked up Fifth Avenue, back at St. Patrick's for a reference point; then she looked down Fifth to the south; then once again her eyes swung back to the old cathedral for relief. It helped convince her that she was where she was, its familiarity a comfort and reassurance78, and presently we walked on. Here and there Julia found familiar old names; women's stores she'd seen last on Broadway. And we'd stop while she stared at the glittering display windows, drinking it in, fascinated by the jewelry79, the clothes, the furs, hats, and shoes. I said. "The Ladies' Mile, Julia," and she nodded. "I think I like it. I think possibly..." She hesitated, then continued, "They're very strange, but I think possibly I'd come to like these things." Once more she looked slowly up and down the length of Fifth Avenue. "Even these buildings." She shook her head. "Who could believe it? Who could ever imagine this?" At Forty-second Street we looked at the soot-marked white building of the main Public Library, and I marveled with Julia at the absence of the great slant-walled reservoir. Then—sheneeded rest from looking—I took her to a small bar I remembered on Thirty-ninth Street. At first she refused to go to "a saloon," but then she accepted the knowledge that today women did many things they once hadn't done. We had a table off in a corner away from the bar, only one other couple there, whispering in a corner. Julia had a glass of wine, I had whiskey-and-soda, and Julia relaxed. By tacit agreement we hadn't talked until now about what we'd left behind us; we'd needed relief from it, and had had it, but now again we talked of the fire ... of Jake Pickering ... of Carmody's strange behavior, and our flight from Inspector80 Byrnes. In this room, the sounds of today's New York a part of the very air, the names we spoke81 sounded odd to me, remote, even faintly comical. To have actually been frightened of walrus-mustached Inspector Byrnes who had never heard of fingerprints82 seemed absurd; had we really been scared or only participating in some sort of harmless make-believe? That was something of the tenor83 of my thoughts as we quietly talked over our drinks, and the reason I spoke with a little smile. But Julia was serious, not understanding my smile, and of course I understood that for her we were talking of a world in which Byrnes, Pickering, Carmody, and the fire in the World Building were far more real than this. We said nothing new; we were only obeying a necessity to talk things over. Julia was worried about what her aunt would be thinking now, and hanging unspoken over everything we said was the question of Julia's future. But that needed time to work out, and I said nothing about it because I had nothing to say, though I had a lot to think about. I had other things to show Julia, and after a while we left, and found a cab. It was still light, and I took Julia down to the Empire State Building, and we went up to the observation floor. In the elevator during the long long express ride past dozens of floors, Julia watched the floor-number panel, trying to believe we were really moving up this fast and this high, and her hand, holding mine, squeezed tight in the realization84 that we were. On the stone-railed open-air platform some ninety-odd floors above the earth, she looked out over the hazed85 city, making herself understand that here high over Thirty-fourth Street the distant greenery far ahead was really Central Park, and that the network of car-filled streets spread out far below us was really the city she'd known intimately but here no longer did. She looked out at the city, the park, the rivers. Then she looked around at the sky and pointed out a remarkable86 cloud; she'd never seen one anything like it before. I looked, and in a sense I suppose it really was a cloud—it had become one. High in the sky the air must have been windless, and a jet trail, its sharp edges gone, had puffed87 itself up into an absolutely straight, thin, mile-long cloud touched by the lowering sun. And then I, too, saw it not as a jet trail but as a strange elongated88, ruler-straight cloud, and had one more glimpse of the different view Julia had of my world. She was interested when I told her what the cloud really was; and she enjoyed her visit up here, impressed and excited by it. But presently she turned from the railing, sighing a little, and said, "And now it's enough, Si; this is all I can stand right now. Please take me home." So instead of a restaurant for dinner—I'd meant to show off one of the nicer places—we stopped at my building's delicatessen, and I picked up some chopped steak and frozen vegetables.
The vegetables—corn and some broccoli89 frozen hard and sealed in transparent90 plastic, and which I dropped into boiling water in their sacks—fascinated Julia. As we all do, she liked the easiness of preparing them, but of course the taste or tastelessness was something else, though she was polite. We took our coffee into the living room, and, refreshed and revived, Julia said, "I've seen your world now, Si; I've had a glimpse of it, anyway. Now tell me what's been happening during all the years—it'so strange to say this—between my time and this." She snuggled back into the davenport (s) cushions, looking at me as expectantly as a child about to hear a story. I suppose I responded to her smile and expectation of pleasure, because—pausing to think, Where do you begin? How do you sum up decades?—I found myself hunting for good things to say. "Well, smallpox91 has been almost eliminated; you never see pock-marks now. And cholera92. I don't suppose there's been even a case of it for years. Not in the United States, anyway." Julia nodded. "And polio—infantile paralysis93. It's been just about eliminated, at least in all the big civilized94 countries." She nodded again; she seemed to have expected this. "And heart disease, too? And cancer?" "Well, no, not yet. But we're replacing hearts! Surgically95 removing the damaged heart and replacing it with another one from someone who just died." "That's miraculous96! And they live?" "Well, not too long, usually. It doesn't really work very well. But it will." "And how long do people live? To a hundred or more, I'm sure. I read a prediction in the Atlantic Monthly—" "Actually, Julia, people don't seem to be living much longer, if at all, than in your time. Matter of fact, there are some new things that, ah—are killing97 us off and shortening our lives that don't exist in your time. Air pollution, for example. But we have air conditioning." "What's that?" "Machines that cool off the air in summer." "Everywhere?" "No, no; just indoors. I've got one in the bedroom—that thing in the window, if you noticed it. During a hot spell it'll cool the air to seventy degrees." "What a luxury." "Yeah, it's pretty nice. And they have them in most offices now, restaurants, movies, hotels.""What are movies? You've mentioned them before." I explained that they were like television only much larger, much clearer, and—every now and then—much better. Then I found myself talking about electric blankets, supermarkets, radar98, air travel, automatic washers, dishwashers, and even, Lord forgive me, freeways. Julia finished the last of her coffee, picked up my empty cup and saucer, and took it with hers to the kitchen. She walked back into the living room saying, "But what's been happening, Si? Tell me about that." As I thought about it, in terms of actual events, she began wandering about the room, fingering the drapes, looking at the back of the television set, flicking99 the overhead light fixture100 on and off a few times. I was stuck for an answer. It reminded me of letter writing; you can fill several pages describing a weekend, but try bringing an old friend up-to-date with the events of the last five years, and it's not so easy. What had happened in more than a lifetime? "Well, there are fifty states now." "Fifty?" "Yep," I said as smugly as though I'd created them. "All the territories are states now. Also Alaska and Hawaii. And they've changed the flag; it has fifty stars now." Julia nodded, interested; she was poking101 through the magazine rack at the end of the davenport, and now she pulled out a newspaper. "And, let's see. Well, there was an earthquake in San Francisco in... 1906, I think. The city was pretty well destroyed, mostly by the fire afterward102." "Oh, I'm so sorry; it's a lovely city, I've heard." She nodded at the newspaper in her hand. "You have a way to print photographs, I see." She put down the paper and walked to my bookshelves. "Yes, also in color. There ought to be an old Life magazine around somewhere with some color photos. And—my God, how could I forget! We're shooting rockets into space! They carry capsules with men in them. A couple of them have traveled to the moon, and landed. With men in them. And returned to earth." "Do you mean that? To the moon? With men in them?" "Yes, it's really true." Again I heard the ridiculous note in my voice sounding as though I'd had something to do with it. She looked delighted. "Have they been on the moon?" "Yep. Walked around on it.""That's fascinating!" I hesitated, then said, "Yeah. I suppose so. But not as much as I'd have thought when I was a kid reading science fiction." She looked puzzled, and I said, "It's hard to explain, Julia, but... it doesn't seem to mean anything. After the excitement of the actual trip—it was on television, if you can imagine that, Julia; we could actually see and hear the men on the moon—I almost forgot about it. Right away, too; I seldom thought about it afterward. It was unbelievably courageous103 of the men, and yet ... somehow the project almost seemed to lack dignity. Because it didn't have any real purpose or point." I stopped because she wasn't listening. As I'd talked, Julia had been looking over my book titles and presently she'd taken down a novel and begun leafing through it. Now, suddenly, she swung around to face me, and her face and neck were scarlet104 right down to the white collar of her blouse. "Si. Things like this"—she glanced at the open pages of the book in her hands, horrified—"are said in print?" She clapped the book shut as though the words could crawl off the page. "I would never have believed it!" She couldn't look at me. I had nothing to say. How explain the changes in thought over more than a lifetime? But I was smiling; the novel she'd looked at was really very mild. There were others on the shelves that might literally have made her faint. Disturbed, agitated105, Julia had reached out and plucked another book from the shelves almost at random106. She read the title aloud, hardly listening to herself, anxious to bury the subject of the horror she'd come onto. " 'A Pictorial107 History of World War Eye,' " she said. Then the meaning of the words came to her. "A war? World war? What does that mean, Si?" She started to open the book, and as her hand moved I was on my feet and walking quickly toward her. It's always astonishing to realize later how lightning-fast the mind can sometimes work, what a lengthy108 series of thoughts and images it can produce within a fraction of a second. It had been a long time since I'd looked through the book Julia was opening. But during two very fast steps to her side I was remembering dozens of the photographs it contained: a destroyed town, only rubble109 and partial walls, and in the foreground a dead horse in a ditch ... refugees on a dirt road, the frightened face of a small girl looking at the camera ... an airplane going down in flames ... a trench110 half filled with dead bodies in uniform, their legs wrapped in cloth puttees, the face of one of them decomposed111 so badly it was mostly skull112, though the hair remained. And one photograph I particularly remembered in every detail: On a shelf-like projection113 shoved into the wall of the trench sat a bareheaded soldier, alive. His feet were ankle-deep in water at the bottom of the trench directly beside a corpse114, and he was smoking a cigarette, looking out at the camera hollow-eyed, stupefied, as though he'd never smiled or ever would. These horrors, I had suddenly realized, mustn't be revealed to Julia unless she joined the world that had produced them, and—making myself smile—I took the book from her hand just before she could open its pages. "Oh, yes," I said easily, turning the book to look at the gold letters of the title on the spine115, as though to confirm the title. "That happened a long time ago.""A world war?" "They called it that, Julia, because ... all the world was concerned about it. It was everyone's business, you see, and ... they soon put a stop to it. I'd almost forgotten it." How much sense that made to her, if any, I don't know. She said, "And what does 'World War Eye' mean?" "Well..." I couldn't think of anything to say but the truth. "That isn't a letter of the alphabet. It's a number, Julia, a Roman numeral." "World War ... one? There've been more?" "A second one." She was suspicious. "And—what was it like?" My mind performed its commonplace miracle again. Hardly pausing before I replied, I was able to consider the four long years of trench warfare116 of World War I: the battle at Verdun in which a million men had died, unrestricted submarine warfare. Then I thought of World War II and the destruction of cities by the Germans, the killing of women, old people and babies; of the fire-bombings of German cities by the Americans, creating actual hundred-mile-an-hour hurricanes of fire incinerating women, old people and babies. And of a man I have often imagined, a German designer, getting up each morning, having breakfast, going to his office, sitting at his drawing board, neatly117 rolling back his sleeves, and then very carefully, with detailed118 india-ink drawings and precise manufacturing specifications119, designing false shower heads which would presently loose poison gas to kill people by the millions in what were literally factories of death. And I thought of people killed even more efficiently120: instantaneous death for hundreds of thousands in the brilliant flashes of two atomic explosions over Japan. What was World War II like? Unbelievably, it was worse than World War I, and no answer or foolish lie came to mind now. She guessed. She knew that wars weren't called "world wars" for nothing. She looked at the thickness of the pictorial history I had taken from her; then she looked up at my face and said, "I don't want to hear about it." "I don't want to tell you." I put the book back in its place, and we returned to the davenport. Julia didn't sit back, though. She sat on the edge of the cushion, her hands folded—clenched together, actually—in her lap. Staring straight ahead, getting her thoughts in order, she was silent for a few moments. Then she said, "During the day I've thought about what I wanted to do. And I've thought about staying here, if it were possible to tell Aunt Ada what had happened. During part of the day, when we walked down Fifth Avenue, I thought I'd made up my mind that if we could tell Ada, I would stay." I was sitting beside Julia, and she turned to look at me, managing a little smile. "I never thought I could possibly say this to a man, but I can: Do you love me, Si?" "Yes.""And I you. Almost from the first, though I didn't know it. But Jake guessed it, didn't he? Or felt it. Now I know, too. What should I do, Si? What do you want me to do? Shall I stay here?" I thought that needed thinking about, then realized it didn't. I suppose Julia believed I was considering my answer as I sat looking at her face, but I wasn't. I was talking to her silently. I said, No, I won't let you stay here. Julia, we're a people who pollute the very air we breathe. And our rivers. We're destroying the Great Lakes; Erie is already gone, and now we've begun on the oceans. We filled our atmosphere with radioactive fallout that put poison into our children's bones, and we knew it. We've made bombs that can wipe out humanity in minutes, and they are aimed and ready to fire. We ended polio, and then the United States Army bred new strains of germs that can cause fatal, incurable121 disease. We had a chance to do justice to our Negroes, and when they asked it, we refused. In Asia we burned people alive, we really did. We allow children to grow up malnourished in the United States. We allow people to make money by using our television channels to persuade our own children to smoke, knowing what it is going to do to them. This is a time when it becomes harder and harder to continue telling yourself that we are still good people. We hate each other. And we're used to it. I stopped; I wasn't going to say any of these things. The burden wasn't hers. I said, "You've been to Harlem." "Yes, of course." "Do you like it?" "Certainly. It's charming; I've always liked the country." "Have you ever walked in Central Park at night?" "Yes." "Alone?" "Yes; it's very peaceful." There were horrors in Julia's time, and I knew it. I knew that the seeds of everything I hated in my own time were already planted and sprouting122 in hers. But they hadn't yet flowered. In Julia's New York the streets could still fill with sleighs on a moonlit night of new snow, of strangers calling to each other, of singing and laughing. Life still had meaning and purpose in people's minds; the great emptiness hadn't begun. Now the good times to be alive seemed to be gone, Julia's probably the last of them. I said, "You have to go back," and reached over to take her hands in mine. "Just believe me, Julia. Because I love you. You can't stay here." After a few moments she nodded slowly. "And you, Si—will you come back, too?"The elation123 at the very thought of it showed in my face because Julia smiled. But I had to say, "I don't know. I have some duties here first." "And you don't know if you could, do you? For the rest of your life." "I'd have to be very sure." "Yes, you would. For both our sakes." For several moments we looked at each other; then Julia said, "I'm going back, now, Si, tonight. Or I'll begin pleading with you to come, too. And to spend the rest of your life in another time is something you must determine alone." I thought so, too, and I nodded. "Can you go back alone?" "I think so. I couldn't have come here into a future past all imagining; you had to bring me. But I can visualize124 my own time, feel it, and know it is there—far better than you the first time you tried." Something roared up in my mind that I'd almost forgotten, it seemed so remote from this room and time. "Carmody! You can't go back, Julia! Carmody will—" "No, he won't." She was shaking her head. "Do you remember what I was doing when Inspector Byrnes came for us? You were downstairs in the parlor125, reading and I—" "You were upstairs." "Yes; in Jake's room, Si. I'd folded his clothes and put them into his trunk. And I was wrapping his boots when I heard you call. This afternoon for no reason I can understand, I remembered those boots. I'd just picked them up when the doorbell rang, and, Si—I saw the heels. The nails formed a pattern, and the pattern was a nine-pointed star in a circle. Jake survived the fire, not Carmody. That was Jake at Carmody's home covered with bandages. And filled with hate." I knew it was true, and I knew what had happened. "My God, Julia; he walked out of that fire, somehow. Badly burned, yet a plan already forming in his mind. He walked straight to Carmody's, I'm certain, saw Carmody's widow, and—can you conceive of this?—they made a deal! Without Carmody she could lose the fortune, so he became Carmody. When we saw her at the Charity Ball, her husband newly dead, she'd already made the arrangement. Has anyone ever wanted money and position more than those two? They really make a pair, don't they!" "What are you smiling at?" "Was I? I didn't realize. It's not easy to explain, but ... I'm smiling because Jake is such a villain126! It's the first time I've ever even used the word, but it's what he is, all right. Complete. In everything he does. He's a complete man of his times, and I guess I'm also smiling because in spiteof everything I like him. Good old Jake, disguised as Carmody, down on Wall Street at last. I hope he corners the market, whatever that means." "Yes," Julia said, "he was cursed. I hope he finds happiness, though I am certain he will not." She didn't know what I'd meant, of course. To her there was no strangeness or comedy in the word villain; it's what Jake was, that's all. She said, "He can't harm me now; I know who he is, and when he understands that, I'm safe. So will you be ... if you come back." She stood abruptly, and walked quickly to the bedroom to change her clothes. I rode downtown with Julia in a cab. It was dark now; she sat back from the window, and no one but the driver saw her clothes. Half a block from our destination we got out, well away from the nearest streetlamp. I paid off the cab, then Julia and I walked quickly to the immense granite127-block base of the Manhattan tower of the Brooklyn Bridge. In the deepest shadows I took Julia's hands in mine and stood looking at her. In her long skirt, her coat and bonnet, her muff hanging from her wrist on its loop, she looked right; she looked the way Julia ought to. I said, "I want to come back; I want to spend my life with you, but..." "I know. I know." We repeated what we'd already said, several times. I took Julia in my arms then, and held her for quite a long time. I kissed her, we looked at each other once more, then simultaneously128 inhaled129, mouths opening to speak. We stood staring, breaths held momentarily, then smiled a little sadly; we'd said it all. Julia reached out and laid her fingers on my cheek for a moment, then shook her head quickly; she wouldn't say goodbye. She took my hand, and we walked a few paces out from the great granite wall of the bridge tower, then turned to look at it; now it was like an enormous stone curtain shutting out the world. She said, "The time I was born into and belong to are there, Si; far more real to me than the time I glimpsed today. My own world ... I can feel it very strongly, it's very real; can't you?" I nodded; I couldn't speak. Julia turned, kissed me very quickly, then let go my hand and walked swiftly forward at a long angle toward the corner of that enormous wall. She reached it, hesitated, looked back as though she were going to speak, but didn't. She took the final steps and was gone then, around the corner of the huge base of the tower, the sound of her steps rapidly receding130. Silence. Then I began to walk toward the same corner. I broke into a run, fast as I could move, and was around it far quicker than Julia could have disappeared from sight. But she was gone.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
batch
|
|
| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
belligerently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
lewdly
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
jersey
|
|
| n.运动衫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
hem
|
|
| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
lighting
|
|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
cargo
|
|
| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
swelling
|
|
| n.肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
apprehensively
|
|
| adv.担心地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
propellers
|
|
| n.螺旋桨，推进器( propeller的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
propeller
|
|
| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
mumbling
|
|
| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
astounded
|
|
| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
pedestrians
|
|
| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
bowling
|
|
| n.保龄球运动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
curb
|
|
| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
canyon
|
|
| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
dwarfed
|
|
| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
automobile
|
|
| n.汽车，机动车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
auto
|
|
| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
confirmation
|
|
| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
lashing
|
|
| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
advertising
|
|
| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
arrogant
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
rehearsal
|
|
| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
detour
|
|
| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
frustration
|
|
| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
flicked
|
|
| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
lining
|
|
| n.衬里，衬料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
constraint
|
|
| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
compartment
|
|
| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
pitcher
|
|
| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
countless
|
|
| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
babbled
|
|
| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
sneaking
|
|
| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
serial
|
|
| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
grimaced
|
|
| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
exclamations
|
|
| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
assorted
|
|
| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
ruffled
|
|
| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
snug
|
|
| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
calves
|
|
| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
stunning
|
|
| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
outfit
|
|
| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
wailed
|
|
| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
strings
|
|
| n.弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
hack
|
|
| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
hacks
|
|
| 黑客 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
residential
|
|
| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
plaza
|
|
| n.广场，市场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
stunned
|
|
| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
miserably
|
|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
apprehend
|
|
| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
reassurance
|
|
| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
jewelry
|
|
| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
inspector
|
|
| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
fingerprints
|
|
| n.指纹( fingerprint的名词复数 )v.指纹( fingerprint的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
tenor
|
|
| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
realization
|
|
| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
hazed
|
|
| v.（使）笼罩在薄雾中( haze的过去式和过去分词 )；戏弄，欺凌（新生等，有时作为加入美国大学生联谊会的条件） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
puffed
|
|
| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
elongated
|
|
| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
broccoli
|
|
| n.绿菜花，花椰菜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
transparent
|
|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
smallpox
|
|
| n.天花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
cholera
|
|
| n.霍乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
paralysis
|
|
| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
surgically
|
|
| adv. 外科手术上, 外科手术一般地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
miraculous
|
|
| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
radar
|
|
| n.雷达，无线电探测器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
flicking
|
|
| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
fixture
|
|
| n.固定设备；预定日期；比赛时间；定期存款 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
poking
|
|
| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
pictorial
|
|
| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
lengthy
|
|
| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
rubble
|
|
| n.（一堆）碎石，瓦砾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
trench
|
|
| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
decomposed
|
|
| 已分解的，已腐烂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
projection
|
|
| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
spine
|
|
| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
warfare
|
|
| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
detailed
|
|
| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
specifications
|
|
| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
efficiently
|
|
| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
incurable
|
|
| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
sprouting
|
|
| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
elation
|
|
| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
visualize
|
|
| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
parlor
|
|
| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
villain
|
|
| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
granite
|
|
| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
simultaneously
|
|
| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
inhaled
|
|
| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
receding
|
|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |