She had told him not to disturb her till eleven, but he had persuaded himself that he would hear from her long before that—at nine, perhaps; at ten, at latest. She had tried to appear offhand2 in arranging the appointment because another man had been present He pretended to think it rather decent of her to have let the chap down so lightly.
During every minute of the last two hours, he had been expecting to hear the shrill3 tinkle4 of her summons. As he bent5 above his writing his heart was in his throat He kept glancing up, telling himself that his sixth sense had warned him that her voice was already asking its way across the wires. Though previous premonitions had proved unwarranted, he was confident that his latest was truly psychic7.
Surely a girl who knew that she was loved wouldn’t sleep away the freshness of a blue September morning! Curiosity, if nothing better, would rouse her. It didn’t often happen that a man came three thousand miles to do his courting. She’d kept him waiting so long. If she felt one-tenth part of his impatience8——
He finished his letter to his mother. It was all about his voyage and the interviews of yesterday. He ought to tell her more—but how, without telling her too much?
He scrawled9 a postscript10, “By the way, yesterday I met Vashti”; then sealed the envelope. By the time an inquiry11 could be returned, he would know everything. He would know for certain whether Desire loved him. He pulled out his watch. A few minutes past ten! To keep his nerves quiet he made a pretense12 at working. He would outline the first of his series of articles.
But his thoughts wandered. There was no room in his mind for anything save her. She possessed13 him. The birdlike inflexions of her voice piped in his memory; he could hear her laughter, the murmur14 of her footsteps, the rustle15 of her dress. The subtle fragrance16 of her presence was all about him. In the silence of his brain she pleaded with him, taunted17 him, explained her omissions18 of consideration. “You don’t know what things have done to me—don’t know what things have done to me.”
It was useless; he gave up his attempt. All he had accomplished19 was to fill a page with sketches20 of her face. Here she was as he had seen her last night, fashionably attired22, with her hair like a crown of bronze upon her forehead. And here as the Guinevere of that bewildering drive, mystic as the dawn in a web of shadows. And here as the coaxing23, elusive24 sprite, who had scribbled25 her heart upon the dusty panes26 of childhood.
Would he ever be able to work again, ever be able to pursue any ambition or any dream in which she did not share?
He rose restlessly and fumbled27 for his watch. A minute to eleven! He stepped across to the telephone. While the boy at the switchboard was getting his number, he tapped with his foot, consumed with impatience.
“Madame Jodrell’s apartment?—I want to speak to Miss Desire.—Oh, no, I’m sure she’s not sleeping. You’re mistaken.” He laughed nervously28. “This is Mr. Gurney. She asked me to ring her up at eleven.”
Silence. A long wait. “She’ll speak to you, sir.” The clicking of a new connection. He heard the receiver taken down at the other end and a curious sound which, after puzzling over, he decided29 must be the running of bathwater.
“Are you there?”
He listened.
“Is that you, Desire?”
No answer.
Then she gave herself away. Across the wire came to him a stifled30 yawn, followed by a bubbling little laugh.
“Yes, it’s Desire. What a lot of time you’re wasting. A whole minute! Time enough to decide the destiny of nations. And weren’t you punctual!—Can you come at once! Certainly not. Can’t you guess where I am? I shan’t be ready till twelve.—Oh, well, if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll expect you.”
He had intended to say more, but she rang off.
Streets were gilded31 with sunlight The sky was a smooth shell-like blue, without a cloud. It seemed much more distant than any sky he had seen in London. Over London the sky broods companionably; from London streets, even at their merriest the hint of melancholy32 is never absent But here, in New York, he was conscious of an invigorating reckless valor33, a magnificent and lonely daring. It was every man for himself. There was no friendship between the city and the heavens; as ladders of stone were set up higher against the blue, the heavens receded34 in challenge.
There was a tang of autumn in the air. Leaves on trees began to have a brittle35 look. Everything shone: trolley-lines, windows, the slender height of sky-scrapers. It was a wide day—just the day for adventures.
As he passed further uptown, he noticed that people walked more leisurely36; men’s faces grew rarer. He had a glimpse of the Park, a green valley of coolness between the quarried37, sun-dazzled crags of the metropolis38. Presently he turned off to the left, down one of those tunnels hewn between apartment-houses and sacred to the morning promenades39 of yapping dogs—proud little useless dogs like Twinkles, led on leashes40 by lately-risen mistresses. Then, in a flash, he saw the Hudson, going from one great quietness to another, sweeping41 down to the ocean full-bosomed and maternal42 from its sanctuary43 in the hills.
The elevator-boy seemed to have been warned of his coming; when he gave his name, he was taken up without suspicious preliminaries.
“Miss Desire hasn’t finished dressing44 yet,” the maid told, him. “If you’ll wait in here, she’ll be with you presently.”
He was shown into the room in which Vashti had played to him. He hadn’t taken much notice of it on his previous visit Now, as he tiptoed about he saw that it was expressive45 of its occupants’ personalities46. It had a gay, delicate, insubstantial air. It didn’t look lived in. Everything could be packed up within an hour. It wasn’t a home; it was what Vashti had called a “perch.”
The furniture was slight and dainty, as though there for appearance rather than for use. The sofa by the window seemed the only piece meant to be sat on. On the table a dwarf47 Japanese garden was growing. Beside it lay a copy of Wisdom and Destiny, opened and turned face down. The books within sight were few, for the most part plays and the latest fiction. They were strewn about with a calculated carelessness. On the walls was a water-color of the Grand Canal and another of the Bay of Naples. The rest of the pictures were elaborate photos of actresses, with spidery signatures scrawled across them. One face predominated: the face of a beautiful woman, with a vague smile upon her childish, self-indulgent mouth and a soft mass of hair swathed about her head. She was taken in a variety of poses, but always with the same vague smile and always with her face stooping, as though she were trying to hypnotize the onlooker48. One might have supposed that this was the den6 of a man who was in love with her. Scratched hurriedly in the corner of each of her portraits, prefaced by some extravagant49 sentiment, was the name “Fluffy.”
On the piano stood the photo of the only man in the collection, signed “To my dearest Girl.”
Teddy paused before it. He recognized the man who had brought Desire home last night—the man who had kept her from him. “To my dearest Girl.” He read and re-read it. Was that the secret of her indifference—that she was in love already? But wouldn’t Vashti have warned him? He stared his defiance50. The more inaccessible51 she became to him, the more he felt the need of her. Something of the valor and bright hardness of the day had entered into his soul. He was like those tall buildings, climbing more recklessly into the blue every time the sky receded from them. He didn’t care who claimed her. He was glad that he would have to fight. She was his by the divine right of the dreamer, and had been his for years. At whatever sacrifice he would win her. Inconsistently, the more difficult she became to him, the more certain he grew of success.
“Hulloa, King Arthur! Getting impatient? I’ll soon be> with you.”
He stepped to the door and looked out into the passage. “Impatient! Of course I’m impatient. Where are you?”
Her laugh floated back. “Where you’re not allowed to come. You can’t complain; I told you I wouldn’t be dressed till twelve.”
“It’s nearer one by now.”
“Is it? But you’ve nothing to do. If you hunt about, you’ll find some cigarettes. Make yourself happy.”
He had hoped she would continue the conversation; but her voice grew secret as she whispered to her maid. He heard cupboards and drawers being opened and shut, a snatch of song, and, every now and then, the infectious gayety of her laughter.
He came back into the room and smiled at the photo on the piano. “She mayn’t be in love with me yet, but she’s certainly not in love with you,” he thought. Then he stood gazing at his unresponsive rival, wondering how much he could tell.
He was still intent upon the portrait when she danced across the threshold, swinging her gloves.
“Taking a look at Tom? Be careful; you’ll make him jealous.” She slipped her small hand into his. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”
“D’you mean that—that you’re really glad?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief52, but she said demurely53: “Why shouldn’t I mean it? I’m always glad to see my friends.—And now, don’t you think you’ve held my hand long enough? See how lonely it looks, just as if it were asking me to put on its glove.”
She tripped over to the window and gazed out. “Isn’t it glorious?—And I feel so happy—so full of life, so young.” Her back was towards him; she felt him drawing nearer. “I ought to tell you about my hands before we know each other better. They have names. The right one is Miss Self-Reliance, and the left Miss Independence. They’re both of them very ambitious and—” she swung round, lowering her eyes—“and they don’t like being held.” He glanced at the photo on the piano. “Did no one ever hold them?”
“Hardly any one, truth and honest” She finished the last button and winked55 at him solemnly. “Here have I been ready since eleven, sending you cables and whole gardens of flowers.” She burst out laughing: “I’m glad you don’t drizzle56. Come on, I’m hungry for the sun.”
As they shot down in the elevator he asked her: “Drizzle! That’s a new word. What do you mean by it?”
“You’ll know soon enough.” She nodded. “Sooner or later all men do it. Tom drizzles57 most awfully58. He drizzled59 last night, when I didn’t want him to come up because I thought you’d be in the apartment.”
“Then you did think that? You hadn’t forgotten that it was the day I landed?”
“Forgotten after you’d cabled me! You must think me callous60.”
She gave her shoulders a haughty61 shrug62 and ran down the steps into the sunlight. He followed, inwardly laughing. Already she had taught him one way of stealing a march on the rest of her suitors. All the other men grew gloomy—“drizzled,” as she called it—when they fancied that she had hurt their feelings. He decided, then and there, that under no provocation63 whatsoever64 would he drizzle. She might do what she liked to him, he would always meet her smiling. Amor Omnia Vincit should be the legend written on his banner.
“What shall we do?” She clasped her hands against her throat in a gesture of ecstasy65.
“Anything you like.”
“Anything! Really anything? Even something quite expensive?”
“Hang the expense.”
“Then come on.”
He had no idea where she was taking him, and he didn’t care. All places were alike, so long as he was alone with her. They walked shoulder to shoulder, their arms just touching66. Sometimes in crossing a road they drew apart and then, as if to apologize for their brief aloofness67, came together with a little bump on the farther pavement. They were embarrassed, and glad to be embarrassed. When their silences had lasted too long, they stole furtive68 glances at each other; when their eyes met, they smiled archly.
They had passed through the tunnels where the dogs take their morning walks, and had come out on to Broadway. Suddenly she stopped and regarded him with an expression of unutterable calamity69.
“I’ve got to go back.”
“No, don’t—please.”
“I must.”
He scented70 tragedy—a previous engagement, perhaps. “But why—why, when we’ve only just met?”
“I’ve forgotten your lilies. I was going to wear them as—as an apology.”
He laughed his relief. “Pooh! There are heaps more.”
“But it isn’t that. I wouldn’t accept any more. It’s the dear old ones that I want—the ones you sent me almost the minute you landed.”
He glanced round sharply; a few doors off he saw a florist’s. “Don’t go back,” he pleaded. And then, with a frankness which he feared might offend her: “If you did go back, we might meet other people. I want you all to myself to-day; I can’t spare a second of you to other persons. Promise to stop here for me.”
“But I—perhaps I don’t want to lose a second of you to other persons.” She rested her hand on his arm lightly. “Where are you going?”
“Be back before you can say Jack71 Robinson.”
He darted72 off. As he entered the shop, he caught her slow smile of intelligence forbidding him.
While the flowers were being arranged, he kept his eyes turned to where she hovered73 on the pavement; the anxiety that she might escape him was not quite gone. He saw her hail a taxi. For a moment he thought—— But, no, she was having an earnest conversation.
“It’s all arranged, brother. We’re going to drive down
“Don’t tell me.” He banged the door and settled himself beside her. “Life’s much more surprising when you don’t know where you’re going.” He laid the flowers in her lap. “For you. You won’t refuse them?”
She bent over them curiously74, as though she hadn’t the least idea what he had been purchasing. As she stripped the paper from them and the white cup of the blossoms began to appear, she frowned severely75.
“Lilies of the valley! You’re too good. You spoil me. And now you’ll think that I was asking for them. No. I won’t wear them.”
Having registered her protest, she at once rewarded him with her fluttering delight as she turned back her coatee and tried several effects before finally deciding where to fasten them.
While he had walked at her side, he had been too embarrassed to take much notice of how she was dressed.
Now that her attention was occupied, he grew bold to examine her toilet.
Her beauty was a subtle, intoxicating76 perfume, like incense77 suggesting the spirit of worship. She was different from his mother—different even from Vashti, and from any woman that he had known. Her difference might not be the result of virtues—might even be due to omitted qualities. He did not stop to analyze78; to him the very newness of her type was a fascination79.
Nothing that she wore was useful. It was perishable80 as a spring garden. A shower of rain, and it would be eternally ruined. None of it could be employed as second-best when its first freshness was gone. It couldn’t even be given to the poor: her attire21 was too modish—it bespoke81 luxury and marked the wearer’s class in society. Her clothes were the whim82 of the moment—utterly uneconomic. If Mrs. Sheerug had had to pass judgment83 on them, she would have said that they weren’t sensible.
In the exact sense they weren’t even clothing; they were adornments, planned with a view to exposing quite as much as to concealing84 the person. To enhance the effect of beauty was their sole purpose.
The skirt was a creamy shade of muslin, with small green and blue flowers dotted over it. It was thin and blowy, and so modeled as to pronounce rather than to hide the lines of the figure. A pair of pretty feet peeped from under; the kind of feet that demand a carriage and are not meant for walking. They were clad in gossamer85 silk-stockings; the shoes seemed to have been designed for dancing and were absurdly high in the heel. Both shoes and stockings exactly matched the creamy tint86 of the muslin. Teddy thought with joy that any one who wore them would be in constant need of a man’s protection. There would be many puddles87 in life over which, with such shoes, she would require to be carried.
The coatee was of apple-green satin, turned back from the neck and belted in at the waist, revealing a gauzy blouse cut into a low V-shape, so as to display the gentle breathing of the throat and breast.
His eyes stole up to her face. It was shadowed by a broad hat of limp straw, trimmed with dog-roses and trailing cherry-colored ribbon. On her fresh young cheeks was the faintest dust of powder, giving to them a false bloom and smoothness. He wondered why she did that, when her unaided complexion88 would have been so much more attractive. Below her left eye was a beauty-patch. Behind her left ear hung a tremulous curl, which added a touch of demure54 quaintness89. In appearance she was like to one of Lely’s portraits of the beauties of the Cavalier period—to a Nell Gwynn, whose very aspect of innocence90 made her latent naughtiness the more provocative91.
Though he was exceptionally ignorant of the feminine arts and familiar only with domestic types of women, Teddy thought that he now understood why she had taken two hours to dress. For his sake she had made herself a work of art. It was as though she had told him, “I want you to like me better than any girl in the world, Teddy”—only, for some unexplained reason, she had avoided calling him Teddy as yet.
He sat watching her as she pinned the lilies against her breast How pretty her hair was, with its reddish tinge92 like specks93 of gold shining through its blackness! And her ears—they were like pale petals94 enmeshed within her tresses.
He couldn’t blame her if other men had loved her first; but he wished they hadn’t. The knowledge had come as a shock.
“Been inspecting me for quite some time! Do I meet with monsieur’s approval?” She leant her head at a perky angle and glanced up at him.
“Approval! My mind was made up before I started. I didn’t come to America to——”
“No, I know.” She cut him short. “Mother told me: you’re a gree-at success. You came on business.—Please don’t interrupt; I’ve something most important to tell you. I do want you to approve of me to-day— to-day most especially. That’s why I didn’t get up till eleven.” She saw the smile creeping round the edges of his mouth. “I didn’t mean that the way you thought. You’re looking sarcastic95 and—and I hate sarcastic persons. I stayed in bed to get rested that I might look my prettiest, because——- Presently I’ll tell you. I’ve done something terrible; No, I won’t tell you now—later. But promise you’ll forgive me.”
“Forgive you!” His voice trembled. Had he dared, he would have slipped his arm about her; but she had huddled96 herself closer into her corner. “I’ll forgive you anything, if you’ll do one thing to please me.”
He waited for her to ask him what it was; but her strategic faculty97 for silence again asserted itself. She sat, not looking at him, with her eyes shaded.
It was a childish longing98 that prompted him to make his request. “I want to see your hands,” he whispered. “They’re so beautiful. It’s a shame to keep them covered. On my word of honor,” he sank his voice, “I won’t—won’t take advantage.”
She considered poutingly99 whether she would grant the favor.
“The first I’ve ever asked,” he urged.
The smile came like sunshine flashing through cloud. “That kind is rarely the last.”
She pulled off the glove from her right-hand, Miss Self-Reliance, because it was furthest from him.
“When I was very little,” she said, “I used to ask you whether I was pretty. You used to drizzle in those days; all you’d tell me was, ’You have beautiful hands.’ Then Bones and I would steal away and cry in the currant-bushes. D’you remember?”
“I must have been a grudging100 little beast.”
“No, you were a nice boy when you weren’t quite horrid101. But if I were to ask you now, ’Do you think I’m pretty?’ Please don’t answer. I’m not asking. But because of all that—the times we used to have—let’s be good playfellows while it lasts. We won’t say silly things or do silly things. Let’s be tremendously sensible. There! That’s a bargain.”
It wasn’t. If being in love wasn’t sensible, the last thing he wanted was to be sensible. He hadn’t come to America to be sensible in her meaning of the word. But the swiftness with which she took his consent for granted left no room for argument. She might mistake his arguing for drizzling—the fault which she held the most in contempt. So he kept both his tongue and his hands quiet, doing his best to forget all the ardent102 scenes which his imagination had conjured103.
The lonely distance in the taxi between his corner and hers seemed to have widened. They passed over a long cat’s-cradle of girders, spanning the East River. She didn’t speak. She sat with her ungloved hand before her eyes and her face averted104. Any stranger who had glanced in on them at that moment would have said they had quarreled. It felt very much like it to Teddy.
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1
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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offhand
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| adj.临时，无准备的；随便，马虎的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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postscript
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| n.附言，又及；(正文后的)补充说明 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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omissions
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| n.省略( omission的名词复数 )；删节；遗漏；略去或漏掉的事（或人） | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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sketches
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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panes
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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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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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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melancholy
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valor
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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leisurely
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quarried
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| v.从采石场采得( quarry的过去式和过去分词 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
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metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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promenades
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| n.人行道( promenade的名词复数 )；散步场所；闲逛v.兜风( promenade的第三人称单数 ) | |
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leashes
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| n.拴猎狗的皮带( leash的名词复数 ) | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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onlooker
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| n.旁观者，观众 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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56
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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drizzles
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| 蒙蒙细雨，毛毛雨( drizzle的名词复数 ) | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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drizzled
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| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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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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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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quaintness
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| n.离奇有趣，古怪的事物 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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99
poutingly
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| adv.撅嘴 | |
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100
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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101
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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102
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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103
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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104
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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