I
After that last glimpse of the Clockwork man, and the conversation with Doctor Allingham and Gregg that followed, Arthur had hurried home to his tea. No amount of interest in the affair, however stupendous it might appear both to himself and others, could dissuade2 him from his usual Saturday night's programme. Rose Lomas, to whom he had recently become engaged, was a hundred times more important than a clockwork man, and whether a human being could actually exist who walked and talked by mechanical means was a small problem in comparison with that of changing his clothes, washing and tidying himself up in time for his assignation. As soon as the cricketers showed signs of stirring themselves, and so conveyed the comforting impression that they were not dead, Arthur felt himself able to resume normal existence.
His lodgings3 were situated4 at the lower end of the town. The accommodation consisted[Pg 64] of a small bedroom, which he shared with a fellow clerk, and a place at table with the other inmates5 of the house. The street was very dirty, and Mrs. Flack's house alone presented some sign of decency6 and respectability. It was a two-storied red brick cottage. There was no front garden, and you entered directly into a living room through a door, upon which a brass7 plate was fixed8 that bore the following announcement:—
MRS. FLACK
Trained Midwife.
Arthur stumbled into the room, dropped his straw hat on to the broken-down couch that occupied the entire side of one wall, and sat down at the table.
Mr. Flack, who was seated in his arm-chair by the fire-place, looked up in amazement11. His interest in cricket was immense, but chronic12 rheumatism13 prevented him from getting as far as the ground. He was dependent upon Arthur's reports and the local paper. "'Ow's that, then?" he demanded, slowly.
Arthur swallowed quickly and tried to[Pg 65] explain. But, although the affair was still hot in his mind, he found it exceedingly difficult to describe exactly what had taken place. The doings of the Clockwork man were at once obvious and inexplicable14. It was almost impossible to intrigue15 people who had not actually witnessed the affair into a realisation of such extraordinary happenings. Arthur had to resort to abrupt16 movements of his arms and legs in order to produce an effect. But he made a great point of insistence17 upon the ear-flapping.
"Go hon!" exclaimed Mrs. Flack, leaning her red folded arms upon the table, "well I never!"
"'Tain't possible," objected her husband, "'e's pulling your leg, ma."
But Arthur persisted in his imitations, without caring very much whether his observers believed him or not. It at least afforded an entertaining occupation. Mrs. Flack's motherly bosom18 rose and fell with merriment. "It's as good as the pictures," she announced at last, wiping her eyes. But when Arthur spoke19 about the loud noise, and hinted that the Clockwork man's internal arrangements consisted of some kind of machinery20, Mr. Flack sat bolt upright and shook his head gravely.
"You're a masterpiece," he remarked,[Pg 66] "that's what you are." This was his usual term for anything out the way. "You ain't a going to get me to believe that, not at my age.
"If you saw him," said Arthur, emphatically, "you'd have to believe. It's just that, and nothing else. He's like one of those mechanical toys come to life. And it's so funny. You'd never guess."
Mr. Flack shook his head thoughtfully. Presently he got up, walked to the end of the mantelpiece, placed his smoked-out pipe on the edge and took an empty one from behind an ornament21. Then he returned to his seat and sat for a long time with the empty pipe in his mouth.
"'T'ain't possible," he ruminated22, at last, "not for a bloke to 'ave machinery inside 'im. At least, not to my way of thinking."
Arthur finished his tea and got up from his chair. Conscious that his efforts so far had not carried conviction, he spent a few moments of valuable time in an attempt to supplement them.
"He went like this," he explained, imitating the walk of the Clockwork man, and at the same time snapping his fingers to suggest sharp clicking noises. "And the row! Well, you know what a motor sounds like when it's being wound up. Like that, only worse."
[Pg 67]
Mrs. Flack held the greater part of herself in a semicircle of red arm. "You are a one," she declared. Then she looked at Mr. Flack, who sat unmoved. "Why don't you laugh. It would do you good. You take everything so serious."
"I ain't a going to laugh," said Mr. Flack, "not unless I see fit to laugh." And he continued to stare gravely at Arthur's elaborate posturing23. Presently the latter remembered his urgent appointment and disappeared through the narrow door that led upstairs.
"Whoever 'e be," said Mr. Flack, referring to the strange visitor to Great Wymering, "I should judge 'im to be a bit of a masterpiece."
II
Upstairs in the bedroom, Arthur hastily removed his flannels25 and paced the limited amount of floor space between the two beds. What a little box of a place it was, and how absurdly crammed26 with furniture! You couldn't move an inch without bumping into things or knocking something over. There wasn't room to swing a cat, much less to perform an elaborate toilet with that amount of leisurely27 comfort necessary to its successful accomplishment28. Ordinarily he didn't notice these things; it was only when he was in a[Pg 68] hurry, and had all sorts of little duties to carry out, that the awkwardness of his surroundings forced themselves into his mind and produced a sense of revolt. There were times when everything seemed a confounded nuisance and a chair stuck in your way made you feel inclined to pitch it out of the window. Just when you wanted to enjoy simply being yourself, when your thoughts were running in a pleasant, easeful way, you had to turn to and dress or undress, shave or wash, prepare yourself for the conventions of life. So much of existence was spent in actions that were obligatory29 only because other people expected you to do the same as themselves. It wasn't so much a waste of time as a waste of life.
He rescued his trousers from underneath30 the mattress31. It was only recently that he had discovered this obvious substitute for a trouser press, and so added one more nuisance to existence. It was something else to be remembered. He grinned pleasantly at the thought of the circumstance which had brought about these careful habits. Rose Lomas liked him to look smart, and he had managed it somehow. There were plenty of dapper youths in Great Wymering, and Arthur had been astute32 enough to notice wherein he had differed from them, in the first stages of his courting. Early rebuffs had led him to perceive that the[Pg 69] eye of love rests primarily upon a promising33 exterior34, and only afterwards discovers the interior qualities that justify35 a wise choice. Arthur had been spurned36 at first on account of a slovenliness37 that, to do him justice, was rather the result of personal conviction, however erring24, than mere38 carelessness. He really had felt that it was a waste of life even to spend half an hour a month inside a barber's shop. Not only that, but the experience was far-reaching in its unpleasant consequences. You went into the shop feeling agreeably familiar with yourself, conscious of intense personality; and you came out a nonentity39, smelling of bay-rum. The barber succeeded in transforming you from an individual brimming over with original reflections and impulses into a stranger without a distinctive40 notion in your head. The barber, in fact, was a Delilah in trousers; he ravished the locks from your head and bewitched you into the bargain.
Arthur had a strong sense of originality41, although he would have been the last person to claim originality in his thoughts. He disliked interference with any part of his personal being. As a boy he had been perturbed42 by the prospect43 of growing up. It had seemed to him such a hopeless sort of process, a mere longitudinal extension, without corresponding gain in other magnitudes. He suspected that[Pg 70] other dubious44 advantages were only to be purchased at the expense of a thinning out of the joys of childhood. Later on, he discovered, sadly enough, that this was the case; although it was possible deliberately45 to protract46 one's adolescence47. Hence his untidiness, his inefficiency48, and even his obtuseness49, were less constitutional faults than weapons in the warfare50 against the encroachment51 of time.
But the authorities at the bank regarded them as grave defects in his character.
Falling in love had revealed the matter in a very different light. It was quite worth while yielding to fashion in order to win the affection of Rose Lomas. And so he had imitated his rivals. He cast aside all ties that revealed their linings52, trimmed up the cuffs53 of his shirts; overcame with an effort a natural repugnance54 to wearing his best clothes; and generally submitted himself to that daily supervision55 of superficial matters which he could now regard as the prelude56 to happy hours. And Rose, interested in that conquest of himself for her sake, had soon learned how much there was beneath the polished surface to capture her heart.
Yes, love made everything different! You were ready to put up with all inconveniences and indignities57 for the sake of that strange obsession58. That thought consoled him as he[Pg 71] crept on hands and knees in order to pick up his safety razor that had dropped behind the bulky chest of drawers. Love accounted for everything, both serious and comic.
He found his razor, plunged59 it into cold water—he had forgotten to ask Mrs. Flack for hot, and couldn't be bothered now—and lathered60 his face thoughtfully.
How many times, in the course of a lifetime, would he repeat that operation? And he would always stand in exactly the same way, with his legs straddled apart, and his elbows spanning out like flappers. He would always pass the razor over his face in a certain manner, avoiding those places where even the sharpest blade boggled a little, proceeding61 with the same mechanical strokes until the job was once more accomplished62. Afterwards, he would laboriously63 separate the portions of his razor and wipe them methodically, always in the same order. That was because, once you had decided64 upon the right way to do a thing you adopted that method for good.
He achieved that second grand sweep of the left side of his face, ending at the corner of his mouth, and followed it up by a swift, upward stroke, annihilating65 the bristly tuft underneath his lower lip. Looking swiftly at the clock, he noticed that it was getting dreadfully late. That was another curious problem of existence.[Pg 72] You were always up against time. Generally, when you had to do something or get somewhere, there was this sense of breathless hurry and a disconcerting feeling that the world ended abruptly66 at the conclusion of every hour and then began again quite differently. The clock, in fact, was another tyrant67, robbing you of that sensation of being able to go on for ever without changing. That was why people said, when they consulted their watches "How's the enemy?"
He attacked the problem of his upper lip with sturdy resolution. It was important that this part of his face should be quite smooth. There must not be even a suspicion of roughness. Tears started into his eyes as he harrowed that tender surface. He drew in his breath sharply, and in that moment of voluntary and glad travail68 achieved a metaphysical conception of the first magnitude.
All really important questions in life came under the heading of Time and Space, thought of in capital letters. Recently, he had struggled through a difficult book, in which the author used these expressions a great many times, although in a sense difficult to grasp. Nevertheless, it suddenly became obvious, in a small way, exactly what the chap had been driving at.
And somehow, his thoughts instantly returned to the Clockwork man. He performed[Pg 73] the rest of his toilet swiftly, the major part of his brain occupied with reflections that had for their drift the curious ease with which you could perform some operations in life without consciously realising the fact.
III
"Oh, I'm not nearly ready yet!"
Rose Lomas stood at the open window of her bedroom. Her bare arms and shoulders gleamed softly in the twilight69. One hand held her loosened hair on the top of her head, and the other pressed a garment to her chest.
Rose looked cautiously around as though to make sure no one else was in a position to observe her decolleté. But the road was empty. It seemed pleasant to see Arthur standing there twirling his walking stick and looking upwards72 at her. She decided to keep him there for a few moments.
"Lovely evening," she remarked, presently.
"Yes, jolly," said Arthur, "buck up."
"You're not even dressed!"
"I am," Rose insisted, distantly, "much more than you think. I've got lots on."
They looked solemnly at one another for a[Pg 74] long while without even approaching a "stare out."
"How many runs did you make," Rose asked. She had to repeat the question again before he could hear it distinctly. Besides, he never could believe that her interest in cricket was serious.
"None," he admitted, "but I was not out."
Rose considered. "That's not as good as making runs though."
Arthur heard a slight noise somewhere round the back of the cottage. "Someone coming," he warned.
Rose retreated a few steps and lowered her head.
"Walk up the lane," she whispered, "I'll come presently."
"Alright," Arthur nodded, "buck up."
He walked a few yards up the road, and then turned through a wicket gate and mounted the hump of a meadow. The narrow path swerved74 slightly to right and left. Arthur fell to meditating75 upon paths in general and how they came into existence. Obviously, it was because people always walked in the same way. Countless76 footsteps, following the same line until the grass wore away. That was very odd when you came to think about it. Why didn't people choose different ways of crossing that particular meadow? Then there would[Pg 75] be innumerable paths, representing a variety of choice. It would be interesting to start a path of your own, and see how many people would follow you, even though you deliberately chose a circuitous77 or not obviously direct route. You could come every day until the path was made.
He climbed over the top of the meadow, descended78 again into a valley, and stopped before a stile with hedges running away on either side. He decided to wait here for Rose. It would be pleasant to see her coming over the hill.
It was gloaming now. The few visible stars shone with a peculiar79 individual brightness, and looked strangely pendulous80 in the fading blue sky. He leaned back and gazed at the depths above him. This time of the day was always puzzling. You could never tell exactly at what moment the sky really changed into the aspect of evening, and then, night. Yet there must be some subtle moment when each star was born. Perhaps by looking hard enough it would be possible to become aware of these things. It would be like watching a bud unfold. Slow change was an impenetrable mystery, for actually things seemed to happen too quickly for you to notice them. Or rather, you were too busy to notice them. Spring was like that. Every year you made up your[Pg 76] mind to notice the first blossoming, the initial tinge81 of green; but always it happened that you awoke one morning and found that some vast change had taken place, so that it really seemed like a miracle.
He sat there, dangling82 an empty pipe between his teeth. He was not conscious of a desire to smoke, and he felt strangely tolerant of Rose's delay. She would come presently.
Presently his reverie was abruptly disturbed by a faint noise, strangely familiar although remote. It seemed to reach him from the right, as though something crept slowly along the hedge line, hidden from his view. It was a soft, purring sound, very regular and sustained. At first he thought it was the cry of a pheasant, but decided that it was much too persistent83. It was something that made a noise in the process of walking along.
He held his breath and turned his head slowly to the right. For a long time the sound increased only very slightly. And then, there broke upon the general stillness a series of abrupt explosions.
Pfft—Pfft—Pfft—Pfft—Pfft—
And the other noise, the purring and whirring, resumed this time so close to Arthur that he instinctively84, and half in fear, arose from the stile and looked around him. But the tall hedges sweeping85 away on either side[Pg 77] made it difficult to see anyone who might be approaching under their cover. There was a pause. Then a different sound.
Click—click—clickerty click—clicker clicker—clicker— And so on, becoming louder and louder until at last it stopped, and its place was taken by the dull pitter-patter of footsteps coming nearer and nearer. There was a little harsh snort that might have been intended for a sigh, and then a voice.
"Oh dear, it is trying. It really is most dreadfully trying—"
The next moment the Clockwork man came into full view round the corner of the hedge. He was swaying slightly from side to side, in his usual fashion, and his eyes stared straight ahead of him. He did not appear to notice Arthur, and did not stop until the latter politely stepped aside in order to allow him to pass. Then the Clockwork man screwed his head slowly round and appeared to become faintly apprehensive86 of the presence of another being. After a preliminary ear-flapping, he opened his mouth very wide.
"No," said Arthur, and he glanced at the Clockwork man's bald forehead and noticed something peculiar about the construction of the back of his head; there seemed to be[Pg 78] some object there which he could not see because they were facing each other. "I'm sorry," he continued, looking rather hopelessly around him, "perhaps we could find them somewhere."
"Somewhere!" echoed the Clockwork man, "that's what seems to me so extraordinary! Everybody says that. The idea of a thing being somewhere, you know. Elsewhere than where you expect it to be. It's so confusing."
Arthur consulted his common sense. "Can't you remember the place where you lost them," he suggested.
A faint wrinkle of perplexity appeared on the other's forehead. He shook his head once "Place. There, again, I can't grasp that idea. What is a place? And how does a thing come to be in one place and not in another?" He jerked a hand up as though to emphasise88 the point. "A thing either is or it isn't. It can't be in a place."
"But it must be somewhere," objected Arthur, "that's obvious."
The Clockwork man looked vaguely89 distressed90. "Theoretically," he agreed, "what you say is correct. I can conceive it as a mathematical problem. But actually, you know, it isn't at all obvious."
He jerked his head slowly round and gazed at the surrounding objects. "It's such an[Pg 79] extraordinary world. I can't get used to it at all. One keeps on bumping into things and falling into things—things that ought not to be there, you know."
Arthur could hardly control an eager curiosity to know what the thing was, round and shiny, that looked like a sort of halo at the back of the Clockwork man's head. He kept on dodging91 from one side to the other in an effort to see it clearly.
"Are you looking at my clock?" enquired the Clockwork man, without altering his tone of speech. "I must apologise. I feel quite indecent."
"It's the regulating mechanism," said the other, monotonously93, "I keep on forgetting that you can't know these things. You see, it controls me. But, of course, it's out of order. That's how I came to be here, in this absurd world. There can't be any other reason, I'm sure." He looked so childishly perplexed94 that Arthur's sense of pity was again aroused, and he listened in respectful silence.
"You see," the mechanical voice went on, "only about half the clock is in action. That accounts for my present situation." There was a pause, broken only by obscure tickings, regular but thin in sound. "I had been feeling very run down, and went to have myself[Pg 80] attended to. Then some careless mechanic blundered, and of course I went all wrong." He turned swiftly and looked hard at Arthur. "All wrong. Absolutely all wrong. And of course, I—I—lapsed95, you see."
"Yes, I lapsed. Slipped, if you like that better—slipped back about eight thousand years, so far as I can make out. And, of course, everything is different." His arms shot up both together in an abrupt gesture of despair. "And now I am confronted with all these old problems of Time and Space."
Arthur's recent reflections returned to him, and produced a little glow in his mind. "Is there a world," he questioned, "where the problems of Time and Space are different?"
"Of course," replied the Clockwork man, clicking slightly, "quite different. The clock, you see, made man independent of Time and Space. It solved everything."
"But what happens," Arthur wanted to know, "when the clock works properly?"
"Everything happens," said the other, "exactly as you want it to happen."
"Exceedingly." The Clockwork man's head nodded up and down with a regular rhythm. "The whole aim of man is convenience." He jerked himself forward a few paces, as though[Pg 81] impelled98 against his will. "But my present situation, you know, is extremely inconvenient99."
He waddled100 swiftly along, and, to Arthur's great disappointment, disappeared round the corner of the hedge, so that it was impossible to get more than a fleeting101 glimpse of that fascinating object at the back of his head. But he was still speaking.
"I don't know what I shall do, I'm sure," Arthur heard him say, as though to himself.
VIII
Rose Lomas came slowly over the top of the hill. She was hatless, and her short, curly hair blew about her face, for a slight breeze had sprung up in the wake of the sunset. She wore a navy blue jacket over a white muslin blouse with a deep V at the breast. There was a fair stretch of plump leg, stockinged in black cashmere, between the edge of her dark skirt and the beginning of the tall boots that had taken so long to button up. She walked with her chin tilted102 upwards and her eyes half closed, and her hands were thrust into the slanting103 pockets of her jacket.
"Whoever was that person you were talking to?" she enquired, as soon as they stood together.
"Oh, someone who had lost his way," said[Pg 82] Arthur, carelessly. He felt curiously104 disinclined to explain matters just at present. The Clockwork man was disconcerting. He was a rather terrifying side-issue. Arthur had a feeling that Rose would probably be frightened by him, for she was a timid girl. He half hoped now that this strange being would turn out to be some kind of monstrous105 hoax106.
And so he said nothing. They remained by the stile, courting each other and the silent on-coming of night. They were very ordinary lovers, and behaved just exactly in the same way as other people in the same condition. They kissed at intervals107 and examined each other's faces with portentous108 gravity and microscopic109 care. Leaning against the stile, they were frequently interrupted by pedestrians110, some of whom took special care to light their pipes as they passed. But the disturbance111 scarcely affected112 them. Being lovers, they belonged to each other; and the world about them also belonged to them, and seemed to fashion its laws in accordance with their desires. They would not have offered you twopence for a reformed House of Commons or an enlightened civilisation113.
"Oh, Arthur," said Rose, suddenly, "I want to be like this always, don't you?"
"Yes," murmured Arthur, and then caught[Pg 83] his breath sharply. For his ear had detected a faint throbbing114 and palpitation in the distance. It seemed to echo from the far-off hills, a sort of "chew chew," constantly repeated. And presently, another and more familiar sound aroused his attention. It was the "toot-toot" of an automobile115 and the jerk of a brake. And then the steady whine116 of the engine as the car ascended117 a hill. Perhaps they were pursuing the Clockwork man. Arthur hoped not. It seemed to him the troubles of that strange being were bad enough without there being added to them the persecutions suffered by those to whom existence represents an endless puzzle, full of snares118 and surprises.
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withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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dissuade
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| v.劝阻，阻止 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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enquired
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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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amazement
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chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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abrupt
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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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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machinery
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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ruminated
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posturing
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erring
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flannels
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| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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crammed
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leisurely
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accomplishment
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obligatory
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underneath
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mattress
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astute
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promising
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exterior
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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spurned
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slovenliness
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mere
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nonentity
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| n.无足轻重的人 | |
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distinctive
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| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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46
protract
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| v.延长，拖长 | |
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47
adolescence
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| n.青春期，青少年 | |
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48
inefficiency
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| n.无效率，无能；无效率事例 | |
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49
obtuseness
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| 感觉迟钝 | |
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50
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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51
encroachment
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| n.侵入，蚕食 | |
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52
linings
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| n.衬里( lining的名词复数 )；里子；衬料；组织 | |
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53
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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54
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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56
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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57
indignities
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| n.侮辱，轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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59
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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lathered
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| v.（指肥皂）形成泡沫( lather的过去式和过去分词 )；用皂沫覆盖；狠狠地打 | |
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61
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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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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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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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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annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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travail
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| n.阵痛；努力 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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71
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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72
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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bucking
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| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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circuitous
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| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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pendulous
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| adj.下垂的；摆动的 | |
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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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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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83
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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85
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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87
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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88
emphasise
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| vt.加强...的语气，强调，着重 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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91
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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95
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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98
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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100
waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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102
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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103
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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104
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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105
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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106
hoax
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| v.欺骗，哄骗，愚弄；n.愚弄人，恶作剧 | |
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107
intervals
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| 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 | |
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108
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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109
microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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110
pedestrians
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| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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111
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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112
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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113
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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114
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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115
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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116
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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117
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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