THE CLOCKWORK MAN EXPLAINS HIMSELF
I
Late that evening the Doctor returned from a confinement1 case, which had taken him to one of the outlying villages near Great Wymering. The engine was grinding and straining as the car slowly ascended2 a steep incline that led into the town; and the Doctor leaned forward in the seat, both hands gripping the wheel, and his eyes peering through the wind-screen at the stretch of well-lit road ahead of him.
He had almost reached the top of the hill, and was about to change his gear, when a figure loomed3 up out of the darkness and made straight for the car. The Doctor hastily jammed his brake down, but too late to avert4 a collision. There was a violent bump; and the next moment the car began running backwards5 down the hill, followed by the figure, who had apparently6 suffered no inconvenience from the contact.
Aware that his brakes were not strong enough to avert another disaster, the Doctor deftly7 turned the car sideways and ran back[Pg 132]wards into the hedge. He leapt out into the road and approached the still moving figure.
"What the devil!"
The figure stopped with startling suddenness, but offered no explanation.
"What are you playing at?" the Doctor demanded, glancing at the crumpled8 bonnet9 of his car. "It's a wonder I didn't kill you."
And then, as he approached nearer to that impassive form, staring at him with eyes that glittered luridly10 in the darkness, he recognised something familiar about his appearance. At the same moment he realised that this singular individual had actually run into the car without apparently incurring11 the least harm. The reflection rendered the Doctor speechless for a few seconds; he could only stare confusedly at the Clockwork man. The latter remained static, as though, in his turn, trying to grasp the significance of what had happened.
It occurred to the Doctor that here was an opportunity to investigate certain matters.
"Look here," he broke out, after a collected pause, "once and for all, who are you?"
A question, sharply put, generally produced some kind of effect upon the Clockwork man. It seemed to release the mechanism12 in his brain that made coherent speech possible. But his reply was disconcerting.
[Pg 133]
"Who are you?" he demanded, after a preliminary click or two.
"I am a doctor," said Allingham, rather taken back, "a medical man. If you are hurt at all—"
An extra gleam of light shone in the other's eye, and he seemed to ponder deeply over this statement.
"Why yes, I suppose it does," Allingham admitted, not knowing what else to say.
The Clockwork man sighed, a long, whistling sigh. "I wish you would mend me. I'm all wrong you know. Something has got out of place, I think. My clock won't work properly."
"Your clock," echoed the doctor.
"It's rather difficult to explain," the Clockwork man continued, "but so far as I remember, doctors were people who used to mend human beings before the days of the clock. Now they are called mechanics. But it amounts to the same thing."
"If you will come with me to my surgery," the Doctor suggested, with as much calmness as he could assume, "I'll do my best for you."
The Clockwork man bowed stiffly. "Thank you. Of course, I'm a little better than I was, but my ears still flap occasionally."
The Doctor scarcely heard this. He had[Pg 134] turned aside and stooped down in order to rewind the engine of his car. When he looked up again he beheld14 an extraordinary sight.
The Clockwork man was standing15 by his side, a comic expression of pity and misgiving16 animating17 his crude features. With one hand he was softly stroking the damaged bonnet of the car.
"Poor thing," he was saying, "It must be suffering dreadfully. I am so sorry."
Allingham paused in the turning of the handle and stared, aghast, at his companion. There was no mistaking the significance of the remark, and it had been spoken in tones of strange tenderness. Rapidly there swept across the Doctor's mind a sensation of complete conviction. If there was any further proof required of the truth of Gregg's conjecture19, surely it was expressed in this apparently insane and yet obviously sincere solicitude20 on the part of the Clockwork man for an inanimate machine? He recognised in the mechanism before him a member of his own species!
The thing was at once preposterous21 and rational, and the Doctor almost yielded to a desire to laugh hysterically23. Then, with a final jerk of the handle, he started the engine and opened the door of the car for the Clockwork man to enter. The latter, after making several absurd attempts to mount the step in the[Pg 135] ordinary manner, stumbled and fell head foremost into the interior. The Doctor followed, and picking up the prostrate24 figure, placed him in a sitting posture25 upon the seat. He was extraordinarily26 light, and there was something about the feel of his body that sent a thrill of apprehension27 down the Doctor's spine28. He was thoroughly29 frightened by now, and the manner in which his companion took everything for granted only increased his alarm.
"I know one thing," the Clockwork man remarked, as the car began to move, "I'm devilish hungry."
II
That the Clockwork man was likely to prove a source of embarrassment30 to him in more ways than one was demonstrated to the Doctor almost as soon as they entered the house. Mrs. Masters, who was laying the supper, regarded the visitor with a slight huffiness. He obtruded31 upon her vision as an extra meal for which she was not prepared. And the Doctor's manner was not reassuring32. He seemed, for the time being, to lack that urbanity which usually enabled him to smooth over the awkward situations in life. It was unfortunate, perhaps, that he should have allowed Mrs. Masters to develop an attitude of distrust, but he was[Pg 136] nervous, and that was sufficient to put the good lady on her guard.
"Lay an extra place, will you, Mrs. Masters," the Doctor had requested as they entered the room.
"I'm afraid you'll 'ave to make do," was the sharp rejoinder, for there was not much on the table, and the Doctor favoured a light supper. "There's watercress," she added, defensively.
The Clockwork man stared blankly at his interrogator34. "Watercress," he remarked, "is not much in my line. Something solid, if you have it, and as much as possible. I feel a trifle faint."
He sat down rather hurriedly, on the couch, and the Doctor scanned him anxiously for symptoms. But there were none of an alarming character. He had not removed his borrowed hat and wig35.
"Bring up anything you can find," the Doctor whispered in Mrs. Masters' ear, "my friend has had rather a long journey. Anything you can find. Surely we have things in tins."
His further suggestions were drowned by an enormous hy?na-like yawn coming from the direction of the couch. It was followed by another, even more prodigious36. The room[Pg 137] fairly vibrated with the Clockwork man's uncouth37 expression of omnivorous38 appetite.
"Bless us!" Mrs. Masters could not help saying. "Manners!"
"Is there anything you particularly fancy?" enquired the Doctor.
"Eggs," announced the figure on the couch. "Large quantities of eggs—infinite eggs."
"See what you can do in the matter of eggs,'' urged the Doctor, and Mrs. Masters departed, with the light of expedition in her eye, for to feed a hungry man, even one whom she regarded with suspicion, was part of her religion.
"I'm afraid I put you to great inconvenience," murmured the visitor, still yawning and rolling about on the couch. "The fact is, I ought to be able to produce things—but that part of me seems to have gone wrong again. I did make a start—but it was only a flash in the pan. So sorry if I'm a nuisance."
"Not at all," said the Doctor, endeavouring without much success to treat his guest as an ordinary being, "I am to blame. I ought to have realised that you would require nourishment39. But, of course, I am still in the dark—"
He paused abruptly41, aware that certain peculiar42 changes were taking place in the physiognomy of the Clockwork man. His strange organism seemed to be undergoing a series of exceedingly swift and complicated[Pg 138] physical and chemical processes. His complexion43 changed colour rapidly, passing from its usual pallor to a deep greenish hue44, and then to a hectic45 flush. Concurrent46 with this, there was a puzzling movement of the corpuscles and cells just beneath the skin.
The Doctor was scarcely as yet in the mind to study these phenomena47 accurately48. At the back of his mind there was the thought of Mrs. Masters returning with the supper. He tried to resume ordinary speech, but the Clockwork man seemed abstracted, and the unfamiliarity49 of his appearance increased every second. It seemed to the Doctor that he had remembered a little dimple on the middle of the Clockwork man's chin, but now he couldn't see the dimple. It was covered with something brownish and delicate, something that was rapidly spreading until it became almost obvious.
"You see," exclaimed the Doctor, making a violent effort to ignore his own perceptions, "it's all so unexpected. I'm afraid I shan't be able to render you much assistance until I know the actual facts, and even then—"
He gripped the back of a chair. It was no longer possible for him to deceive himself about the mysterious appearance on the Clockwork man's chin. He was growing a beard—swiftly and visibly. Already some of the hairs had reached to his collar.
[Pg 139]
"I beg your pardon," said the Clockwork man, suddenly becoming conscious of the hirsute50 development. "Irregular growth—most inconvenient—it's due to my condition—I'm all to pieces, you know—things happen spontaneously." He appeared to be struggling hard to reverse some process within himself, but the beard continued to grow.
The Doctor found his voice again. "Great heavens," he burst out, in a hysterical22 shout. "Stop it. You must stop it—I simply can't stand it."
He had visions of a room full of golden brown beard. It was the most appalling51 thing he had ever witnessed, and there was no trickery about it. The beard had actually grown before his eyes, and it had now reached to the second button of the Clockwork man's waistcoat. And, at any moment, Mrs. Masters might return!
Suddenly, with a violent effort involving two sharp flappings of his ears, the Clockwork man mastered his difficulty. He appeared to set in action some swift depilatory process. The beard vanished as if by magic. The doctor collapsed52 into a chair.
"You mustn't do anything like that again," he muttered hoarsely53. "You—must—let—me—know—when—you—feel it—coming on."
In spite of his agitation54, it occurred to him[Pg 140] that he must be prepared for worse shocks than this. It was no use giving way to panic. Incredible as had been the cricketing performance, the magical flight, and now this ridiculously sudden growth of beard, there were indications about the Clockwork man that pointed55 to still further abnormalities. The Doctor braced56 himself up to face the worst; he had no theory at all with which to explain these staggering manifestations57, and it seemed more than likely that the ghastly serio-comic figure seated on the couch would presently offer some explanation of his own.
A few moments later Mrs. Masters entered the room bearing a tray with the promised meal. True to her instinct, the good soul must have searched the remotest corners of her pantry in order to provide what she evidently regarded as but an apology of a repast. Little did she know for what Brobdingnagian appetite she was catering58! At the sight of the six gleaming white eggs in their cups, the guest made a movement expressive59 of the direction of his desire, if not of very sanguine60 hope of their fulfilment. Besides eggs, there were several piles of sandwiches, bread and butter, and assorted61 cakes.
Mrs. Masters had scarcely murmured her apologies for the best she could do at such short notice, and retired62, than the Clockwork[Pg 141] man set to with an avidity that appalled63 and disgusted the Doctor. The six eggs were cracked and swallowed in as many seconds. The rest of the food disappeared in a series of jerks, accompanied by intense vibration64 of the jaws65; the whole process of swallowing resembling the pulsations of the cylinders66 of a petrol engine. So rapid were the vibrations67, that the whole of the lower part of the Clockwork man's face was only visible as a multiplicity of blurred68 outlines.
The commotion69 subsided70 as abruptly as it had begun, and the Doctor enquired, with as much grace as his outraged71 instincts would allow, whether he could offer him any more.
"I have still," said the Clockwork man, locating his feeling by placing a hand sharply against his stomach, "an emptiness here."
"Dear me," muttered the Doctor, "you find us rather short at present. I must think of something." He went on talking, as though to gain time. "It's quite obvious, of course, that you need more than an average person. I ought to have realised. There would be exaggerated metabolism—naturally, to sustain exaggerated function. But, of course, the—er—motive force behind this extraordinary efficiency of yours is still a mystery to me. Am I right in assuming that there is a sort of mechanism?"
[Pg 142]
"It makes everything go faster," observed the Clockwork man, "and more accurately."
"Quite," murmured the Doctor. He was leaning forward now, with his elbows resting on the table and his head on one side. "I can see that. There are certain things about you that strike one as being obvious. But what beats me at present is how—and where—" he looked, figuratively speaking, at the inside of the Clockwork man, "I mean, in what part of your anatomy72 the—er—motive force is situated73."
"The functioning principle," said the Clockwork man, "is distributed throughout, but the clock—" His words ran on incoherently for a few moments and ended in an abrupt40 explosion that nearly lifted him out of his seat. "Beg pardon—what I mean to say is that the clock—wallabaloo—wum—wum—"
"I am prepared to take that for granted," put in the Doctor, coughing slightly.
"You must understand," resumed the Clockwork man, making a rather painful effort to fold his arms and look natural, "you must understand—click—click—that it is difficult for me to carry on conversation in this manner. Not only are my speech centres rather disordered—G-r-r-r-r-r-r—but I am not really accustomed to expressing my thoughts[Pg 143] in this way (here there was a loud spinning noise, like a sewing machine, and rising to a rapid crescendo). My brain is—so—constituted that action—except in a multiform world—is bound to be somewhat spasmodic—Pfft—Pfft—Pfft. In fact—Pfft—it is only—Pfft—because I am in such a hope—hope—hopeless condition that I am able to converse75 with you at all."
"I see," said Allingham, slowly, "it is because you are, so to speak, temporarily incapacitated, that you are able to come down to the level of our world."
"It's an extra—ordinary world," exclaimed the other, with a sudden vehemence76 that seemed to bring about a spasm74 of coherency. "I can't get used to it. Everything is so elementary and restricted. I wouldn't have thought it possible that even in the twentieth century things would have been so backward. I always thought that this age was supposed to be the beginning. History says the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were full of stir and enquiry. The mind of man was awakening77. But it is strange how little has been done. I see no signs of the great movement. Why, you have not yet grasped the importance of the machines."
"We have automobiles78 and flying machines," interrupted Allingham, weakly.
[Pg 144]
"And you treat them like slaves," retorted the Clockwork man. "That fact was revealed to me by your callous79 behaviour towards your motor car. It was not until man began to respect the machines that his real history begun. What ideas have you about the relation of man to the outer cosmos80?"
"We have a theory of relativity," Allingham ventured.
"Einstein!" The Clockwork man's features altered just perceptibly to an expression of faint surprise. "Is he already born?"
"He is beginning to be understood. And some attempt is being made to popularise his theory. But I don't know that I altogether agree."
The Doctor hesitated, aware of the uselessness of dissension upon such a subject where his companion was concerned. Another idea came into his head. "What sort of a world is yours? To look at, I mean. How does it appear to the eye and touch?"
"It is a multiform world," replied the Clockwork man (he had managed to fold his arms now, and apart from a certain stiffness his attitude was fairly normal). "Now, your world has a certain definite shape. That is what puzzles me so. There is one of everything. One sky, and one floor. Everything is fixed81 and stable. At least, so it appears to[Pg 145] me. And then you have objects placed about in certain positions, trees, houses, lamp-posts—and they never alter their positions. It reminds me of the scenery they used in the old theatres. Now, in my world everything is constantly moving, and there is not one of everything, but always there are a great many of each thing. The universe has no definite shape at all. The sky does not look, like yours does, simply a sort of inverted82 bowl. It is a shapeless void. But what strikes me so forcibly about your world is that everything appears to be leading somewhere, and you expect always to come to the end of things. But in my world everything goes on for ever."
"But the streets and houses?" hazarded Allingham, "aren't they like ours?"
The Clockwork man shook his head. "We have houses, but they are not full of things like yours are, and we don't live in them. They are simply places where we go when we take ourselves to pieces or overhaul83 ourselves. They are—" his mouth opened very wide, "the nearest approach to fixed objects that we have, and we regard them as jumping-off places for successive excursions into various dimensions. Streets are of course unnecessary, since the only object of a street is to lead from one place to another, and we do that sort of thing in other ways. Again, our houses are[Pg 146] not placed together in the absurd fashion of yours. They are anywhere and everywhere, and nowhere and nowhen. For instance, I live in the day before yesterday and my friend in the day after to-morrow."
"I begin to grasp what you mean," said Allingham, digging his chin into his hands, "as an idea, that is. It seems to me that, to borrow the words of Shakespeare, I have long dreamed of such a kind of man as you. But now that you are before me, in the—er—flesh, I find myself unable to accept you."
The unfortunate Doctor was trying hard to substitute a genuine interest in the Clockwork man for a feeling of panic, but he was not very successful. "You seem to me," he added, rather lamely84, "so very theoretical."
And then he remembered the sudden growth of beard, and decided85 that it was useless to pursue that last thin thread of suspicion in his mind. For several seconds he said nothing at all, and the Clockwork man seemed to take advantage of the pause in order to wind himself up to a new pitch of coherency.
"It would be ridiculous," he began, after several thoracic bifurcations, "for me to explain myself more fully18 to you. Unless you had a clock you couldn't possibly understand. But I hope I have made it clear that my world is a multiform world. It has a thousand[Pg 147] manifestations as compared to one of yours. It is a world of many dimensions, and every dimension is crowded with people and things. Only they don't get in each other's way, like you do, because there are always other dimensions at hand."
"That I can follow," said the Doctor, wrinkling his brows, "that seems to me fairly clear. I can just grasp that, as the hypothesis of another sort of world. But what I don't understand, what I can't begin to understand, is how you work, how this mechanism which you talk about functions."
He delivered this last sentence rather in the manner of an ultimatum86, and the Clockwork man seemed to brood over it for a few seconds. He was apparently puzzled by the question, and hard mechanical lines appeared upon his forehead and began slowly chasing one another out of existence. It reminded the Doctor of Venetian blinds being pulled up and down very rapidly.
"Well," the reply was shot out at last, "how do you work?" The repartee87 of the Clockwork man was none the less effective for being suspended, as it were, for a second or two before delivery.
The doctor gasped88 slightly and released his hold upon a mustard pot. He came up to the rebound89 with a new suggestion.
[Pg 148]
"Now, that's a good idea. We might arrive at something by comparison. I never thought of that." He grasped the mustard pot again and tried to arrange certain matters in his mind. "It's a little difficult to know where to begin," he temporised.
"Begin at the end, if you like," suggested the Clockwork man, affably. "It's all the same to me. First and last, upside or inside, front or back—it all conveys the same idea to me."
"We are creatures of action," hazarded the Doctor, with the air of a man embarking90 upon a long mental voyage, "we act from certain motives91. There is a principle known as Cause and Effect. Everything is related. Every action has its equal and opposite re-action. Nobody can do anything, or even think anything, without producing some change, however slight, in the general flow of things. Every movement that we make, almost every thought that passes through our minds, starts another ripple92 upon the surface of time, upon this endless stream of cause and effect."
"Ah," interrupted the Clockwork man, placing a finger to the side of his nose, "I begin to understand. You work upon a different principle, or rather an antiquated93 principle. You see, all that has been solved[Pg 149] now. The clock works all that out in advance. It calculates ahead of our conscious selves. No doubt we still go through the same processes, sub-consciously, all such processes that relate to Cause and Effect. But we, that is, ourselves, are the resultant of such calculations, and the only actions we are conscious of are those which are expressed as consequents."
Allingham passed a hand across his forehead. "It all seems so feasible," he remarked, "once you grasp the mechanism. But what I don't understand—"
Here, however, the discussion came to an abrupt conclusion, for something was happening to the Clockwork man.
点击
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1
confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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4
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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5
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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6
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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7
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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8
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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9
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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luridly
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| adv. 青灰色的(苍白的, 深浓色的, 火焰等火红的) | |
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incurring
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| 遭受，招致，引起( incur的现在分词 ) | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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13
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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14
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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15
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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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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animating
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| v.使有生气( animate的现在分词 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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20
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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obtruded
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| v.强行向前，强行，强迫( obtrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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interrogator
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| n.讯问者；审问者；质问者；询问器 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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omnivorous
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| adj.杂食的 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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40
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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41
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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42
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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43
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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44
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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45
hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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concurrent
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| adj.同时发生的，一致的 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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unfamiliarity
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hirsute
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| adj.多毛的 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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catering
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| n. 给养 | |
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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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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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cylinders
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| n.圆筒( cylinder的名词复数 )；圆柱；汽缸；（尤指用作容器的）圆筒状物 | |
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vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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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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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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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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cosmos
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| n.宇宙；秩序，和谐 | |
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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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inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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overhaul
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| v./n.大修，仔细检查 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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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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ultimatum
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| n.最后通牒 | |
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repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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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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rebound
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| v.弹回；n.弹回，跳回 | |
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embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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