Last night it rained hard for an hour, she was kept awake by its drumnning on the air?conditioner, and they say showers this evening again, though the sun is making a kind of tawny22 fog slanting23 across the yard through the neighbor's tall trees to where Harry has his little vegetable garden in imitation of the one his parents had in the back yard on Jackson Road, all he grows is lettuce25 and carrots and kohlrabi, he does love to nibble26. She sees with her coffee that Bryant and Willard are getting along better on the Today show after that unfortunate thing with Bryant's private memo27 being exposed in all the papers, really nothing's private any more, the scandalmongers never rest, always hoping for another Watergate, her father's death was brought on by Watergate she has always felt. The news is mostly about China and Gorbachev, you can never trust Communists not to gang up on you, and Panama where that evil pockmarked Noriega just won't leave, and how Pennsylvania voters yesterday turned down the tax reform that Governor Casey wanted; people thought it would mean a tax increase and if there's anything you can count on Americans to be these last ten years it's selfish.
She tries to pick an outfit30 suitable for seeing your son off to a drug clinic and then babysitting for Roy all morning while Pru drives Nelson into North Philadelphia, which she's very nervous about, who wouldn't be, they do terrible things now, deliberately31 rear?end you and then drive off with your car when you get out, there is no such thing any more as a good Philadelphia neighborhood, and for a striking?looking younger woman like Pru is it's worse. Pru hopes to be back by noon so Janice can go pick Harry up at the hospital, by twelve?thirty at the latest the nurse on duty warned, they don't like to give them lunch that last day and the girls coming round to make the beds don't like having somebody in one of them dirtying the sheets and then leaving. It makes her stomach nervous to think of Harry and his heart, men are so fragile it turns out, though that nice young intelligent Dr. Breit seemed delighted with what the balloon did, but Harry's image of himself has changed, he speaks of himself almost as if he's somebody he knew a long time ago, and he seems more of a baby than he ever did, letting her make all the decisions. She doesn't see how she can leave him alone in their house his first night out of the hospital, but she can't miss the quiz either, it really makes more sense with all this coming and going and the children upset about their father's going off to the rehab to shift her base of operations to Mother's house and to wear the smart light wool outfit she bought two years ago at the Wanamaker's out at the mall on the old fairgrounds (didn't they use to get excited in school, getting the day off and all the rides, the one where four of you were in a kind of cylinder33 and the boy opposite would be above you and then below and the sky every which way and your skirt doing heaven knows what, the smells of sawdust and cotton candy, and the freaks and animals and prizes for tossing little hoops34 at pegs35 that were bigger than they looked), a navy?blue?and?white outfit with a kicky blue pleated skirt and off?white satin jersey36 and blue buttonlessjacket with wide shoulders that always come back from the cleaner's with the padding askew38 or bent39 or tom loose, it's a terrible fashion as far as dry cleaning goes. The first time she posed for Harry in that suit he said it made her look like a little policeman ? the shoulders and the piping on the pockets, she supposed, gave it the look of a uniform but it would do all day, she thinks, from having not to break down in saying goodbye to Nelson to taking this quiz with all the strange old terms in it, curtilage and messuage and socage and fee simple and fee tail and feoffee and copyhold and customary freehold and mortmain and devises and lex loci rei sitae. The little old elementary?school desks have been uprooted40 and taken away in favor of one?armed chairs of combination aluminum41 tubing and orange plastic, but the old blackboards are still there, gray with chalk dust rubbed in over the years, and the high windows you have to have a pole to raise and lower, and those high floating lights like flattened42 moons, like big hollow flowers upside down on their thin stems. Janice loves being back in class again, trying to follow the teacher and learn new things but also aware of the other students, their breathing and their feet scraping and the silent effort of their minds. The class is women three out of four and most younger than she but not all, to her relief she is not the oldest person in the class and not the dumbest either. The years with their heartbreak and working off and on over at the lot have taught her some things; she wishes her parents were alive to see her, sitting with these twenty?five others studying to get their licenses44, the city sounds and Hispanic music and customized Hispanic cars revving45 their engines on Pine Street beyond the tall windows, sitting there with her notebooks and pencils and yellow highlighter (they didn't have those when she went to high school); but of course if they were alive she wouldn't be doing this, she wouldn't have the mental space. They were wonderful parents but had never trusted her to manage by herself, and her marrying Harry confirmed them in their distrust. She made bad decisions.
The teacher, Mr. Lister, is a doleful tall rumpled48 man with jowls that make him look like a dog. He gave her a B on the last quiz and likes her, she can tell. The other students, even the younger ones, like her too, and lend her cigarettes in the bathroom break at eightthirty and invite her to come out with them for a beer afterward49 at ten. She hasn't accepted yet but she might some night when things are more normal with Harry, just to show she's not stuck?up. At least she hasn't let herself go to fat like some of the women her age in the class ? shocking, really, to see flesh piled up like that, and not doing anything to reduce, just carrying these hundreds of pounds back and forth50 and scarcely able to squeeze them into the desks. You wonder how long people can live like that. One of the few natural blessings51 God handed Janice was a tidy figure and that she has tried to keep, for Harry's sake as well as her own. He does seem prouder of her, the older they get. He looks at her sometimes as if she's just dropped down out of the moon.
Even with hurrying this morning, she gets caught in the slow traffic through the thick of the Brewer rush hour. All these cars, where are they going? By the side of the highway as it heads around the side of the mountain you can see erosion from last night's heavy rain ? big twisted ditches of red clay washed away, weeds and all. At Joseph Street she parks and goes up the walk scared of what chaos52 she'll find, but Nelson is dressed in one of those putty?colored suits he has and Pru in brown slacks and a khaki?colored mannish shirt under a red cardigan sweater with the arms loosely knotted around her shoulders, an outfit to drive in. Both she and Nelson look pale and drawn53; you can almost see the agitated54 psychic55 energy around their heads, like one of those manifestations56 Harry scoffs57 at on Unsolved Mysteries.
In the kitchen, showing Janice the special peanut?butter?and honey sandwich she has made just the way Roy likes it (otherwise he throws everything on the floor, even the TastyKake for dessert), Pru perhaps thinks the older woman notices something wrong in her manner and explains in a hurried low voice, "Nelson had some coke hidden around the house and thought we should use it up before he goes. It was too much even for him, so I did a few lines. I honestly don't know what he sees in it ? it burned and I sneezed and then couldn't fall asleep but otherwise felt nothing. Nothing. I said to him, `If this is all it is I don't see any problem in giving it up,' I'd have a harder time giving up Hershey bars."
But just the fact that she is talking so much, confessing so freely, stroking the lank58 red hair back from her forehead with a caressing60 gesture of both hands, with trembling fingertips, indicates to Janice that there has been a chemical event. Her son is poisonous. Everything he touches. With all her maternal61 effort she's brought destruction into the world.
Nelson has stayed in the front room, sitting on the Barcalounger with Roy in his arms, murmuring to the boy and gently blowing to tickle63 his ear. He looks up at his mother with resentment64 written all over his face. He says to her, "You know why I'm doing this, don't you?"
"To save your own life," Janice tells him, lifting the child out of his lap. Roy is growing heavier by the day and she puts him down on his own legs. "Time you start making him walk," she explains to Nelson.
"Just like you're making me go to this stupid useless place," Nelson says. "I want that perfectly65 clear. I'm going because you're making me and not because I admit I have any problem."
A weight of weariness floods her, as if she is at the end and not the beginning of her day. "From what it seems you've done with the money, we all have a problem."
The boy scarcely flinches66, but does for an instant lower his eyelids67, with their beautiful lashes68, a little long for a boy's. She has always found those lashes heartbreaking. "It's just debt," he says. "If Lyle weren't so sick now he'd have explained it to you better. We were just borrowing against future income. It would have all worked out."
Janice thinks of the quiz she must face tonight and of poor Harry with that metal worm they put into his heart and she tells her son, "Darling, you've been stealing, and not just pennies from the change jar. You're an addict69. You've been out of your head. You've not been yourself for I don't know how long and that's all any of us want, for you to be yourself again."
His lips, thin like her own, tighten70 so as to disappear under his mustache, that seems to be growing out, getting droopier. "I'm a recreational user just like you're a social drinker. We need it. We losers need a lift."
"I'm not a loser, Nelson, and I hope you're not." She feels a tightness growing in her but she tries to keep her voice low and level like Charlie would. "We had this same conversation in Florida and you made promises then you didn't keep. Your problem is too much for me, it's too much for your wife, it's too much for your father ? much too much for him."
"Dad doesn't give a damn."
"He does. Don't interrupt. And your problem is too much for you. You need to go to this place where they've developed a method, where they're experienced. Your counsellor wants you to go."
"Ike says it's all a con21. He says everything's a con."
"That's just his black way of talking. He got you in, he wants you to go."
"Suppose I can't stand it?" She and Harry never sent him off to summer camp, for fear he couldn't stand it.
"You must stand it, or -"
"Yeah, or what, Mom?"
"Or else."
He tries to mock her: "Oh sure. What are you and Charlie and old Harry going to do to me, put me in jail?" It is a real question; in nervousness he loudly sniffs71, and then rubs his pink nostrils72.
She tries to give him a real answer, saying in the level soft voice, "We wouldn't be the ones doing it. The Toyota Company and the police would be doing it, if they were called in."
He sniffs again, in disbelief. "Why would you call them in? I'll put the money back. I was always going to put it back. You care more about the dumb lot than you care about me."
His tone is trying for a bantering73 lightness, but her own mood has hardened; outrage74 has seized her, and self?righteousness. "You stole from me, never mind that. But you stole from your grandfather. You stole from what he had built."
Nelson's guarded eyes widen; his pallor seems a prisoner's in the murky75 parlor76 light. "Granpop always wanted me to run the lot. And what about my kids? What about Judy and Roy if you carry through on all these threats?" Roy has whimpered and collapsed77 to the floor, and is leaning against her ankles, hoping to distract her, hating the sounds of this conversation.
"You should have been thinking of them before now," Janice says stonily78. "You've been stealing from them, too." She takes a weary pride in her stoniness79; her head is numb80 but clear, with the product of her own womb pleading and wriggling82 beneath her. This numbness83 she feels must be the power her women's group in Florida talks about, the power men have always had.
Nelson tries outrage of his own. "Ah, fuck, Mom. Don't give me all this, all this `How could you do this to your mother and father?' What about what you did to me, all that mess around when Becky died so I never had a sister, and then that time you ran away with your oily Greek and crazy Dad brought Jill and then Skeeter into the house and they tried to make me take dope when I was just a little kid?"
Janice realizes that with all her stoniness and inner hardness she has been crying, her throat feels raw and tears have been flowing stupidly down her face. She wipes at them with the back of her hand and asks shakily, "How much dope did they make you do?"
He squirms, retreats a bit. "I don't know," he says. "They let me take a puff84 of pot now and then. But they were doing worse stuff and didn't try to hide it from me."
She works with a balled?up Kleenex at drying her face and eyes, thinking what a messy start she is having to this day, in a costume that was supposed to see her through the roles of mother, grandmother, ministering wife, eager student, and prospective85 working girl. "Your childhood I guess wasn't ideal," she admits, stabbing under her eyes, feeling distracted, ready for her next role, "but then whose is? You shouldn't sit in judgment86 of your parents. We did the best we could while being people too."
He protests, "Being people too!"
She tells him: "You know, Nelson, when you're little you think your parents are God but now you're old enough to face the fact that they're not. Your father isn't well and I'm trying to make something of what little life I have left and we just can't focus on you and your misbehavior as much as you think we should. You're of an age now to take responsibility for your own life. It's plain to everybody who knows you that your only chance is to stick with this program in Philadelphia. We're all going to try to hold the fort here for three months but when you come back in August you'll be on your own. You won't get any favors at least from me."
He sneers87. "I thought mothers were supposed to love their kids no matter what." As if to challenge her physically88 he pushes up out of his grandfather's Barcalounger and stands close. He is three inches taller than she.
She feels the rawness in her throat and the heat in her eyes beginning again. "If I didn't love you," she says, "I'd let you go on destroying yourself." Her store of words is exhausted89; she launches herself toward the white sneering90 face and embraces the boy, who grudgingly91, after a resistant92 wriggle93, responds and hugs her back, patting her shoulder blade with what Harry's mother used to call "those little Springer hands." Now, there, Janice thinks, was a hateful mother, who never said No to her son in all her life.
Nelson is saying in her ear that he'll be fine, everything will be fine, he just got a little overextended.
Pru comes downstairs carrying two big suitcases. "I don't know how often they wear suits," she says, "but I thought they must have a lot of physical therapy so I packed all the shorts and athletic94 socks I could find. And blue jeans, for when they make you scrub the floors."
"Bye bye Daddy," Roy is saying down among their legs. Since Pru has her hands full, Janice hoists95 him up, heavy and leggy though he is getting to be, for his father's farewell kiss. The child hangs on to Nelson's ear in parting and she wonders where Roy got this idea of inflicting96 pain to show affection.
When his parents have gone off in the burgundy?red Celica Supra that Nelson drives, Roy leads his grandmother into the back yard where Harry's old vegetable garden with the little chickenwire fence he could step over has been replaced with a swing?and slide set bought five years ago for Judy and pretty well gone to rust28 and disuse. Already, though the summer is young, tall weeds flourish around the metal feet of it. Janice thinks she recognizes the ferny tops of carrots and kohlrabi among the plantain and dandelions, the dandelions' yellow flowers now seedy white pompons that fly apart at the swat of the broken hockey stick whose tapedup handle little Roy swings like a samurai sword. The Springers moved to this house when Janice was eight and from the back yard the big house looks naked to her without the copper97 beech98. The sky is full of puffy scudding99 clouds with those purely100?dark centers that can bring rain. The weatherman this morning had called for more, though not as violent as last night's showers. She takes Roy for a little walk over the sidewalk squares of Joseph Street, some of them replaced but here and there a crack she remembers still unmended and two slabs101 still tilted102 up by a sycamore root in a way that made a treacherous103 bump for a girl on roller skates. She tells Roy some of this, and the names of families that used to live in the houses of the neighborhood, but he gets cranky and tired within the block; children now don't seem to have the physical energy, the eagerness to explore, that she remembers, girls as well as boys, her knees always skinned and dirty, her mother always complaining about the state of her clothes. Roy's interest during their walk flickers104 up only when they come to a string of little soft anthills like coffee grounds between two sidewalk cracks. He kicks them open and then stamps the scurrying105 armies suddenly pouring out to defend the queen. Such slaughter106 wearies him, the ants keep coming, and she finally has to pick the lummox up and carry him back to the house, his sneakers drumming sluggishly108 against her belly109 and pleated skirt.
One of the cable channels has cartoons all morning. Gangs of outlined superheroes, who move one body part at a time and talk with just their lower lips, do battle in space with cackling villains110 from other galaxies111. Roy falls asleep watching, one of Pru's oatbran low?sugar cookies broken in two wet crumbling112 halves in his hands. This house where Janice lived so long ? the potted violets, the knickknacks, the cracked brown Barcalounger Daddy loved to relax on, to wait with closed eyes for one of his headaches to subside113, the dining?room table Mother used to complain was being ruined by the lazy cleaning women who like to spray on Pledge every time and ruin the finish with gummy wax build?up deepens her guilt in regard to Nelson. His pale frightened face seems still to glow in the dark living room: she pulls up the shade, surprising the sleepy wasps114 crawling on the sill like arthritic115 old men. Across the street, at what used to be the Schmehlings' house, a pink dogwood has grown higher than the porch roof its shape in bloom drifts sideways like those old photos of atomic bomb?test clouds in the days when we were still scared of the Russians. To think that she could be so cruel to Nelson just because of money. The memory of her hardness with him makes her shake, chilling the something soft still left in the center of her bones, giving her a little physical convulsion of self?disgust such as after you vomit116.
Yet no one will share these feelings with her. Not Harry, not Pru. Pru comes back not at noon but after one o'clock. She says traffic was worse than anyone would imagine, miles of the Turnpike reduced to one lane, North Philadelphia enormous, block after block of row houses. And then the rehab place took its own sweet time about signing Nelson in; when she complained, they let her know that they turned down three for every one they admitted. Pru seems a semi?stranger, taller in stature117 and fiercer in expression than Janice remembered as a mother?in?law. The link between them has been removed.
"How did he seem?" Janice asks her.
"Angry but sane118. Full of practical instructions about the lot he wanted me to pass on to his father. He made me write them all down. It's as if he doesn't realize he's not running the show any more."
"I feel so terrible about it all I couldn't eat any lunch. Roy fell asleep in the TV chair and I didn't know if I should wake him or not."
Pru pokes120 back her hair wearily. "Nelson kept the kids up too late last night, running around kissing them, wanting them to play card games. He gets manicky on the stuff, so he can't let anybody alone. Roy has his play group at one, I better quick take him."
"I'm sorry, I knew he had the play group but didn't know where it was or if Wednesday was one of the days."
"I should have told you, but who would have thought driving to Philadelphia and back would be such a big deal? In Ohio you just zip up to Cleveland and back without any trouble." She doesn't directly blame Janice for missing Roy's play group, but her triangular121 brow expresses irritation122 nevertheless.
Janice still seeks absolution from this younger woman, asking, "Do you think I should feel so terrible?"
Pru, whose eyes have been shuttling from detail to detail of what is, after all, as far as use and occupancy go, her house, now for a moment focuses on Janice a look of full cold clarity. "Of course not," she says. "This is the only chance Nelson has. And you're the only one who could make him do it. Thank God you did. You're doing exactly the right thing."
Yet the words are so harshly stated Janice finds herself unreassured. She licks the center of her upper lip, which feels dry. There is a little crack in the center of it that never quite heals. "But I feel so ? what's the word? ?mercenary. As if I care more about the company than my son."
Pru shrugs123. "It's the way things are structured. You have the clout124. Me, Harry, the kids ? Nelson just laughs at us. To him we're negligible. He's sick, Janice. He's not your son, he's a monster con artist who used to be your son."
And this seems so harsh that Janice starts to cry; but her daughter?in?law, instead of offering to lend comfort, turns and sets about, with her air of irritated efficiency, waking up Roy and putting him in clean corduroy pants for play school.
"I'm late too. We'll be back," Janice says, feeling dismissed. She and Pru have previously125 agreed that, rather than risk leaving Harry alone in the Penn Park house while she does her three hours at the Penn State extension, she will bring him back here for his first night out of the hospital. As she drives into Brewer she looks forward to seeing him on his feet again, and to sharing with him her guilt over Nelson.
But he disappoints her just as Pru did. His five nights in St. Joseph's have left him self?obsessed126 and lackadaisical127. He seems brittle and puffy, suddenly; his hair, still a dull blond color, has been combed by him in the same comb?ridged pompadour he used to wear coming out of the locker128 room in high school. His hair has very little gray, but his temples are higher and the skin there, in the hollow at the corner of the eyebrows129, has a crinkly dryness. He is like a balloon the air just slowly goes out of over days it wrinkles and sinks to the floor. His russet slacks and blue cotton sports coat look loose on him; the hospital diet has squeezed pounds of water out of his system. Drained of spirit as well, he seems halting and blinky the way her father became in his last five years, closing his eyes in the Barcalounger, waiting for the headache to pass. It feels wrong: in their marriage in the past Harry's vitality130 always towered over hers ? his impulsive131 needs, his sense of being generally cherished, his casual ability to hurt her, his unspoken threat to leave at any moment. It feels wrong that she is picking him up in her car, when he is dressed and wet?combed like the boy that comes for you on a date. He was sitting meekly133 in the chair by his bed, with his old gym bag, holding medicine and dirty underwear, between his feet in their big suede134 Hush135 Puppies. She took his arm and with cautious steps he moved to the elevator, as the nurses called goodbye. One plump younger one seemed especially sad to see him go, and the Hispanic culinary aide said to Janice with flashing eyes, "Make him eat right!"
She expects Harry to be more grateful; but a man even slightly sick assumes that women will uphold him, and in this direction, men to women, the flow of gratitude136 is never great. In the car, his first words are insulting: "You have on your policeman's uniform."
"I need to feel presentable for my quiz tonight. I'm afraid I won't be able to concentrate. I can't stop thinking about Nelson."
He has slumped137 down in the passenger seat, his knees pressed against the dashboard, his head laid back against the headrest in a conceited138 way. "What's to think?" he asks. "Did he wriggle out of going? I thought he'd run."
"He didn't run at all, that was one of the things that made it so sad. He went off just the way he used to go to school. Harry, I wonder if we're doing the right thing."
Harry's eyes are closed, as if against the battering139 of sights to see through the car windows ? Brewer, its painted brick buildings, its heavy sandstone churches, its mighty140 courthouse, its new little green?glass skyscraper141, and the overgrown park where Weiser Square had once been and which is now the home of drug addicts142 and the homeless who live in cardboard boxes and keep their clothes in stolen shopping carts. "What else can we do?" he asks indolently. "What does Pru think?"
"Oh, she's for it. It gets him off her hands. I'm sure he's been a handful lately. You can see in her mind she's single already, all independent and brisk and a little rude to me, I thought."
"Don't get touchy143. What does Charlie think? How was your Vietnamese dinner last night?"
"I'm not sure I understand Vietnamese food, but it was nice. Short but sweet. I even got home in time to catch the end of thirtysomething. It was the season finale ? Gary tried to protect Susannah from a magazine exposé being written by Hope, who found out that Susannah was stealing from the social?service center." All this in case he thinks she slept with Charlie, to show there wasn't time. Poor Harry, he doesn't believe you can grow beyond that.
He groans144, still keeping his eyes shut. "Sounds awful. Sounds like life."
"Charlie's real proud of me," she says, "for standing145 up to Nelson. We had a grim little talk this morning, Nelson and me, where he said I loved the company more than him. I wonder if he isn't right, if we haven't become very materialistic146 since you first knew me. He seemed so little, Harry, so hurt and defiant147, just the way he was the time I went off to live with Charlie. Abandoning a twelve?year?old like that, I'm the one should have been put in jail, what was I thinking of? It's true what he says, who am I to lecture him, to send him off to this dreary148 place? I was just about the age he is now when I did it, too. So young, really." She is crying again; she wonders ifyou can become addicted149 to tears like everything else. All the darkness and fumbling150 and unthinkable shames ofher life feel regurgitated in this unstoppable salty outpour. She can hardly see to drive, and laughs at her own snufing.
Harry's head rolls loosely on the headrest, as if he is basking151 in an invisible sun. The clouds are crowding out the hazy152 sky, their dark hearts merging153 into an overcast154. "You were trying something out," Harry tells her. "You were trying to live while you were still alive."
"But I had no right, you had no right either, to do the things we did!"
"For Chrissake, don't bawl155. It was the times," he says. "The Sixties. The whole country was flipping156 out back then. We weren't so bad. We got back together."
"Yes, and sometimes I wonder if that wasn't just more selfindulgence. We haven't made each other happy, Harry."
She wants to face this with him but he smiles as if in his sleep. "You've made me happy," he says. "I'm sorry to hear it didn't work both ways."
"Don't," she says. "Don't just score points. I'm trying to be serious. You know I've always loved you, or wanted to, if you'd let me. Ever since high school, at least ever since Kroll's. That's one of the things Charlie was telling me last night, how crazy about you I've always been." Her face heats; his failure to respond embarrasses her; she hurries on, turning left on Eisenhower. A gap in the clouds makes the hood32 of the Carnry glare; then it is dipped deeper into cloud shadow. "It really was a pretty restaurant," she says, "the way they've fixed157 it up and everything, these little Vietnamese women so petite they made me feel like a horse. But they spoke132 perfect English, with Pennsylvania accents ? second generation, can it be? Has it been that long since the war? We should go there sometime."
"I wouldn't dream of intruding158. It's your and Charlie's place." He opens his eyes and sits up. "Hey. Where're we going? This is the way to Mt. judge."
She says, "Harry, now don't get mad. You know I have to go to class and take the quiz tonight, and I'd feel too funny leaving you alone for three hours just out of the hospital, so Pru and I worked it out that you and I would sleep in Mother's old bed, which they moved across the hall into the old sewing room when Mother's room became Judy's room. This way you'll have babysitters while I'm off."
"Why can't I go to my own fucking house? I was looking forward to it. I lived in that damn barn of your mother's for ten years and that was enough."
"Just for one night, honey. Please ? otherwise I'll be sick with worry and flunk159 my quiz. There are all those Latin and funny old English words you're expected to know."
"My heart's fine. Better than ever. It's like a sink trap after all the hair and old toothpaste has been cleaned out. I saw the bastards160 do it. Nothing will happen ifyou leave me alone, I promise."
"That nice Dr. Breit told me before they did it there was a chance of a coronary occlusion."
"That was while they were doing it, with the catheter in. The catheter's out now. It's been out nearly a week. Come on, honey. Take me home."
"Just one night, Harry, please. It's a kindness to everybody. Pru and I thought it would distract the children from their father's not being there."
He sinks back into his seat, giving up. "What about my pajamas162? What about my toothbrush?"
"They're there. I brought them over this morning. I tell you, this day. I've really had to plan. Now, after we've got you settled, I must study, absolutely."
"I don't want to be in the same house with Roy," he says, sulking humorously, resigned to what after all is a tiny adventure, a night back in Mt. Judge. "He'll hurt me. Down in Florida he yanked the oxygen tube right out of my nose."
Janice remembers Roy stamping on all those ants but nevertheless says, "I spent the whole morning with him and he couldn't have been sweeter."
Pru and Roy are not there. Janice leads Rabbit upstairs and suggests he lie down. Ma's old bed has been freshly made up; his offwhite pajamas are folded nicely on his pillow. He sees in the murky far comer next to an old wooden?cased Singer sewing machine the dressmaker's dummy163, dust?colored, eternally headless and erect164. Ma's big bed crowds the room so there are just a few inches of space on one side next to the window and on the other beside the wall with its wainscoting. The sewing room has a wainscoting of vamished beaded boards, set upright and trimmed at chest?level with a strip of molding. The door of a shallow closet in the corner is made of the same boards. When he opens it, the door bumps annoyingly on the bedpost of Ma's old bed, a bedpost turned with a flattened knob at the top like a hard, brownpainted mushroom, and the paint on it has crackled into small rectangles, like a puddle165 that has dried. He opens the door to hang up his blue coat, among cobwebby crammed166 old irons and toasters, coverlets folded and preserved in yellowing cellophane moth16 bags, and a rack of Fred Springer's dead neckties. Harry folds back his shirtsleeves and begins to feel like himself, the idea of spending a day back in Mt. Judge is beginning to amuse him. "Maybe I'll take a little walk."
"Should you?" Janice asks.
"Absolutely. It's the best thing for you, that's what everybody at the hospital says. They had me walking the halls."
"I thought you might want to lie down."
"Later, maybe. You go study. Go on, this quiz ofyours is making me nervous."
He leaves her at the dining?room table with her book and her photocopies167 and heads up Joseph Street to Potter Avenue, where the ice?plant water used to run down in the gutter168. The gutter has been long dry but the cement was permanently170 tinged171 green. Rabbit walks away from the center of the borough172 with its dry cleaners and Turkey Hill Minit Market and Pizza Hut and Sunoco and discount stereo and new video store that used to be a shoe store and aerobics173 class above what had been a bakery when he was a boy. The smell of warm dough174 and icing out of its doors would make him drool. He walks uphill to where Potter Avenue meets Wilbur Street; here a green mailbox used to lean on a concrete post and now the bigger boxy kind with the rounded top stands instead, painted blue. A fire hydrant painted red, white, and blue for the Bicentennial in the Seventies has been given a fresh and garish175 coat of the orange you see on life jackets and joggers' vests and hunters' outfits176, as if a fog creeping into our way of life is making everything harder to see. He walks up Wilbur, feeling the steep slope tug177 at his heart. The street in its lower blocks holds pretentious178 large houses like the Springers', stucco and brick and slate179, fortresslike, with gables and acres of roof, some of them now split up into condos reached by wooden outside stairs that look tacky. Beyond the alley180 where long ago there used to be a telephone pole with a backboard bolted to it, Rabbit's chest has that full feeling, his ribs181 like bands of pressure, and he pops a Nitrostat under his tongue and waits for the relief and the tingle182, while cool cloud shadows slide rapidly across the forested edge of the mountain above him. He had hoped he would need to take fewer pills but maybe it takes time for the operation to sink in.
He continues hiking, alone on the sloping sidewalk, up into the block where he and Janice lived when they were first married. Built all at once in the Thirties, a row of frame semi?detached climbs the hill like a staircase. Like the fire hydrant, they have become brighter, painted in fanciful storybook colors, pale purple and canary yellow, aqua and orange, colors that no respectable Pennsylvania householder would have applied183 when Harry was young. Life was not only bigger but more solemn then. Colors were bruise184 and dung, in gritty sidings that rubbed off on your fingers and were tar4 underneath185.
His own house, the seventh in the row, number 447, had tired wooden steps that have been replaced with concrete inset with irregular multicolored pieces of broken tile and covered with a central runner of green outdoor carpeting; the house door into the vestibule has been painted a high?gloss186 ochre on its panels and maroon187 on its stiles, so a bold double cross is figured forth, ornamented188 by a brass189 knocker in the shape of a fox's head. Camaros and BMWs are parked out front; glass curtains and splashy abstract prints dress the windows. This row, a kind of slum when Harry and Janice and two?year?old Nelson lived here, has been spruced up: festive190 yuppie money has taken it over. These apartments are fashionable, high above the town as they are. Back then, thirty years ago, from the third floor, the view across the asphalted rooftops to the peaked houses and parked cars lower down just seemed an enlargement of their discontent, their defeat, a sense of defeat the years have brought back to him, after what seemed for a while to be triumphs. There had been, being here makes him remember, those cheap sliding screens at the windows, and a rusty191 furnace odor in the vestibule, and a plastic clown some kid had left in the dirt under the front?porch steps, now concrete carpeted green like those traffic islands down at Valhalla Village.
This row used to end Wilbur Street; development had stopped at a gravel192 turnaround, and an abandoned gravel quarry193 made the transition to the mountain's shaggy back side. Now a double row, not quite new, of shingled194 condominiums, with strangely exaggerated chimneys and gables like houses in a child's storybook, occupies still higher ground. The windows and doors and trim boards of these condos are tinted195 in pale and playful colors. The plantings and little lawns are still tenuous196; last night's downpour washed from the deforested acres of the mountain reddish mud that has drifted, hardening, all along the fresh curbs197 and overflowed198 onto the street's blue?black asphalt. We're using it all up, Harry thinks. The world.
He turns and walks downhill. On Potter Avenue he continues past Joseph and goes into a Turkey Hill Minit Market and to suppress his melancholy200 buys a ninety?nine?cent bag of Corn Chips. NET WT. 6%4 oz. 177 grams. Manufactured by Keystone Food Prod81., Inc., Easton, Pa. 18042 U.S.A. Ingredients: Corn, vegetable oil (contains one or more of the following oils: peanut, cottonseed, corn, partially201 hydrogenated soybean), salt. Doesn't sound so bad. KEEP ON KRUNCHIN', the crinkly pumpkin202?colored bag advises him. He loves the salty ghost of Indian corn and the way each thick flake203, an inch or so square, solider than a potato chip and flatter than a Frito and less burny to the tongue than a triangular red?peppered Dorito, sits edgy204 in his mouth and then shatters and dissolves between his teeth. There are certain things you love putting into your mouth ? Nibs205, Good & Plentys, dry?roasted peanuts, lima beans cooked not too soft ? and the rest is more or less disagreeable mush, or meat that gives the teeth too tough a fight and if you think about it almost makes you gag. Ever since childhood, Rabbit has had mixed feelings about eating, especially the creatures that not too long ago were living just like you. Sometimes he imagines he can taste the terror of the ax in the slice of turkey or chick-en and the happy snorting and wallowing in pork and the stupid monotony of a cow's life in beef, and in lamb a hint of urine like that whiff from Thelma's face in the hospital. Her dialysis now and their night in that tropical hut, bodily fluids, but there were lim-its to what bodies can do, and limits of involvement what with Janice and Ron and the kids and fussy206 living rooms all over Diamond County, and some limitation within him really, a fail-ure or refusal to love any substance but his own. And she too, she did tend afterwards to be curiously207 severe with him, as though he had become disgusting now that she had eaten, his sour?milk smell tainting208 her satisfied mouth. His meat having been eaten by her and now she being eaten by all that microscopic209 chewing from within. Lupus means wolf, she had told him, one of the auto-immune diseases in which the body attacks itself, antibodies attack your own tissue, self?hatred210 of a sort. Thinking of Thelma, Harry feels helpless and in his helplessness hard?hearted. The Corn Chips as he walks along the pavement begin to accumulate in his gut169 into a knotted muchness, a little ball of acid, and yet he cannot resist putting just one more into his mouth, to feel its warped salty edges, its virgin211 crunchiness, on his tongue, between his teeth, among these salivating membranes212. By the time he gets back to 89 Joseph behind its wall of sticky leafed?out Norway maples213 he has con-sumed the full bag, even the fragments of salt and corn small enough for an ant to carry back to his brown queen bloated in her maze215 beneath the sidewalk; he has wrapped himself around all 6%a ounces of sheer poison, pure sludge in his arteries216, an oily after-taste in his throat and between his teeth. He hates himself, with a certain relish217.
Janice is working at the dining?room table, making lists for her-self to memorize. When she looks up, her eyes have a rubbed frowning look and her mouth is open a dark slot. He hates to see it, hates to see her struggling so hard not to be dumb. His long walk has left him so tired he goes upstairs and takes off his slacks to keep the crease29 and lies down on Ma Springer's bed, on top of the covers but under the Amish quilt, a patchwork218 quilt that releases to his nostrils a memory of how Ma smelled toward the end, with a musty far odor of fleshly corners gone unwashed.
He finds himself suddenly scared to be out of the hospital white-ness, the antisepsis, the halls of softly clattering219 concern focused upon him . . . sick him.
He must have fallen asleep, for when he opens his eyes the day has a different tone through the room's single window: a cooler, shadowed menace. The rain coming closer. The clouds and tree-tops merging. From the sounds downstairs, Pru and both children are home, and footsteps move about in the hall outside much as years ago he would hear Melanie and Nelson sneak107 back and forth at night. It is not night, it is late afternoon. The children, home from school, have been instructed to be quiet because Grandpa is sleeping; but they are unable to resist the spurts220 of squalling and of glee that come over them. Life is noise. Rabbit's stomach hurts, he forgets why.
After they hear him make a trip down the hall to the bathroom, they come and visit him, the poor little semi?orphans221. Their four eyes, two green, two brown, feast on him from the bed's edge. Judy's face seems longer and graver than it was in Florida. She will have an Angstrom leanness, a hunted look. Her dress is lilac-colored, with white smocking. Does he imagine a touch of extra redness to her lips? Does Pru allow that? Certainly the child's hair has been given an artificial wave, a carrot?colored crimp. She asks, "Grandpa, did it hurt in the hospital?"
"Not much, Judy. It hurt my feelings, mostly, to be there at all."
"Did they fix that thing inside you?"
"Oh, yes. Don't you worry about that. My doctors says I'm better than ever."
"How come you're in bed, then?"
"Because Grandma was studying for her quiz and I didn't want to bother her."
"She says you're going to sleep over."
"Looks that way, doesn't it? A pajama party. Before you were born, Judy, Grandma and I lived here for years and years, with your great?grandmother Springer. You remember her?"
The child's eyes stare, their green intensified222 by the maple214 trees at the window. "A little bit. She had fat legs and wore thick orange stockings."
"That's right." But can Ma be no more than that in this child's memory? Do we dwindle223 so fast to next to nothing?
"I used to hate her stockings," Judy goes on, as if sensing his need for more and trying to meet it.
"Those were Sup?Hose," Harry explains.
"And she wore funny little round glasses she never took off: She'd let me play with the case. It snapped."
Roy, bored to hear all this about a woman he never met, begins to talk. His round face strains upward as if he's trying to swallow something rough, and his arched eyebrows pull his dark shiny eyes painfully open. "Daddy ? Daddy won't -" or perhaps he said "went"; he seems unable to wrestle224 his thoughts into shape and begins again with the strained word "Daddy."
Impatiently Judy gives him a push; he falls against a bedpost, there in the narrow space between the mattress225 edge and the beaded wainscoting. "Shut up if you can't talk," she tells him. "Daddy's in a rehab place getting better."
The child has hit his head; he stares at his grandfather as if wait-ing to be told what to do. "Ouch," Harry says for him, and, sit-ting up against Ma Springer's old brown headboard, opens his arms to the child. Roy dives against his chest and lets himself bawl, about his hurt head. His hair, when Harry rubs it, is stickily fine, like Janice's yesterday, when she cried. Something about being helpless in bed, people hit you up for sympathy. They've got you where they want you.
Judy talks right through Roy's aggrieved226 noise. "Grandpa, want to watch one of my videos with me? I have Dumbo and The Sound of Music and Dirty Dancing."
"I'd love to see Dirty Dancing sometime, I've seen the other two, but shouldn't you be doing your homework before dinner?"
The child smiles. "That's what Daddy always says. He never wants to watch a video with me." She looks at Roy being cradled and pulls at her brother's arm. "Come on, stupid. Don't lean on Grandpa's chest, you'll hurt him."
They go away. A ghostly moment as Judy stood by the bed reminded him of Jill, another of the many dead people he knows. The numbers are growing. Life is like a game they used to play on the elementary?school playground, Fox?in?the?Morning. You all lined up on one side of the asphalt area marked out for games. One person was "it," and that one would call out "Fox in the morn-ing," and you would all run to the other side, and "it" would grab one victim from the running throng227 and drag him or her into the circle painted on the asphalt, and then there would be two "it"s, and these would capture a few more on the next massed gallop228 from safety to safety, and these four would become eight, and soon a whole mob would be roving the center; the proportions were reversed. The last person left uncaught became "it" for the next game.
Sparse229 specks230 of rain have appeared on the panes231. His eyelids feel heavy again; a fog within is rising up to swallow his brain. When you are sleepy an inner world smaller than a seed in sun-light expands and becomes irresistible232, breaking the shell of con-sciousness. It is so strange; there must be some other way of being alive than all this eating and sleeping, this burning and freezing, this sun and moon. Day and night blend into each other but still are nothing the same.
The call to dinner comes from far away, through many thick-nesses of lath and plaster and hollow air, and from its sharp tone is being repeated. He can't believe he's been asleep; no time has passed, just a thought or two took a strange elastic233 shape as it went around a corner. His mouth feels furry234. The specks of rain on the window are still few, few enough to be counted. He recalls remembering today the window screens they had in the Wilbur Street apartment, the kind you used to buy in hardware stores before combination storms made them obsolete235. They never pre-cisely fit, leaving splinters of light through which the mosquitoes and midges could crawl, but that wasn't the something tragic236 about them. Tragedy lay in a certain filtered summer breath they admitted, the glint of sun along segments of the mesh238, an over-looked fervor239 in their details ? the bent screening, the sliding adjustable240 frame stamped with the manufacturer's name, the motionless molding of the window itself, like the bricks that all through Brewer loyally hold their pattern though the masons that laid them long ago are dead. Something tragic in matter itself, the way it keeps watch no matter how great our misery241. He went back to the apartment that day after Becky died and nothing was changed. The water in the tub, the chops in the skillet. The call to dinner repeats again, closer, in Janice's sharp voice, at the foot of the stairs: "Harry. Dinner."
"Coming, for Chrissake," he says.
Janice called but the meal was cooked by Pru; it is light, delicious, healthful. Baked sole garnished242 with parsley and chives and flavored with pepper and lemon, asparagus served steaming in a rectangular microwave dish, and in a big wooden bowl a salad including celery and carrot slices and dates and green grapes. The salad bowl and microwave equipment are new since Ma Springer died.
Everybody eats but nobody has much to say except Janice, who chatters243 on bravely about her quiz, her class, the people in it, some of them women like herself developing midlife careers and others young people that seem much the way we were in the Fifties, running scared, economically, and playing everything safe. She mentions her teacher, Mr. Lister, and Judy laughs out loud at the name, repeating it, the rhyme of it. "Don't laugh, Judy, he has such a sad face," Janice says.
Judy tells some involved story about what a boy at school did today: he accidentally spilled paint for a poster they were making all over the floor and when the teacher bawled244 him out took the spilled jar and shook it at her so some got on her dress. Meanwhile there is this one black boy in the class, his family has just moved to Mt. Judge from Baltimore, and he was painting his face all over with these designs that have a secret meaning, he said. Her talk is a little like her excited channel?flipping and it occurs to Harry that she is making it up or confusing her own classroom with classroom shows she has seen on television.
Pru asks Harry how he is feeling. He says fine; his breathing does feel freer since the operation ? "the procedure, the doctors like to call it" ? and his memory for that matter better. He wonders how soft in the head he was getting before without realizing it. Really, he says, apologizing to her for her trouble, thanking her for the good healthy meal that he has managed to get down on top of the fermenting245 lump of Corn Chips, saying he could perfectly well have been left alone in his own house tonight.
Janice says she knows it is probably foolish but she could never forgive herself if he took a bad turn while she was in class and how could she concentrate on liens246 and curtilage and lex loci thinking he was back in the house drowning?
The other adults at the table hold their breaths at this slip; Harry gently says, when the silence gets unbearable247, "You don't mean drowning," and Janice asks, "Did I say drowning?," knowing now in her ear's recall that she did. Harry sees that she only seems to have forgotten Rebecca, that in her own mind she is always and will always be the woman who drowned her own baby. It was this time of year, late spring, they are approaching the anniversary, in June. Janice rises, flustered248, blushing, shamed.
"Who wants coffee besides me?" she asks, all eyes upon her, like an actress who must come up with some line.
"And there's some butter?pecan ice cream for dessert if anybody wants," Pru says, her flat Ohio voice having fallen over the years into the local locutions, that considerate Pennsylvania way of speaking as if to make things clear in a stupefying haze249. She has taken off the cardigan and folded back the cuffs250 of her mannish khaki shirt so that half her downy freckled251 forearms show, there at the kitchen table, under the faceted252?glass light fixture253 overhead.
"My favorite flavor," Harry says, pitying his wife, wanting to help her out of the brightly lit center of the stage; even little Roy with his inky eyes is staring at Janice, sensing something strange, a curse nobody mentions.
"Harry, that's the worst possible thing for you," Janice says, grateful for this opportunity he has given her for a quarrel, a scene. "Ice cream and nuts both."
Pru says, "I got some frozen yogurt with Harry in mind. Peach and banana I think are the flavors."
"It's not the same," Harry says, clowning to keep the attention of both women. "I want butter?pecan. With something. How about some good old?fashioned apple strudel, with all that sort of wallpaper paste inside? Or some sticky buns? Or shoo?fly pie? Yum: huh, Roy?"
"Oh, Harry, you're going to kill yourself!" Janice cries, excessively, her grief centered elsewhere.
"There's something called ice milk," Pru is saying, and he feels that her heart too is elsewhere, that throughout the meal she has been maneuvering254 around the covered?up hole of Nelson's absence, which no one has mentioned, not even the wide?eyed children.
"Shoo?fly pie," Roy says, in an oddly deep and mannish voice, and when they explain to him that there isn't really any, that it was just a joke of Grandpa's, he feels he has made a mistake, and in his weariness at learning all day to be more independent he begins to whimper.
"Makes your eyes light up," Rabbit sings to him, "and your tummy say `howdy."'
Pru takes Roy upstairs while Janice serves Judy butter?pecan ice cream and stacks the dishes into the dishwasher. Harry kept his spoon and digs into Judy's dish while Janice's back is turned. He loves that second when the tongue flattens255 the ice cream against the roof of the mouth and the fragments of pecan emerge like stars at evening. "Oh Grandpa, you shouldn't," Judy says, looking at him with genuine fright, though her lips want to smile.
He touches his own lips with a finger and promises, "Just one spoonful," while going for another.
The child calls for help: "Grandma!"
"He's just teasing," Janice says, but asks him, "Would you like your own dish?"
This gets him up from the table. "I shouldn't have ice cream, that's the worst thing for me," he tells her, and scolds, seeing the jumble256 of plates she has stacked in the dishwasher, "My God, you have no system ? look at all the space you're wasting!"
"You stack it, then," she says, a modern woman, and while he does, fitting the dishes closer together, in harrowlike rows, she gathers together her papers and book and purse from the diningroom table. "Damn," she says, and comes to the kitchen to tell Harry, "All my planning this morning what to wear and I forget to bring a raincoat." The rain has settled in outside, sheathing257 the house in a loud murmur62.
"Maybe Pru could lend you one."
"It would fall off me," she says. But she goes upstairs to where Pru is putting Roy to bed and after a conversation Harry can't hear comes down in a cherry?red waterproof258 plastic coat, with wide lapels and a belt too long and gleaming zigzags259 under the light. "Do I look ridiculous?"
"Not exactly," he tells her. It excites him, this transposition: you follow the zigzagging260 creases261 up expecting to see red?haired Pru staring back and instead it's Janice's middle?aged237 face, framed in a splashy bandanna262 not hers either.
"Also, damn, I'm so mad at myself, I left my lucky pen on the upstairs table back home. And there's no time to drive back for it, in all this rain."
"Maybe you're taking all this too seriously," he says. "What're you trying to prove to the teacher?"
"I'm trying to prove something to myself," she says. "Tell Pru I've left and that I'll be back at ten?thirty, maybe eleven if we decide to go out for beers afterward. You go to bed and rest. You look tired, honey." She gives him in parting a pointed263 little fingering kiss, grateful for something. Glad to go. All these other male advisers264 she suddenly has ? Charlie, Mr. Lister, the new accountant ? seem an invasion as devious265 as that televised catheter nudging forward into his shadowy webbed heart.
The murmur around the house sounds louder after Janice's footsteps on the porch and the sound of the Camry starting up. She has a panicky way of racing266 the engine before she puts a car in gear, and usually jumps off like a drag?racer. Janice is wrapped in Pru's cherry raincoat, and he is the man of Pru's house.
On the set in the living room, he and Judy watch the end of ABC news on Channel 6 (that Peter Jennings: here he is telling Americans all about America and he still says "aboot" for "about," he's so Canadian) and then, with Judy punching the remote control, they skip back and forth between jeopardy267! and Simon and Simon and the seven?o'clock syndicated reruns of Cosby and Cheers. Pru drifts downstairs, having put Roy down, and into the kitchen to tidy up totally after Janice's half?ass43 job and then through the dining room checking that all the windows are shut against the rain and into the sun room where she picks a few dead leaves off the plants on Ma Springer's old iron table there. Finally she comes into the living room and sits on the old sofa beside him, while Judy in the Barcalounger channel?surfs. On the Cosby Show rerun, the Huxtables are having one of those child?rearing crises bound to dissolve like a lump of sugar in their warm good humor, their mutual268 lovingness: Vanessa and her friends get all excited about entering a local dance contest, with lip synching, and get instruction from an old black nightclub pianist and when the time comes to demonstrate for their parents in their living room they bump and grind with a sexuality so startling and premature269 that Mrs. Huxtable, Claire, in real life the terrific Phylicia Rashad, married to the frog?eyed black sports commentator270, restores decency271, stopping the record and sending the girls back upstairs, yet with that smile of hers, that wide white slightly lippy black woman's smile, implying that indecency is all right, in its place, its wise time, as in one of those mutually ogling272 Huxtable snuggles that end many a Cosby Show. Beside him on the sofa Pru is staring at the screen with a jewel, a tear glittering in a comer of the eye toward him. From the Barcalounger Judy snaps the channel to a shot of tropical sky and a huge mottled turtle turning its head slowly while a Godlike voiceover intones, " . . . determined273 to defend its breeding grounds."
"Goddamn it, Judy, put it back to the Cosbys right now," Harry says, furious less for himself than for Pru, to whom the show seemed to be a vision of lost possibilities.
Judy, startled just like the girls on the show, does put it back, but by now it's a commercial, and she cries, as the insult sinks in, "I want Daddy back! Everybody else is mean to me!"
She starts to cry, Pru rises to comfort her, Rabbit retreats in disgrace. He circles the house, listening to the rain, marvelling274 that he once lived here, remembering the dead and the dead versions of the living who lived here with him, finding a half?full jar of dry?roasted cashews on a high kitchen shelf and, on the kitchen television set, a cable rerun of last night's playoff game between the Knicks and the Bulls. He hates the way Michael Jordan's pink tongue rolls around in his mouth as he goes up for a dunk. He has seen Jordan interviewed, he's an intelligent guy, why does he swing his tongue around like an imbecile? The few white players there are on the floor look pathetically naked, their pasty sweat, their fuzzy armpit hair; it seems incredible to Harry that he himself was ever out there in this naked game, though in those days the shorts were a little longer and the tank?top armholes not quite so big. He has finished off the jar of cashews without noticing and suddenly the basketball?Jordan changing direction in midair not once but twice and sinking an awkward fall?back jumper with Ewing's giant hand square in his face ?pains him with its rubbery activity, an extreme of bodily motion his nerves but not his muscles can remember. He needs a Nitrostat from the little bottle in the coat jacket in that shallow closet upstairs. The hauntedness of the downstairs is getting to him. He turns off the kitchen light and holds his breath passing Ma Springer's old breakfront in the darkened dining room, where the wallpaper crawls with the streetlight projections275 of rain running down the windows.
In the upstairs hall, he hears from Ma's old room, now Judy's, the murmur of a television set, and dares tap the door and push in. The little girl has been put into a sleeveless nightie and, holding her stuffed dolphin, sits propped276 up on two pillows while her mother sits on the bed beside her. The TV set flickering277 at the foot of the bed picks out pale patches ? the whites of Judy's eyes, her bare shoulders, the dolphin's belly, Pru's long forearms laid across the child's flat chest. He clears his throat and says, "Hey, Judy sorry if I got a bit mean down there."
With a hushing impatient hand motion she indicates that her grandfather is forgiven and ought to come in and watch with them. In the blue unsteady light, he picks out a child's straight chair and brings it close to the bed and lowers himself to it; he virtually squats278. Raindrops glint on the panes in the light from Joseph Street. He looks at Pru's profile for the glint of a tear but her face is composed. Her nose comes to a sharp point, her lips are clamped together. They are watching Unsolved Mysteries: pale, overweight American faces float into the camera's range, earnestly telling of UFOs seen over sugar?beet279 fields, above shopping malls, in Navajo reservations, while their homely280 rooms and furniture, exposed to the glaring lights the cameras require, have the detailed281 hard weirdness282 of diatoms seen under a microscope. Harry is struck by how well, really, these small?town sheriffs and trailercamp housewives, and even the drifters and dropouts who just happened to be tripping out on a deserted283 picnic grounds when the geniuses commanding the UFOs decided284 to land and sample the terrestrial fauna285, speak ? a nation of performers, of smoothly286 talking heads, has sprung up under the lights, everybody rehearsed for their thirty seconds of nationwide attention. During the commercials, Judy skips to other channels, to Jacques Cousteau in a diving suit, to Porky Pig in his big?buttoned blue vest (odd, those old cartoon animals all going around with bare bottoms), to a stringy?haired rock singer mouthing his mike in a lathered287?up agony like a female porn star approaching a blow job, to a courtroom scene where the judge's shifty eyes in a second show that he is in on a deal, a hummingbird288 beating its surprisingly flexible wings in slow motion, Angela Lansbury looking shocked, Greer Garson looking gently out of focus in black and white, and back to Unsolved Mysteries, now about an infant who disappeared from a New York hospital, making Robert Stack, in his mystical raincoat, extra quizzical. Having been rude before, Rabbit holds his tongue. He feels fragile. The flickering images bear down upon him, relentless289 as heartbeats. With the mystery of the vanished baby still unsolved, he rises and kisses Judy goodnight, his face gliding290 past the bigger one next to hers. "Love you, Grandpa," the child mechanically says, forgiving or forgetful.
"Lights are off downstairs," he mutters to Pru.
"I need to go down anyway," she says, softly, both of them fearful of breaking the spell that exists between the child and the television set.
Her face, as his face glided291 past it on the way to kiss another, exuded292 an aura, shampooey?powdery, just as the trees outside the house are yielding to the rain a leafy fresh tree?smell.
This green wet fragrance293 is present in his room too, the old sewing room, where the headless dress dummy stands. He changes into the clean pajamas Janice uncharacteristically had the foresight294 to bring. A blooming cottony weariness has overtaken him, enveloping295 him like the rain. In the narrow room its sound is more distinct than elsewhere, and complicated, a conversation involving the porch roof, the house gutter, the echoing downspout, the yielding leaves of the maples, the swish of a passing car. Closest to him, periodic spurts of dripping between the storm window and the wooden sash suggest some leakage296 into the walls and an eventual297 trouble of rot. Not his problem. Fewer and fewer things are.
The window is open a little for air and stray droplets298 prick299 the skin of his hands as he stands a moment looking out. Mt. Judge doesn't change much, at least here in the older section, but has dropped away beneath his life as if beneath a rising airplane. His life flowed along this shining asphalt, past these tilted lawns and brick?pillared porches, and left no trace. The town never knew him, the way he had imagined as a child it did, every pebble300 and milkbox and tulip bed eyelessly watching him pass; each house had been turned inward, into itself. A blurred301 lit window across the street displays an empty easy chair, a set of brassheaded fireplace tools, a brick mantel supporting a pair of oblivious302 candlesticks.
Rabbit hurries in bare feet down the hall to the bathroom and back and into bed, before it is nine o'clock. At the hospital by now the last visitors would be long gone, the flurry of bathroom?going and pill?taking that followed their departure subsided303, the lights and nurses' voices in the hall turned down. There is no reading lamp in his room, just a paper?shaded overhead he resists switching on. He noticed a stack of old Consumer's Digests in the closet but figures the products they evaluated will all be off the market by now. The history book Janice gave him, that he can't get through although he is more than halfway304, is back in the Penn Park den13. Nor is the streetlight enough to read by. It projects rhomboidal ghosts of the windowpanes, alive with a spasmodic motion as raindrops tremblingly gather and then break downward in sudden streaks305. Like the origins of life in one of those educational television shows he watches: molecules306 collecting and collecting at random307 and then twitched308 into life by lightning. Behind his head, past the old brown headboard with its jigsaw309 scrolls310 and mushroom?topped posts, his dead mother?in?law's sewing machine waits for her little swollen311 foot to press its treadle into life, and her short plump fingers to poke119 a wetted thread through its rusted47 needle. About as likely that to happen as life just rising up out of molecules. A smothered312 concussion313, distant thunder, sounds in the direction of Brewer, and the treetops stir. Harry's head is up on two pillows so the full feeling in his chest is eased. His heart is giving him no pain, just floats wounded on the sea of ebbing314 time. Time passes, he doesn't know how much, before the door handle turns and clicks and a slant24 rod of hall light stabs into the amniotic isolation315 of the little borrowed room.
Pru's head, with coppery highlights on the top of her hair, pokes in. "You awake?" she asks in almost a whisper. Her voice seems roughened and her face is a milky316 heart?shaped shadow.
"Yep," Rabbit says. "Just lying here listening to the rain. You get Judy settled?"
"Finally," the young woman says, and with the exasperated317 emphasis enters the room wholly, standing erect. She is wearing that shorty bathrobe of hers, her legs cased in a white shadow descending318 to her ankles. "She's very upset about Nelson, natur-ally."
"Naturally. Sorry I blew up at her," he says. "The last thing the poor kid needs." He pushes up on his elbows, feeling himself somehow host, his heart thundering at the strangeness, though after his days in the hospital he should be used to people seeing him in bed.
"I don't know," Pru says. "Maybe it was just what she needed. A little structure. She thinks she has a right to all the TV sets in the world. Mind if I smoke?"
"Not at all."
"I mean, I see the window's a little bit open, but if it -"
"It doesn't," he says. "I like it. Other people's smoke. Almost as good as your own. After thirty years, I still miss it. How come you haven't given it up, with all this health kick?"
"I had," Pru says. Her face in the blue?green flare319 of her Bic lighter46 ? a little tube as of lipstick320 ? looks flinty, determined, a face stripped to essentials, with a long shadow leaping across her cheek from her nose. The flame goes out. She loudly exhales321. Her voice continues in the renewed shadows. "Except for maybe one or two at night to keep myself from eating. But now, this thing with Nelson ? why not? What does anything matter?" Her hovering322 face shows one profile, then the other. "There's no place to sit in here. This is an awful room."
He smells not only her cigarette smoke but her femininity, the faint department?store sweetness that clings to women, in the lotions323 they use, the shampoo. "It's cozy," he says, and moves his legs so she can sit on the bed.
"I bet you were asleep," Pru says. "I'll only stay for this cigar-ette. I just need a little adult company." She inhales324 like a man, deep, so the smoke comes out thin in a double jet from her mouth and nostrils, and keeps coming for several breaths. "I hope putting the kids down with Nelson gone isn't such a nightmare every night. They need so much reassurance325."
"I thought he wasn't here a lot of nights."
"This time of night he usually was. The action over at the Laid-Back doesn't begin until around ten. He'd come home from work, eat, be with the kids, and then get restless. I honestly think most nights he didn't plan to go out for a couple hits again, it just came over him and he couldn't help himself." She takes another drag. He hears her intake326, like a sigh with several levels, and remembers how it was, to smoke. It was creating out of air an extension of yourself. "With the kids, he was helpful. However much of a shit he was to everybody else, he wasn't a bad father. Isn't. I shouldn't talk about him as if he's dead."
He asks her, "What time is it, anyway?"
"Quarter after nine or so."
Janice would get back at ten?thirty at the earliest. There was plenty of time to see this through. He relaxes back into his pillows. Good he had that nap this afternoon. "Is that how you see it?" he asks. "He was a shit to you?"
"Absolutely. Terrible. Out all night doing God knows what, then this snivelling and begging for forgiveness afterwards. I hated that worse than the chasing; my father was a boozer and a chaser, but then he wouldn't whine327 to Mom about it, he'd at least let her do the whining328. This immature329 dependence330 of Nelson's was totally outside my experience."
Her cigarette tip glows. A distant concussion of thunder steps closer. Pru's presence here feels hot in Harry's mind, she is awk-wardly big and all sharp angles in the sac of his consciousness. Her talk seems angular and tough, the gritty Akron toughness overlaid with a dismissive vocabulary learned from professional copers. He doesn't like hearing his son called immature. "You knew him for some time out at Kent," he points out, almost hostilely. "You knew what you were taking on."
"Harry, I didn't," she says, and the cigarette tip loops through an agitated arc. "I thought he'd grow, I never dreamed how enmeshed he was, with you two. He's still trying to work out what you two did to him, as if you were the only parents in the world who didn't keep wiping their kid's ass until he was thirty. I tell him: Get real, Nelson. Lousy parents are par5 for the course. My God. Nothing's ideal. Then he gets sore and tells me what a cold fish I am. He means sex. A thing that goes fast with coke is shame; these women that are hooked will do anything. I say to him, You're not going to give me AIDS from one of your coke whores. So he goes out again. It's a vicious circle. It's been going on for years."
"How many years, would you say?"
When she shrugs her shoulders, Ma's old bed shakes. "More than you'd think. That crowd around Slim was always doing pot and uppers ? gays don't give a damn, they have all this money only for themselves. Maybe two years ago Nelson became a big enough user on his own to need to steal. At first he just stole from us, money that should have gone into the house and stuff, and then he started stealing from you ? the company. I hope you send him to jail, I really do." She has been cupping her hand beneath the cigarette, to catch the ash, and now she looks around for an ash-tray and sees none and finally flips331 the butt37 toward the window, where it sparks against the screen and sizzles out on the wet sill. Her voice is hoarsening and finding a certain swing, a welling up. "I have no use for him any more. I'm scared to fuck him, I'm scared to be legally associated with him. I've wasted my life. You don't know what it's like. You're a man, you're free, you can do what you want in life, until you're sixty at least you're a buyer. A woman's a seller. She has to be. And she better not haggle332 too long. I'm thirty?three. I've had my shot, Harry. I wasted it on Nelson. I had my little hand of cards and played them and now I'm folded, I'm through. My husband hates me and I hate him and we don't even have any money to split up! I'm scared ? so scared. And my kids are scared, too. I'm trash and they're trash and they know it."
"Hey, hey," he has to say. "Come on. Nobody's trash." But even as he says it he knows this is an old?fashioned idea he would have trouble defending. We're all trash, really. Without God to lift us up and make us into angels we're all trash.
Her sobbing333 is shaking the bed so badly that in his delicate post-op state he feels queasy334. To quiet her big body he reaches out and pulls her toward him. As if expecting his touch, she huddles335 tightly, though a blanket and a sheet are between them, and continues sobbing in a bitter, lower register, her breath hot on his chest, where a pajama button has come undone336. His chest. They want to carve it up. "At least you're healthy," he tells her. "Me, all they need to do is nail down the coffin337 lid. I can't run, I can't fuck, I can't eat anything I like, I know damn well they're going to talk me into a bypass. You're scared? You're still young. You've got lots of cards still. Think of how scared I feel."
In his arms Pru says in a voice gone calm again, "People have bypass operations all the time now."
"Yeah, easy for you to say. Like me telling you people are mar-ried to shits all the time. Or you telling me people have their kids turn out to be dope?addict embezzlers all the time."
A small laugh. A flash of light outside and, after some seconds, thunder. Both listen. She asks, "Does Janice say you can't fuck?"
"We don't talk about it. We just don't do it much lately. There's been too much else going on."
"What did your doctor say?"
"I forget. My cardiologist's about Nelson's age, we were all too shy to go into it."
Pru sniffs and says, "I hate my life." She seems to him to be unnaturally338 still, like a rabbit in oncoming headlights.
He lets the hand of the arm around her broad back move up across the bumps of the quilted robe and enter the silken cave at the nape of her neck, to toy with the warm hair there. "I know the feeling," he says, content to toy, aware through the length of his body of a cottony sleepiness waiting to claim him.
She tells him, "You were one of the things I liked about Nelson. Maybe I thought Nelson would grow into somebody like you."
"Maybe he did. You don't get to see what a bastard161 I can be."
"I can imagine," she says. "But people provoke you."
He goes on, "I see a lot of myself in the kid." The nape of her neck tingles339 under his fingers, the soft hairs rising to his electricity. "I'm glad you're letting your hair grow long," he says.
"It gets too long." Her hand has come to rest on his bare chest, where the button is unbuttoned. He pictures her hands with their pink?knuckled340 vulnerable raw look. She is left?handed, he remembers. The oddity of this excites him further. Not waiting too long to think about it, he with his free hand lifts hers from his chest and places it lower, where an erection has surprisingly sprouted341 from his half?shaved groin. His gesture has the pre?sexual quality of one child sharing with another an interesting discovery ? a stone that moves, or a remarkably342 thick?bodied butterfly. The eyes widen in the dim face inches from his on the pillow. Tiny points of light are caught in her lashes. He lets his face drift, on the tide of blood risen within him, across those inches to set their mouths together, carefully testing for the angle, while her fingers caress59 him in a rhythm slower than that of his thudding heart. As the space narrows to nothing he is watchful343 of his heart, his ac-complice in sin. Their kiss tastes to him of the fish she so nicely prepared, its lemon and chives, and of asparagus.
Rain whips at the screen. The leak onto the windowsill accel-erates its tapping. A brilliant close flash shocks the air everywhere and less than a second later a heart?stopping crack and splintering of thunder crushes the house from above. As if in overflow199 of this natural heedlessness, Pru says "Shit," jumps from the bed, slams shut the window, pulls down the shade, tears open her bathrobe and sheds it, and, reaching down, pulls her nightie up over her head. Her tall pale wide?hipped344 nakedness in the dimmed room is lovely much as those pear trees in blossom along that block in Brewer last month were lovely, all his it had seemed, a piece of Paradise blundered upon, incredible.
点击收听单词发音
1 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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2 brewer | |
n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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3 renovated | |
翻新,修复,整修( renovate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4 tar | |
n.柏油,焦油;vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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5 par | |
n.标准,票面价值,平均数量;adj.票面的,平常的,标准的 | |
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6 limestone | |
n.石灰石 | |
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7 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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8 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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9 derive | |
v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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10 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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11 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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12 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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13 den | |
n.兽穴;秘密地方;安静的小房间,私室 | |
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14 brittle | |
adj.易碎的;脆弱的;冷淡的;(声音)尖利的 | |
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15 warped | |
adj.反常的;乖戾的;(变)弯曲的;变形的v.弄弯,变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 );使(行为等)不合情理,使乖戾, | |
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16 moth | |
n.蛾,蛀虫 | |
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17 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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18 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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19 crackers | |
adj.精神错乱的,癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 );薄脆饼干;(认为)十分愉快的事;迷人的姑娘 | |
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20 sodium | |
n.(化)钠 | |
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21 con | |
n.反对的观点,反对者,反对票,肺病;vt.精读,学习,默记;adv.反对地,从反面;adj.欺诈的 | |
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22 tawny | |
adj.茶色的,黄褐色的;n.黄褐色 | |
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23 slanting | |
倾斜的,歪斜的 | |
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24 slant | |
v.倾斜,倾向性地编写或报道;n.斜面,倾向 | |
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25 lettuce | |
n.莴苣;生菜 | |
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26 nibble | |
n.轻咬,啃;v.一点点地咬,慢慢啃,吹毛求疵 | |
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27 memo | |
n.照会,备忘录;便笺;通知书;规章 | |
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28 rust | |
n.锈;v.生锈;(脑子)衰退 | |
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29 crease | |
n.折缝,褶痕,皱褶;v.(使)起皱 | |
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30 outfit | |
n.(为特殊用途的)全套装备,全套服装 | |
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31 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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32 hood | |
n.头巾,兜帽,覆盖;v.罩上,以头巾覆盖 | |
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33 cylinder | |
n.圆筒,柱(面),汽缸 | |
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34 hoops | |
n.箍( hoop的名词复数 );(篮球)篮圈;(旧时儿童玩的)大环子;(两端埋在地里的)小铁弓 | |
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35 pegs | |
n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 );挂钉;系帐篷的桩;弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 );使固定在某水平 | |
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36 jersey | |
n.运动衫 | |
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37 butt | |
n.笑柄;烟蒂;枪托;臀部;v.用头撞或顶 | |
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38 askew | |
adv.斜地;adj.歪斜的 | |
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39 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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40 uprooted | |
v.把(某物)连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 );根除;赶走;把…赶出家园 | |
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41 aluminum | |
n.(aluminium)铝 | |
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42 flattened | |
[医](水)平扁的,弄平的 | |
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43 ass | |
n.驴;傻瓜,蠢笨的人 | |
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44 licenses | |
n.执照( license的名词复数 )v.批准,许可,颁发执照( license的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45 revving | |
v.(使)加速( rev的现在分词 );(数量、活动等)激增;(使发动机)快速旋转;(使)活跃起来 | |
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46 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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47 rusted | |
v.(使)生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48 rumpled | |
v.弄皱,使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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50 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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51 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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52 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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53 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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54 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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55 psychic | |
n.对超自然力敏感的人;adj.有超自然力的 | |
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56 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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57 scoffs | |
嘲笑,嘲弄( scoff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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58 lank | |
adj.瘦削的;稀疏的 | |
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59 caress | |
vt./n.爱抚,抚摸 | |
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60 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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61 maternal | |
adj.母亲的,母亲般的,母系的,母方的 | |
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62 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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63 tickle | |
v.搔痒,胳肢;使高兴;发痒;n.搔痒,发痒 | |
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64 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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65 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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66 flinches | |
v.(因危险和痛苦)退缩,畏惧( flinch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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67 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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68 lashes | |
n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 );鞭子;突然猛烈的一击;急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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69 addict | |
v.使沉溺;使上瘾;n.沉溺于不良嗜好的人 | |
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70 tighten | |
v.(使)变紧;(使)绷紧 | |
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71 sniffs | |
v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的第三人称单数 );抽鼻子(尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气);抱怨,不以为然地说 | |
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72 nostrils | |
鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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73 bantering | |
adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑,说笑,逗乐( banter的现在分词 );(善意地)取笑,逗弄 | |
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74 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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75 murky | |
adj.黑暗的,朦胧的;adv.阴暗地,混浊地;n.阴暗;昏暗 | |
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76 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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77 collapsed | |
adj.倒塌的 | |
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78 stonily | |
石头地,冷酷地 | |
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79 stoniness | |
冷漠,一文不名 | |
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80 numb | |
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木 | |
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81 prod | |
vt.戳,刺;刺激,激励 | |
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82 wriggling | |
v.扭动,蠕动,蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 );(使身体某一部位)扭动;耍滑不做,逃避(应做的事等);蠕蠕 | |
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83 numbness | |
n.无感觉,麻木,惊呆 | |
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84 puff | |
n.一口(气);一阵(风);v.喷气,喘气 | |
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85 prospective | |
adj.预期的,未来的,前瞻性的 | |
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86 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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87 sneers | |
讥笑的表情(言语)( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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88 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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89 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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90 sneering | |
嘲笑的,轻蔑的 | |
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91 grudgingly | |
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92 resistant | |
adj.(to)抵抗的,有抵抗力的 | |
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93 wriggle | |
v./n.蠕动,扭动;蜿蜒 | |
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94 athletic | |
adj.擅长运动的,强健的;活跃的,体格健壮的 | |
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95 hoists | |
把…吊起,升起( hoist的第三人称单数 ) | |
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96 inflicting | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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97 copper | |
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的 | |
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98 beech | |
n.山毛榉;adj.山毛榉的 | |
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99 scudding | |
n.刮面v.(尤指船、舰或云彩)笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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100 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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101 slabs | |
n.厚板,平板,厚片( slab的名词复数 );厚胶片 | |
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102 tilted | |
v. 倾斜的 | |
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103 treacherous | |
adj.不可靠的,有暗藏的危险的;adj.背叛的,背信弃义的 | |
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104 flickers | |
电影制片业; (通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的名词复数 ) | |
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105 scurrying | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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106 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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107 sneak | |
vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝);偷偷摸摸做;n.潜行;adj.暗中进行 | |
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108 sluggishly | |
adv.懒惰地;缓慢地 | |
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109 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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110 villains | |
n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 );罪犯;(小说、戏剧等中的)反面人物;淘气鬼 | |
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111 galaxies | |
星系( galaxy的名词复数 ); 银河系; 一群(杰出或著名的人物) | |
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112 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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113 subside | |
vi.平静,平息;下沉,塌陷,沉降 | |
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114 wasps | |
黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 ); 胡蜂; 易动怒的人; 刻毒的人 | |
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115 arthritic | |
adj.关节炎的 | |
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116 vomit | |
v.呕吐,作呕;n.呕吐物,吐出物 | |
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117 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
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118 sane | |
adj.心智健全的,神志清醒的,明智的,稳健的 | |
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119 poke | |
n.刺,戳,袋;vt.拨开,刺,戳;vi.戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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120 pokes | |
v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 );戳出;拨弄;与(某人)性交 | |
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121 triangular | |
adj.三角(形)的,三者间的 | |
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122 irritation | |
n.激怒,恼怒,生气 | |
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123 shrugs | |
n.耸肩(以表示冷淡,怀疑等)( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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124 clout | |
n.用手猛击;权力,影响力 | |
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125 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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126 obsessed | |
adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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127 lackadaisical | |
adj.无精打采的,无兴趣的;adv.无精打采地,不决断地 | |
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128 locker | |
n.更衣箱,储物柜,冷藏室,上锁的人 | |
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129 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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130 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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131 impulsive | |
adj.冲动的,刺激的;有推动力的 | |
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132 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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133 meekly | |
adv.温顺地,逆来顺受地 | |
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134 suede | |
n.表面粗糙的软皮革 | |
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135 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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136 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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137 slumped | |
大幅度下降,暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 ); 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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138 conceited | |
adj.自负的,骄傲自满的 | |
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139 battering | |
n.用坏,损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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140 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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141 skyscraper | |
n.摩天大楼 | |
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142 addicts | |
有…瘾的人( addict的名词复数 ); 入迷的人 | |
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143 touchy | |
adj.易怒的;棘手的 | |
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144 groans | |
n.呻吟,叹息( groan的名词复数 );呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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145 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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146 materialistic | |
a.唯物主义的,物质享乐主义的 | |
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147 defiant | |
adj.无礼的,挑战的 | |
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148 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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149 addicted | |
adj.沉溺于....的,对...上瘾的 | |
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150 fumbling | |
n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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151 basking | |
v.晒太阳,取暖( bask的现在分词 );对…感到乐趣;因他人的功绩而出名;仰仗…的余泽 | |
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152 hazy | |
adj.有薄雾的,朦胧的;不肯定的,模糊的 | |
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153 merging | |
合并(分类) | |
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154 overcast | |
adj.阴天的,阴暗的,愁闷的;v.遮盖,(使)变暗,包边缝;n.覆盖,阴天 | |
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155 bawl | |
v.大喊大叫,大声地喊,咆哮 | |
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156 flipping | |
讨厌之极的 | |
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157 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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158 intruding | |
v.侵入,侵扰,打扰( intrude的现在分词);把…强加于 | |
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159 flunk | |
v.(考试)不及格(=fail) | |
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160 bastards | |
私生子( bastard的名词复数 ); 坏蛋; 讨厌的事物; 麻烦事 (认为别人走运或不幸时说)家伙 | |
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161 bastard | |
n.坏蛋,混蛋;私生子 | |
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162 pajamas | |
n.睡衣裤 | |
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163 dummy | |
n.假的东西;(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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164 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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165 puddle | |
n.(雨)水坑,泥潭 | |
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166 crammed | |
adj.塞满的,挤满的;大口地吃;快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满;填入;临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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167 photocopies | |
n.影印本( photocopy的名词复数 );复印件 | |
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168 gutter | |
n.沟,街沟,水槽,檐槽,贫民窟 | |
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169 gut | |
n.[pl.]胆量;内脏;adj.本能的;vt.取出内脏 | |
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170 permanently | |
adv.永恒地,永久地,固定不变地 | |
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171 tinged | |
v.(使)发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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172 borough | |
n.享有自治权的市镇;(英)自治市镇 | |
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173 aerobics | |
n.健身操,健美操,韵律操 | |
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174 dough | |
n.生面团;钱,现款 | |
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175 garish | |
adj.华丽而俗气的,华而不实的 | |
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176 outfits | |
n.全套装备( outfit的名词复数 );一套服装;集体;组织v.装备,配置设备,供给服装( outfit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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177 tug | |
v.用力拖(或拉);苦干;n.拖;苦干;拖船 | |
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178 pretentious | |
adj.自命不凡的,自负的,炫耀的 | |
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179 slate | |
n.板岩,石板,石片,石板色,候选人名单;adj.暗蓝灰色的,含板岩的;vt.用石板覆盖,痛打,提名,预订 | |
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180 alley | |
n.小巷,胡同;小径,小路 | |
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181 ribs | |
n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 );(船或屋顶等的)肋拱;肋骨状的东西;(织物的)凸条花纹 | |
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182 tingle | |
vi.感到刺痛,感到激动;n.刺痛,激动 | |
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183 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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184 bruise | |
n.青肿,挫伤;伤痕;vt.打青;挫伤 | |
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185 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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186 gloss | |
n.光泽,光滑;虚饰;注释;vt.加光泽于;掩饰 | |
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187 maroon | |
v.困住,使(人)处于孤独无助之境;n.逃亡黑奴;孤立的人;酱紫色,褐红色;adj.酱紫色的,褐红色的 | |
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188 ornamented | |
adj.花式字体的v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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189 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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190 festive | |
adj.欢宴的,节日的 | |
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191 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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192 gravel | |
n.砂跞;砂砾层;结石 | |
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193 quarry | |
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找 | |
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194 shingled | |
adj.盖木瓦的;贴有墙面板的v.用木瓦盖(shingle的过去式和过去分词形式) | |
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195 tinted | |
adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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196 tenuous | |
adj.细薄的,稀薄的,空洞的 | |
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197 curbs | |
v.限制,克制,抑制( curb的第三人称单数 ) | |
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198 overflowed | |
溢出的 | |
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199 overflow | |
v.(使)外溢,(使)溢出;溢出,流出,漫出 | |
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200 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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201 partially | |
adv.部分地,从某些方面讲 | |
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202 pumpkin | |
n.南瓜 | |
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203 flake | |
v.使成薄片;雪片般落下;n.薄片 | |
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204 edgy | |
adj.不安的;易怒的 | |
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205 nibs | |
上司,大人物; 钢笔尖,鹅毛管笔笔尖( nib的名词复数 ); 可可豆的碎粒; 小瑕疵 | |
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206 fussy | |
adj.为琐事担忧的,过分装饰的,爱挑剔的 | |
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207 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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208 tainting | |
v.使变质( taint的现在分词 );使污染;败坏;被污染,腐坏,败坏 | |
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209 microscopic | |
adj.微小的,细微的,极小的,显微的 | |
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210 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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211 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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212 membranes | |
n.(动物或植物体内的)薄膜( membrane的名词复数 );隔膜;(可起防水、防风等作用的)膜状物 | |
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213 maples | |
槭树,枫树( maple的名词复数 ); 槭木 | |
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214 maple | |
n.槭树,枫树,槭木 | |
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215 maze | |
n.迷宫,八阵图,混乱,迷惑 | |
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216 arteries | |
n.动脉( artery的名词复数 );干线,要道 | |
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217 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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218 patchwork | |
n.混杂物;拼缝物 | |
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219 clattering | |
发出咔哒声(clatter的现在分词形式) | |
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220 spurts | |
短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 ); 突然奋起 | |
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221 orphans | |
孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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222 intensified | |
v.(使)增强, (使)加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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223 dwindle | |
v.逐渐变小(或减少) | |
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224 wrestle | |
vi.摔跤,角力;搏斗;全力对付 | |
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225 mattress | |
n.床垫,床褥 | |
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226 aggrieved | |
adj.愤愤不平的,受委屈的;悲痛的;(在合法权利方面)受侵害的v.令委屈,令苦恼,侵害( aggrieve的过去式);令委屈,令苦恼,侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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227 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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228 gallop | |
v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔;飞速发展 | |
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229 sparse | |
adj.稀疏的,稀稀落落的,薄的 | |
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230 specks | |
n.眼镜;斑点,微粒,污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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231 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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232 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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233 elastic | |
n.橡皮圈,松紧带;adj.有弹性的;灵活的 | |
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234 furry | |
adj.毛皮的;似毛皮的;毛皮制的 | |
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235 obsolete | |
adj.已废弃的,过时的 | |
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236 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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237 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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238 mesh | |
n.网孔,网丝,陷阱;vt.以网捕捉,啮合,匹配;vi.适合; [计算机]网络 | |
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239 fervor | |
n.热诚;热心;炽热 | |
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240 adjustable | |
adj.可调整的,可校准的 | |
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241 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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242 garnished | |
v.给(上餐桌的食物)加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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243 chatters | |
(人)喋喋不休( chatter的第三人称单数 ); 唠叨; (牙齿)打战; (机器)震颤 | |
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244 bawled | |
v.大叫,大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 );放声大哭;大声叫出;叫卖(货物) | |
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245 fermenting | |
v.(使)发酵( ferment的现在分词 );(使)激动;骚动;骚扰 | |
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246 liens | |
n.留置权,扣押权( lien的名词复数 ) | |
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247 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
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248 flustered | |
adj.慌张的;激动不安的v.使慌乱,使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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249 haze | |
n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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250 cuffs | |
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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251 freckled | |
adj.雀斑;斑点;晒斑;(使)生雀斑v.雀斑,斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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252 faceted | |
adj. 有小面的,分成块面的 | |
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253 fixture | |
n.固定设备;预定日期;比赛时间;定期存款 | |
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254 maneuvering | |
v.移动,用策略( maneuver的现在分词 );操纵 | |
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255 flattens | |
变平,使(某物)变平( flatten的第三人称单数 ); 彻底打败某人,使丢脸; 停止增长(或上升); (把身体或身体部位)紧贴… | |
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256 jumble | |
vt.使混乱,混杂;n.混乱;杂乱的一堆 | |
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257 sheathing | |
n.覆盖物,罩子v.将(刀、剑等)插入鞘( sheathe的现在分词 );包,覆盖 | |
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258 waterproof | |
n.防水材料;adj.防水的;v.使...能防水 | |
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259 zigzags | |
n.锯齿形的线条、小径等( zigzag的名词复数 )v.弯弯曲曲地走路,曲折地前进( zigzag的第三人称单数 ) | |
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260 zigzagging | |
v.弯弯曲曲地走路,曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 );盘陀 | |
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261 creases | |
(使…)起折痕,弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 ); (皮肤)皱起,使起皱纹 | |
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262 bandanna | |
n.大手帕 | |
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263 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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264 advisers | |
顾问,劝告者( adviser的名词复数 ); (指导大学新生学科问题等的)指导教授 | |
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265 devious | |
adj.不坦率的,狡猾的;迂回的,曲折的 | |
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266 racing | |
n.竞赛,赛马;adj.竞赛用的,赛马用的 | |
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267 jeopardy | |
n.危险;危难 | |
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268 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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269 premature | |
adj.比预期时间早的;不成熟的,仓促的 | |
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270 commentator | |
n.注释者,解说者;实况广播评论员 | |
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271 decency | |
n.体面,得体,合宜,正派,庄重 | |
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272 ogling | |
v.(向…)抛媚眼,送秋波( ogle的现在分词 ) | |
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273 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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274 marvelling | |
v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的现在分词 ) | |
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275 projections | |
预测( projection的名词复数 ); 投影; 投掷; 突起物 | |
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276 propped | |
支撑,支持,维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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277 flickering | |
adj.闪烁的,摇曳的,一闪一闪的 | |
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278 squats | |
n.蹲坐,蹲姿( squat的名词复数 );被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 );非法擅自占用(土地或房屋);为获得其所有权;而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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279 beet | |
n.甜菜;甜菜根 | |
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280 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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281 detailed | |
adj.详细的,详尽的,极注意细节的,完全的 | |
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282 weirdness | |
n.古怪,离奇,不可思议 | |
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283 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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284 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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285 fauna | |
n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物,动物区系 | |
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286 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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287 lathered | |
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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288 hummingbird | |
n.蜂鸟 | |
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289 relentless | |
adj.残酷的,不留情的,无怜悯心的 | |
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290 gliding | |
v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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291 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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292 exuded | |
v.缓慢流出,渗出,分泌出( exude的过去式和过去分词 );流露出对(某物)的神态或感情 | |
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293 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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294 foresight | |
n.先见之明,深谋远虑 | |
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295 enveloping | |
v.包围,笼罩,包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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296 leakage | |
n.漏,泄漏;泄漏物;漏出量 | |
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297 eventual | |
adj.最后的,结局的,最终的 | |
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298 droplets | |
n.小滴( droplet的名词复数 ) | |
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299 prick | |
v.刺伤,刺痛,刺孔;n.刺伤,刺痛 | |
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300 pebble | |
n.卵石,小圆石 | |
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301 blurred | |
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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302 oblivious | |
adj.易忘的,遗忘的,忘却的,健忘的 | |
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303 subsided | |
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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304 halfway | |
adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途 | |
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305 streaks | |
n.(与周围有所不同的)条纹( streak的名词复数 );(通常指不好的)特征(倾向);(不断经历成功或失败的)一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 );使布满条纹 | |
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306 molecules | |
分子( molecule的名词复数 ) | |
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307 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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308 twitched | |
vt.& vi.(使)抽动,(使)颤动(twitch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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309 jigsaw | |
n.缕花锯,竖锯,拼图游戏;vt.用竖锯锯,使互相交错搭接 | |
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310 scrolls | |
n.(常用于录写正式文件的)纸卷( scroll的名词复数 );卷轴;涡卷形(装饰);卷形花纹v.(电脑屏幕上)从上到下移动(资料等),卷页( scroll的第三人称单数 );(似卷轴般)卷起;(像展开卷轴般地)将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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311 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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312 smothered | |
(使)窒息, (使)透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 ); 覆盖; 忍住; 抑制 | |
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313 concussion | |
n.脑震荡;震动 | |
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314 ebbing | |
(指潮水)退( ebb的现在分词 ); 落; 减少; 衰落 | |
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315 isolation | |
n.隔离,孤立,分解,分离 | |
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316 milky | |
adj.牛奶的,多奶的;乳白色的 | |
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317 exasperated | |
adj.恼怒的 | |
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318 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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319 flare | |
v.闪耀,闪烁;n.潮红;突发 | |
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320 lipstick | |
n.口红,唇膏 | |
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321 exhales | |
v.呼出,发散出( exhale的第三人称单数 );吐出(肺中的空气、烟等),呼气 | |
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322 hovering | |
鸟( hover的现在分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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323 lotions | |
n.洗液,洗剂,护肤液( lotion的名词复数 ) | |
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324 inhales | |
v.吸入( inhale的第三人称单数 ) | |
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325 reassurance | |
n.使放心,使消除疑虑 | |
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326 intake | |
n.吸入,纳入;进气口,入口 | |
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327 whine | |
v.哀号,号哭;n.哀鸣 | |
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328 whining | |
n. 抱怨,牢骚 v. 哭诉,发牢骚 | |
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329 immature | |
adj.未成熟的,发育未全的,未充分发展的 | |
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330 dependence | |
n.依靠,依赖;信任,信赖;隶属 | |
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331 flips | |
轻弹( flip的第三人称单数 ); 按(开关); 快速翻转; 急挥 | |
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332 haggle | |
vi.讨价还价,争论不休 | |
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333 sobbing | |
<主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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334 queasy | |
adj.易呕的 | |
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335 huddles | |
(尤指杂乱地)挤在一起的人(或物品、建筑)( huddle的名词复数 ); (美式足球)队员靠拢(磋商战术) | |
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336 undone | |
a.未做完的,未完成的 | |
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337 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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338 unnaturally | |
adv.违反习俗地;不自然地;勉强地;不近人情地 | |
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339 tingles | |
n.刺痛感( tingle的名词复数 )v.有刺痛感( tingle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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340 knuckled | |
v.(指人)指关节( knuckle的过去式和过去分词 );(指动物)膝关节,踝 | |
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341 sprouted | |
v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 );抽芽;出现;(使)涌现出 | |
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342 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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343 watchful | |
adj.注意的,警惕的 | |
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344 hipped | |
adj.着迷的,忧郁的 | |
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