Next day, Friday, the papers and television are full of the colored riots in York, snipers wounding innocent firemen, simple men on the street, what is the world coming to? The astronauts are nearing the moon's gravitational influence. A quick thunderstorm makes up in the late afternoon over Brewer1, pelts2 shoppers and homebound workmen into the entranceways of shops, soaks Harry3's white shirt before he and his father get to huddle4 in the Phoenix5 Bar. "We missed you last night," Earl Angstrom says.
"Pop, I told you we couldn't make it, we took the kid out to eat and then to a movie."
"O.K., don't bite my head off: I thought you left it more up in the air than that, but never mind, don't kill a man for trying."
"I said we might, was all. Did she act disappointed?"
"She didn't let on. Your mother's nature isn't to let on, you know that. She knows you have your problems."
"What problems?"
"How was the movie, Harry?"
"The kid liked it, I don't know, it didn't make much sense to me, but then I felt kind of sick on something I ate. I fell dead asleep soon as we got home."
"How did Janice like it? Did she seem to have a good time?"
"Hell, I don't know. At her age, are you supposed to have a good time?"
"I hope the other day I didn't seem to be poking6 my nose in where it doesn't belong."
"A little bit. Now Mother, I tell her, now Mother, Harry's a big boy, Harry's a responsible citizen."
"Yeah," Rabbit admits, "maybe that's my problem," and shivers. With his shirt wet, it is cruelly cold in here. He signals for another Daiquiri. The television, sound off, is showing film clips of cops in York stalking the streets in threes and fours, then cuts to a patrol in Vietnam, boys smudged with fear and fatigue8, and Harry feels badly, that he isn't there with them. Then the television moves on to the big publicity9?mad Norwegian who gave up trying to cross the Atlantic in a paper boat. Even if the TV sound were turned higher what he's saying would be drowned by the noise in the bar: the excitement of the thunderstorm plus its being Friday night.
"Think you could make it over this evening?" his father asks. "It doesn't have to be for long, just fifteen minutes or so. It would mean the world to her, with Mim as good as dead, hardly ever even writing a postcard."
"I'll talk to her about it," Harry says, meaning Janice, though he thinks of Mim whoring around on the West Coast, Mim that he used to take sledding on Jackson Road, snowflakes on her hood10. He pictures her at parties, waiting with a face of wax, or lying beside a swimming pool freshly oiled while under the umbrella beside her some suety gangster11 with a cigar in the center of his face like a secondary prick12 pulls it from his mouth and snarls13. "But don't get her hopes up," he adds, meaning his mother. "We're sure to be over Sunday. I got to run."
The storm has passed. Sun pours through the torn sky, drying the pavement rapidly. Maplike stains: a pulped14 Kleenex retains an island ofwet around it. Overweight bag?luggers and skinny Negro idlers emerge smiling from the shelter of a disused shoe store's entrance. The defaced BUS STOP sign, the wrappers spilled from the KEEP BREWER CLEAN can with its top like a flying saucer, the dimpled and rutted asphalt all glory, glistening15, in the deluge16 having passed. The scattered17 handkerchiefs and horsetails of inky storm?cloud drift east across the ridge18 of Mt. Judge and the sky resumes the hazed19, engendering20, blank look of Pennsylvania humidity. And nervousness, that seeks to condense into anger, regathers in Rabbit.
Janice is not home when he arrives. Neither is Nelson. Coming up the walk he sees that, freshened by rain, their lawn looks greasy21 with crabgrass, spiky22 with plantain. The kid supposedly gets his dollar?fifty allowance in part for keeping it mowed23 but he hasn't since June. The little power mower24, that had belonged to the Springers until they got one of those you ride, leans in the garage, a can of 3?in?1 beside one wheel. He oils it and sloshes in the gasoline ?amber25 in the can, colorless in the funnel26 ? and starts it up on the fourth pull. Its swath spits gummy hunks of wet grass, back and forth27 across the two square patches that form their front lawn. There is a larger lawn behind, where the clothes tree stands and where Nelson and he sometimes play catch with a softball worn down to its strings28. It needs mowing29 too, but he wants Janice to find him out front, to give her a little guilty start to get them going.
But by the time she comes home, swinging down Vista31 spraying untarred grit32 and tucking the Falcon33 into the garage in that infuriating way of hers, just not quite far enough to close the door on the bumper34, the blades of grass are mixing long shadows with their cut tips and Rabbit stands by their one tree, a spindly maple35 tethered to the earth by guy wires, his palm sore from trimming the length of the walk with the hand?clippers.
"Harry," she says, "you're outdoors! How funny of you."
Arid36 it is true, Park Villas37 with its vaunted quarter?acre lots and compulsory38 barbecue chimneys does not tempt39 its residents outdoors, even the children in summer: in the snug40 brick neighborhood of Rabbit's childhood you were always outdoors, hiding in hollowed?out bushes, scuffling in the gravel41 alleys42, secure in the closeness of windows from at least one of which an adult was always watching. Here, there is a prairie sadness, a barren sky raked by slender aerials. A sky poisoned by radio waves. A sewer43 smell from underground.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"Work, obviously. Daddy always used to say never to cut grass after rain, it's all lying down."
" `Work, obviously.' What's obvious about it?"
"Harry, you're so strange. Daddy came back from the Poconos today and made me stay after six with Mildred's mess."
"I thought he came back from the Poconos days ago. You lied. Why?"
Janice crosses the cut grass and they stand together, he and she and the tree, the spindly planted maple that cannot grow, as if bewildered by the wide raw light. The kerosene44 scent45 of someone else's Friday evening barbecue drifts to them. Their neighbors in Penn Villas are strangers, transients ? accountants, salesmen, supervisors46, adjusters ? people whose lives to them are passing cars and the shouts of unseen children. Janice's color heightens. Her body takes on a defiant47 suppleness48. "I forget, it was a silly lie, you were just so angry over the phone I had to say something. It seemed the easiest thing to say, that Daddy was there; you know how I am. You know how confused I get."
"How much other lying do you do to me?"
"None. That I can remember right now. Maybe little things, how much things cost, the sort of things women lie about. Women like to lie, Harry, it makes things more fun." And, flirtatious49, unlike her, she flicks50 her tongue against her upper lip and holds it there, like the spring of a trap.
She steps toward the young tree and touches it where it is taped so the guy wires won't cut into the bark. He asks her, "Where's Nelson?"
"I arranged with Peggy for him to spend the night with Billy, since it's not a school night."
"With those dopes again. They give him ideas."
"At his age he's going to have ideas anyway."
"I half?promised Pop we'd go over tonight and visit Mom."
"I don't see why we should visit her. She's never liked me, she's done nothing but try to poison our marriage."
"Another question."
"Yes?"
"Are you fucking Stavros?"
"I thought women only got fucked."
Janice turns and choppily runs into the house, up the three steps, into the house with apple?green aluminum51 clapboards. Rabbit puts the mower back in the garage and enters by the side door into the kitchen. She is there, slamming pots around, making their dinner. He asks her, "Shall we go out to eat for a change? I know a nifty little Greek restaurant on Quince Street."
"That was just coincidence he showed up. I admit it was Charlie who recommended it, is there anything wrong with that? And you were certainly rude to him. You were incredible."
"I wasn't rude, we had a political discussion. I like Charlie. He's an O.K. guy, for a left?wing mealy?mouthed wop."
"You are really very strange lately, Harry. I think your mother's sickness is getting to you."
"In the restaurant, you seemed to know your way around the menu. Sure he doesn't take you there for lunch? Or on some of those late?work nights? You been working a lot of nights, and don't seem to get much done."
"You know nothing about what has to be done."
"I know your old man and Mildred Kroust used to do it themselves without all this overtime52."
"Having the Toyota franchise53 is a whole new dimension. It's endless bills of lading, import taxes, customs forms." More fending54 words occur to Janice; it is like when she was little, making snow dams in the gutter55. "Anyway, Charlie has lots of girls, he can have girls any time, single girls younger than me. They all go to bed now without even being asked, everybody's on the Pill, they just assume it." One sentence too many.
"How do you know?"
"He tells me."
"So you are chummy."
"Not very. Just now and then, when he's hung or needing a little mothering or something."
"Right ? maybe he's scared of these hot young tits, maybe he likes older women, mamma mia and all that. These slick Mediterranean56 types need a lot of mothering."
It's fascinating to her, to see him circling in; she fights the rising in her of a wifely wish to collaborate57, to help him find the truth that sits so large in her own mind she can hardly choose the words that go around it.
"Anyway," he goes on, "those girls aren't the boss's daughter."
Yes, that is what he'd think, it was what she thought those first times, those first pats as she was standing58 tangled59 in a net of numbers she didn't understand, those first sandwich lunches they would arrange when Daddy was out on the lot, those first fiveo'clock whisky sours in the Atlas60 Bar down the street, those first kisses in the car, always a different car, one they had borrowed from the lot, with a smell of new car like a protective skin their touches were burning through. That was what she thought until he convinced her it was her, funny old clumsy her, Janice Angstrom née Springer; it was her flesh being licked like ice cream, her time being stolen in moments compressed as diamonds, her nerves caught up in an exchange of pleasure that oscillated between them in tightening61 swift circles until it seemed a kind of frenzied62 sleep, a hypnosis so intense that later in her own bed she could not sleep at all, as if she had napped that afternoon. His apartment, they discovered, was only twelve minutes distant, if you drove the back way, by the old farmers' market that was now just a set of empty tin?roofed sheds.
"What good would my being the boss's daughter do him?"
"It'd make him feel he was climbing. All these Greeks or Polacks or whatever are on the make."
"I'd never realized, Harry, how full of racial prejudice you are."
"Yes or no about you and Stavros."
"No." But lying she felt, as when a child watching the snow dams melt, that the truth must push through, it was too big, too constant: though she was terrified and would scream, it was something she must have, her confession63 like a baby. She felt so proud.
"You dumb bitch," he says. He hits her not in the face but on the shoulder, like a man trying to knock open a stuck door.
She hits him back, clumsily, on the side of the neck, as high as she can reach. Harry feels a flash of pleasure: sunlight in a tunnel. He hits her three, four, five times, unable to stop, boring his way to that sunlight, not as hard as he can hit, but hard enough for her to whimper; she doubles over so that his last punches are thrown hammerwise down into her neck and back, an angle he doesn't see her from that much ? the chalk?white parting, the candlewhite nape, the bra strap64 showing through the fabric65 of the back of the blouse. Her sobbing66 arises muffled67 and, astonished by a beauty in her abasement68, by a face that shines through her reduction to this craven faceless posture69, he pauses. Janice senses that he will not hit her anymore. She abandons her huddle, flops70 over to her side, and lets herself cry out loud ? high?pitched, a startled noise pinched between sieges of windy gasping71. Her face is red, wrinkled, newborn; in curiosity he drops to his knees to examine her. Her black eyes flash at this and she spits up at his face, but misjudges; the saliva72 falls back into her own face. For him there is only the faintest kiss of spray. Flecked with her own spit Janice cries, "I do, I do sleep with Charlie!"
"Ah, shit," Rabbit says softly, "of course you do," and bows his' head into her chest, to protect himself from her scratching, while he half?pummels her sides, half?tries to embrace her and lift her.
"I love him. Damn you, Harry. We make love all the time."
"Good," he moans, mourning the receding73 of that light, that ecstasy74 of his hitting her, of knocking her open. Now she will become again a cripple he must take care of. "Good for you."
"It's been going on for months," she insists, writhing75 and trying to get free to spit again, furious at his response. He pins her arms, which would claw, at her sides and squeezes her hard. She stares into his face. Her face is wild, still, frozen. She is seeking what will hurt him most. "I do things for him," she says, "I never do for you."
"Sure you do," he murmurs76, wanting to have a hand free to stroke her forehead, to re?enclose her. He sees the gloss77 of her forehead and the gloss of the kitchen linoleum78. Her hair wriggles79 outward into the spilled wriggles of the marbled linoleum pattern, worn where she stands at the sink. A faint rotten smell here, of the sluggish80 sink tie?in. Janice abandons herself to crying and limp relief, and he has no trouble lifting her and carrying her in to the living?room sofa. He has zombie?strength: his shins shiver, his palm sore from the clipper handles is a stiff crescent.
She sinks lost into the sofa's breadth.
He prompts her, "He makes better love than me," to keep her confession flowing, as a physician moistens a boil.
She bites her tongue, trying to think, surveying her ruins with an eye toward salvage81. Impure82 desires ? to save her skin, to be kind, to be exact ? pollute her primary fear and anger. "He's different," she says. "I'm more exciting to him than to you. I'm sure it's just mostly our not being married."
"Where do you do it?"
Worlds whirl past and cloud her eyes ? car seats, rugs, tree undersides seen through windshields, the beigy?gray carpeting in the narrow space between the three green steel desks and the safe and the Toyota cutout, motel rooms with their cardboard panelling and scratchy bedspreads, his dour83 bachelor's apartment stuffed with heavy furniture and tinted84 relatives in silver frames. "Different places."
"Do you want to marry him?"
"No. No." Why does she say this? The possibility opens an abyss. She would not have known this. A gate she had always assumed gave onto a garden gave onto emptiness. She tries to drag Harry down closer to her; she is lying on the sofa, one shoe off, her bruises85 just beginning to smart, while he kneels on the carpet, having carried her here. He remains86 stiff when she pulls at him, he is dead, she has killed him.
He asks, "Was I so lousy to you?"
"Oh sweetie, no. You were good to me. You came back. You work in that dirty place. I don't know what got into me, Harry, I honestly don't."
"Whatever it was," he tells her, "it must be still there." He looks like Nelson, saying this, a mulling discontented hurt look, ?puzzling to pry87 something open, to get something out. She sees she will have to make love to him. A conflicted tide moves within her ? desire for this pale and hairless stranger, abhorrence88 of this desire, fascination89 with the levels of betrayal possible.
He shies, afraid of failing her; he falls back from the sofa and sits on the floor and offers to talk, to strike a balance. "Do you remember Ruth?"
"The whore you lived with when you ran away."
"She wasn't a whore exactly."
"Whatever she was, what about her?"
"A couple of years ago, I saw her again."
"Did you sleep with her?"
"Oh God no. She had become very straight. That was the thing. We met on Weiser Street, she was shopping. She had put on so much weight I didn't recognize her, I think she recognized me first, something about the way this woman looked at me; and then it hit me. Ruth. She still had this great head of hair. By then she had gone by, I followed her for a while and then she ducked into Kroll's. I gave it an even chance, I waited there at the side entrance figuring if she came out of that one I'd say hello and if she went out one of the others, O.K. I gave it five minutes. I really wasn't that interested." But in saying this, his heart beats faster, as it had beat then. `Just as I was going away she came out lugging90 two shopping bags and looked at me and the first thing she said was, `Let me alone.' "
"She loved you," Janice explains.
"She did and she didn't," he says, and loses her sympathy with this complacence. "I offered to buy her a drink but all she'd let me do is walk her up toward the parking lot where the old Acme91 used to be. She lived out toward Galilee, she told me. Her husband was a chicken farmer and ran a string of school buses, I got the impression he was some guy older than she was, who'd had a family before. She told me they had three children, a girl and two boys. She showed me their pictures in a wallet. I asked how often she got into town and she said, `As far as you're concerned, never.' "
"Poor Harry," Janice says. "She sounds awful."
"Well, she was, but still. She'd gotten heavy, as I said, she was sort of lost inside this other person who pretty much blended in with those other fat bag?luggers you see downtown, but at the same time, still, it was her."
"All right. You still love her," Janice says.
"No, I didn't, I don't. You haven't heard the worse thing she did then."
"I can't believe you never tried to get in touch with her after you came back to me. At least to see what she did about her . . . pregnancy92."
"I felt I shouldn't." But he sees now, in his wife's dark and judg-ing eyes, that the rules were more complicated, that there were some rules by which he should have. There were rules beneath the surface rules that also mattered. She should have explained this when she took him back.
She asks, "What was the worse thing?"
"I don't know if I should tell you."
"Tell me. Let's tell each other everything, then we'll take off all our clothes." She sounds tired. The shock of having given it all away must be sinking in. He talks to distract, as we joke with a loser at poker93.
"You already said it. About the baby. I thought of that and asked her how old the girl was, her oldest child. She wouldn't tell me. I asked to see the wallet pictures again, to see if there was, you know, a resemblance. She wouldn't show them to me. She laughed at me. She was really quite nasty. She said something very strange."
"What?"
"I forget exactly. She looked me over and said I'd gotten fat. This from her. Then she said, `Run along, Rabbit. You've had your day in the cabbage patch.' Or something like that. Nobody ever calls me Rabbit, was what sort of got me. This was two years ago. I think in the fall. I haven't seen her since."
"Tell me the truth now. These ten years, haven't you had any other women?"
He runs his mind backward, encounters a few dark places, a room in a Polish?American Club where Verity94 was having its annual blast, a skinny flat?chested girl with a cold, she had kept her bra and sweater on; and then a weird95 episode at the Jersey96 shore, Janice and Nelson off at the amusement park, him back from the beach in his trunks, a knock at the door of the cabin, a chunky colored girl, two skinny boys escorting her, offering herself for five or seven dollars, depending what he wanted done. He had had trouble understanding her accent, had made her repeat ?with downcast eyes, as the boys with her sniggered? "screwin'," "suck?off." Frightened, he had quickly shut the flimsy door on them, locked it as if they had threatened to harm him, and jerked off facing the wall; the wall smelled of damp and salt. He tells Janice, "You know, ever since that happened to Becky, I haven't been that much for sex. It comes on, wanting it, and then some-thing turns it of"
"Let me up."
Janice stands in front of the television set, the screen green ashes, a dead fire. Efficiently97 she undresses herself. Her dark?tipped breasts droop98 tubular and sway as she disengages her pantyhose. Her tan stops below her throat. Other summers they used to go to the West Brewer pool some Sundays but the kid became too big to go with his parents so none go now. They haven't gone to the Shore since the Springers discovered the Poconos. Buggy brown lakes imprisoned99 among dark green trees: Rabbit hates it there and never goes, never goes anywhere, takes his vacation around the house. He used to daydream100 about going South, Florida or Alabama, to see the cotton fields and the alligators101, but that was a boy's dream and died with the baby. He once saw Texas and that has to be enough. Tongue pinched between her lips, naked Janice unbuttons his shirt, fumbling102. Numbly103 he takes over, completes the job. The pants, the shoes last. Socks. Air knows him, air of day still lingering, summer air tingling104 along the skin that never knows the light. He and Janice have not made love in the light for years. She asks him in the middle of it, "Don't you love seeing? I used to be so embarrassed."
In twilight105 they eat, still naked, salami sandwiches she makes, and drink whisky. Their house stays dark, though the others around them, that mirror it, turn on their lights. These neighboring lights, and the cars that pass along Vista Crescent, throw sliding soft witnesses into their room: the open shelves lunge like parallel swords, the driftwood lamp throws a rhinoceros106?shadow, the school portrait of Nelson, in its cardboard frame on the mantel, from beneath the embalming107 tints108 ofits color wash, smiles. To help them see when darkness comes, Janice turns on the television set without sound, and by the bluish flicker109 of module110 models pantomiming flight, of riot troops standing before smashed supermarkets, of a rowboat landing in Florida having crossed the Atlantic, of situation comedies and western melodramas111, of great gray momentary112 faces unstable113 as quicksilver, they make love again, her body a stretch of powdery sand, her mouth a loose black hole, her eyes holes with sparks in them, his own body a barren landscape lit by bombardment, silently exploding images no gentler than Janice's playful expert touches, that pass through him and do him no harm. She inverts114 herself and pours out upon him the months of her new knowledge; her appetite frightens him, knowing he cannot fill it, any more than Earth's appetite for death can be satisfied. Her guilt30 became love; her love becomes rage. The first time was too quick but the second was sweet, with work and sweat in it, and the third time strainingly sweet, a work of the spirit almost purely115, and the fourth time, because there was no fourth time, sad; straddling his thighs116, her cunt revealed by the flickering117 touch of the television to be lopsidedly agape, she bows her head, her hair tickling118 his belly119, and drops cold tears, starpricks, upon the slack flesh that has failed her.
"Jesus," he says, "I forgot. We were supposed to go over to Mom's tonight!"
收听单词发音 |
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brewer
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| n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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pelts
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| n. 皮毛，投掷, 疾行 vt. 剥去皮毛，（连续）投掷 vi. 猛击，大步走 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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poking
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| 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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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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gangster
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| n.匪徒，歹徒，暴徒 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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snarls
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| n.（动物的）龇牙低吼( snarl的名词复数 )；愤怒叫嚷（声）；咆哮（声）；疼痛叫声v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的第三人称单数 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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pulped
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| 水果的肉质部分( pulp的过去式和过去分词 )； 果肉； 纸浆； 低级书刊 | |
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glistening
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deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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scattered
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ridge
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hazed
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engendering
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greasy
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spiky
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mowed
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| v.刈，割( mow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mower
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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forth
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strings
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mowing
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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32
grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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33
falcon
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| n.隼，猎鹰 | |
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34
bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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35
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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36
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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37
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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38
compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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39
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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40
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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41
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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42
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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43
sewer
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| n.排水沟，下水道 | |
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44
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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45
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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46
supervisors
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| n.监督者，管理者( supervisor的名词复数 ) | |
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47
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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48
suppleness
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| 柔软； 灵活； 易弯曲； 顺从 | |
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49
flirtatious
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| adj.爱调情的，调情的，卖俏的 | |
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50
flicks
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的第三人称单数 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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51
aluminum
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| n.(aluminium)铝 | |
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52
overtime
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| adj.超时的，加班的；adv.加班地 | |
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53
franchise
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| n.特许，特权，专营权，特许权 | |
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54
fending
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的现在分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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55
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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56
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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57
collaborate
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| vi.协作，合作；协调 | |
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58
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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59
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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60
atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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61
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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62
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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63
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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64
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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65
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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66
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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67
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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68
abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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69
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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70
flops
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| n.失败( flop的名词复数 )v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的第三人称单数 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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71
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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saliva
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| n.唾液，口水 | |
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73
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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74
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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75
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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76
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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77
gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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78
linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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79
wriggles
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| n.蠕动，扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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80
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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81
salvage
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| v.救助，营救，援救；n.救助，营救 | |
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82
impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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83
dour
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| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
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84
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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85
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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86
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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87
pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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88
abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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89
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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90
lugging
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| 超载运转能力 | |
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91
acme
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| n.顶点，极点 | |
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92
pregnancy
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| n.怀孕，怀孕期 | |
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93
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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94
verity
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| n.真实性 | |
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95
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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96
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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97
efficiently
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| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
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98
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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99
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
daydream
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| v.做白日梦，幻想 | |
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101
alligators
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| n.短吻鳄( alligator的名词复数 ) | |
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102
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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103
numbly
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| adv.失去知觉，麻木 | |
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104
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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105
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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106
rhinoceros
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| n.犀牛 | |
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107
embalming
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| v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的现在分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
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108
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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109
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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110
module
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| n.组件，模块，模件；(航天器的)舱 | |
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111
melodramas
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| 情节剧( melodrama的名词复数 ) | |
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112
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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113
unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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114
inverts
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| v.使倒置，使反转( invert的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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116
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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117
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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118
tickling
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| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
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119
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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