? NEIL ARMSTRONG, July 20, 1969
DAYS, pale slices between nights, they blend, not exactly alike, transparencies so lightly tinted2 that only stacked all together do they darken to a fatal shade. One Saturday in August Buchanan approaches Rabbit during the coffee break. They are part of the half?crew working the half?day; hence perhaps this intimacy3. The Negro wipes from his lips the moisture of the morning whisky enjoyed outside in the sunshine of the loading platform, and asks, "How're they treatin' you, Harry4?"
"They?" Harry has known the other man by sight and name for years but still is not quite easy, talking to a black; there always seems to be some joke involved, that he doesn't quite get.
"The world, man."
"Not bad."
Buchanan stands there blinking, studying, jiggling up and down on his feet engagingly. Hard to tell how old they are. He might be thirty?five, he might be sixty. On his upper lip he wears the smallest possible black mustache, smaller than a type brush. His color is ashy, without any shine to it, whereas the other shop Negro, Farnsworth, looks shoe?polished and twinkles among the printing machinery7, under the steady shadowless light. "But not good, huh?"
"I'm not sleeping so good," Rabbit does confess. He has an itch9, these days, to confess, to spill, he is so much alone.
"Your old lady still shackin' up across town?"
Everybody knows. Niggers, coolies, derelicts, morons10. Numbers writers, bus conductors, beauty shop operators, the entire brick city of Brewer11. VERITY12 EMPLOYEE NAMED CUCKOLD OF WEEK. Angstrom Accepts Official Hornsfrom Mayor. "I'm living alone," Harry admits, adding, "with the kid."
"How about that," Buchanan says, lightly rocking. "How about that?"
Rabbit says weakly, "Until things straighten out."
"Gettin' any tail?"
Harry must look startled, for Buchanan hastens to explain, "Man has to have tail. Where's your dad these days?" The ques-tion flows from the assertion immediately, though it doesn't seem to follow.
Rabbit says, puzzled, offended, but because Buchanan is a Negro not knowing how to evade15 him, "He's taking two weeks off so he can drive my mother back and forth16 to the hospital for some tests."
"Years." Buchanan mulls, the two pushed?out cushions of his mouth appearing to commune with each other through a hum; then a new thought darts18 out through them, making his mustache jig5. "Your dad is a real pal1 to you, that's a wonderful thing. That is a truly wonderful thing. I never had a dad like that, I knew who the man was, he was around town, but he was never my dad in the sense your dad is your dad. He was never my pal like that."
Harry hangs uncertainly, not knowing if he should commiser-ate or laugh. "Well," he decides to confess, "he's sort of a pal, and sort of a pain in the neck."
Buchanan likes the remark, even though he goes through pep-pery motions of rejecting it. "Oh, never say that now. You just be grateful you have a dad that cares. You don't know, man, how lucky you have it. Just 'cause your wife's gettin' her ass14 looked after elsewhere don't mean the whole world is come to some bad end. You should be havin' your tail, is all. You're a big fella. "
Distaste and excitement contend in Harry; he feels tall and pale beside Buchanan, and feminine, a tingling20 target of fun and ten-derness and avarice21 mixed. Talking to Negroes makes him feel itchy, up behind the eyeballs, maybe because theirs look so semi-liquid and yellow in the white and sore. Their whole beings seem lubricated in pain. "I'll manage," he says reluctantly, thinking of Peggy Fosnacht.
The end?of?break bell rings. Buchanan snaps his shoulders into a hunch23 and out of it as if rendering24 a verdict. "How about it, Harry, steppin' out with some of the boys tonight," he says. "Come on into Jimbo's Lounge around nine, ten, see what dev-elops. Maybe nothin'. Maybe sumpthin'. You're just turnin' old, the way you're goin' now. Old and fat and finicky, and that's no way for a nice big man to go." He sees that Rabbit's instincts are to refuse; he holds up a quick palm the color of silver polish and says, "Think about it. I like you, man. If you don't show, you don't show. No sweat."
All Saturday the invitation hums in his ears. Something in what Buchanan said. He was lying down to die, had been lying down 'for years. His body had been telling him to. His eyes blur25 print in the afternoons, no urge to run walking even that stretch of tempt-ing curved sidewalk home, has to fight sleep before supper and then can't get under at night, can't even get it up to jerk off to relax himself. Awake with the first light every morning regardless, another day scraping his eyes. Without going much of anywhere in his life he has somehow seen everything too often. Trees, weather, the molding trim drying its cracks wider around the front door, he notices every day going out, house made of green wood. No belief in an afterlife, no hope for it, too much more ofthe same thing, already it seems he's lived twice. When he came back to Janice that began the second time for him; poor kid is having her first time now. Bless that dope. At least she had the drive to get out. Women, fire in their crotch, won't burn out, begin by fight-ing off pricks27, end by going wild hunting for one that still works.
Once last week he called the lot to find out if she and Stavros were reporting for work or just screwing around the clock. Mildred Kroust answered, she put him on to Janice, who whis-pered, "Harry, Daddy doesn't know about us, don't ever call me here, I'll call you back." And she had called him late that after-noon, at the house, Nelson in the other room watching Gilligan's Island, and said cool as you please, he hardly knew her voice, "Harry, I'm sorry for whatever pain this is causing you, truly sorry, but it's very important that at this point in our lives we don't let guilt28 feelings motivate us. I'm trying to look honestly into myself, to see who I am, and where I should be going. I want us both, Harry, to come to a decision we can live with. It's the year nine-teen sixty?nine and there's no reason for two mature people to smother30 each other to death simply out of inertia31. I'm searching for a valid32 identity and I suggest you do the same." After some more of this, she hung up. Her vocabulary had expanded, maybe she was watching a lot of psychiatric talk shows. The sinners shall be justified33. Screw her. Dear Lord, screw her. He is thinking this on the bus.
He thinks, Screw her, and at home has a beer and takes a bath and puts on his good summer suit, a light gray sharkskin, and gets Nelson's pajamas34 out of the dryer35 and his toothbrush out of the bathroom. The kid and Billy have arranged for him to spend the night. Harry calls up Peggy to check it out. "Oh absolutely," she says, "I'm not going anywhere, why don't you stay and have dinner?"
"I can't I don't think."
"Why not? Something else to do?"
"Sort of." He and the kid go over around six, on an empty bus. Already at this hour Weiser has that weekend up?tempo36, cars hurrying faster home to get out again, a very fat man with orange hair standing37 under an awning38 savoring39 a cigar as if angels will shortly descend40, an expectant shimmer41 on the shut storefronts, girls clicking along with heads big as rose?bushes, curlers wrapped in a kerchief. Saturday night. Peggy meets him at the door with an offer of a drink. She and Billy live in an apartment in one of the new eight?story buildings in West Brewer overlooking the river, where there used to be a harness racetrack. From her living room she has a panorama42 of Brewer, the concrete eagle on the skyscraper43 Court House flaring45 his wings above the back of the Owl8 Pretzels sign. Beyond the flowerpot?red city Mt. Judge hangs smoky?green, one side gashed46 by a gravel47 pit like a roast begin-ning to be carved. The river coal black.
"Maybe just one. I gotta go somewhere."
"You said that. What kind of drink?" She is wearing a clingy palish?purple sort of Paisley mini that shows a lot of heavy leg. One thing Janice always had, was nifty legs. Peggy has a pasty helpless look of white meat behind the knees.
"You have Daiquiri mix?"
"I don't know, Ollie used to keep things like that, but when we moved I think it all stayed with him." She and Ollie Fosnacht had lived in an asbestos?shingled48 semi?detached some blocks away, not far from the county mental hospital. Ollie lives in the city now, near his music store, and she and the kid have this apart-ment, with Ollie in their view if they can find him. She is rum-maging in a low cabinet below some empty bookcases. "I can't see any, it comes in envelopes. How about gin and something?"
"You have bitter lemon?"
More rummaging49. "No, just some tonic50."
"Good enough. Want me to make it?"
"If you like." She stands up, heavy?legged, lightly sweating, relieved. Knowing he was coming, Peggy had decided51 against sunglasses, a sign of trust to leave them off. Her walleyes are naked to him, her face has this helpless look, turned full toward him while both eyes seem fascinated by something in the corners of the ceiling. He knows only one eye is bad but he never can bring him-self to figure out which. And all around her eyes this net of white wrinkles the sunglasses usually conceal55.
He asks her, "What for you?"
"Oh, anything. The same thing. I drink everything."
While he is cracking an ice tray in the tiny kitchenette, the two boys have snuck out of Billy's bedroom. Rabbit wonders if they have been looking at dirty photographs. The kind of pictures kids used to have to pay an old cripple on Plum Street a dollar apiece for you can buy a whole magazine full of now for seventy?five cents, right downtown. The Supreme56 Court, old men letting the roof cave in. Billy is a head taller than Nelson, sunburned where Nelson takes a tan after his mother, both of them with hair down over their ears, the Fosnacht boy's blonder and curlier. "Mom, we want to go downstairs and run the mini?bike on the parking lot."
"Come back up in an hour," Peggy tells them, "I'll give you supper."
"Nelson had a peanut?butter sandwich before we left," Rabbit explains.
"Typical male cooking," Peggy says. "Where're you going this evening anyway, all dressed up in a suit?"
"Nowhere much. I told a guy I might meet him." He doesn't say it is a Negro. He should be asking her out, is his sudden frightened feeling. She is dressed to go out; but not so dolled?up it can't appear she plans to stay home tonight. He hands her her g.?and?t. The best defense58 is to be offensive. "You don't have any mint or limes or anything."
Her plucked eyebrows59 lift. "No, there are lemons in the fridge, is all. I could run down to the grocery for you." Not entirely60 ironical61: using his complaint to weave coziness.
Rabbit laughs to retract62. "Forget it, I'm just used to bars, where they have everything. At home all I ever do is drink beer."
She laughs in answer. She is tense as a schoolteacher facing her first class. To relax them both he sits down in a loose leather armchair that says pfsshhu. "Hey, this is nice," he announces, meaning the vista63, but he spoke64 too early, for from this low chair the view is flung out of sight and becomes all sky: a thin bright wash, stripes like fat in bacon.
"You should hear Ollie complain about the rent." Peggy sits down not in another chair but on the flat grille where the radiator65 breathes beneath the window, opposite and above him, so he sees a lot of her legs ? shiny skin stuffed to the point of shapelessness. Still, she is showing him what she has, right up to the triangle of underpants, which is one more benefit of being alive in 1969. Miniskirts and those magazines: well, hell, we've always known women had crotches, why not make it legal? A guy at the shop brought in a magazine that, honestly, was all cunts, in blurred66 bad four?color but cunts, upside down, backwards67, the girls attached to them rolling their tongues in their mouths and fanning their hands on their bellies68 and otherwise trying to hide how silly they felt. Homely69 things, really, cunts. Without the Supreme Court that might never have been made clear.
"Hey, how is old Ollie?"
Peggy shrugs70. "He calls. Usually to cancel his Sunday with Billy. You know he never was the family man you are."
Rabbit is surprised to be called that. He is getting too tame. He asks her, "How does he spend his time?"
"Oh," Peggy says, and awkwardly turns her body so Rabbit sees pricked72 out in windowlight the tonic bubbles in her drink, which is surprisingly near drunk, "he rattles74 around Brewer with a bunch of creeps. Musicians, mostly. They go to Philadelphia a lot, and New York. Last winter he went skiing at Aspen and told me all about it, including the girls. He came back so brown in the face, I cried for days. I could never get him outdoors, when we had the place over on Franklin Street. How do you spend your time?"
"I work. I mope around the house with the kid. We look at the boob tube and play catch in the back yard."
"Do you mope for her, Harry?" With a clumsy shrug71 of her hip75 the woman moves off her radiator perch76, her walleyes staring to either side of him so he thinks he is her target and flinches77. ?But she floats past him and, clattering79, refills her drink. "Want another?"
"No thanks, I'm still working on this one. I gotta go in a minute."
"So soon," she croons unseen, as if remembering the beginning of a song in her tiny kitchenette. From far below their windows arises the razzing, coughing sound of the boys on the mini?bike. The noise swoops81 and swirls82, a rude buzzard. Beyond it across the river hangs the murmur83 of Brewer traffic, constant like the sea; an occasional car toots, a wink6 of phosphorescence. From the kitchenette, as if she had been baking the thought in the oven, Peggy calls, "She's not worth it." Then her body is at his back, her voice upon his head. "I didn't know," she says, "you loved her so much. I don't think Janice knew it either."
"Well, you get used to somebody. Anyway, it's an insult. With a wop like that. You should hear him run down the U.S. government." ,
"Harry, you know what I think. I'm sure you know what I think."
He doesn't. He has no idea. She seems to think he's been reading thoughts printed on her underpants.
"I think she's treated you horribly. The last time we had lunch together, I told her so. I said, 'Janice, your attempts to justify84 yourself do not impress me. You've left a man who came back to you when you needed him, and you've left your son at a point in his development when it's immensely important to have a stable home setting.' I said that right to her face."
"Actually the kid goes over to the lot pretty much and sees her there. She and Stavros take him out to eat. In a way it's like he gained an uncle."
"You're so forgiving, Harry! Ollie would have strangled me; he's still immensely jealous. He's always asking me who my boyfriends are."
He doubts she has any, and sips85 his drink. Although in this county women with big bottoms usually don't go begging. Dutchmen love bulk. He says, "Well, I don't know if I did such a great job with Janice. She has to live too."
"Well Harry, if that's your reasoning, we all have to live." And from the way she stands there in front of him, if he sat up straight her pussy86 would be exactly at his nose. Hair tickles88: he might sneeze. He sips the drink again, and feels the tasteless fluid expand his inner space. He might sit up at any minute, if she doesn't watch out. From the hair on her head probably a thick springy bush, though you can't always tell, some of the cunts in the magazine just had wisps at the base of their bellies, hardly an armpit's worth. Dolls. She moves away saying, "Who'll hold families together, if everybody has to live? Living is a compromise, between doing what you want and doing what other people want."
"What about what poor old God wants?"
The uncalled?for noun jars her from the seductive pose she has assumed, facing out the window, her backside turned to him. The dog position. Tip her over a chair and let her fuss herself with her fingers into coming while he does it from behind. Janice got so she preferred it, more animal, she wasn't distracted by the look on his face, never was one for wet kisses, when they first started going together complained she couldn't breathe, he asked her if she had adenoids. Seriously. No two alike, a billion cunts in the world, snowflakes. Touch them right they melt. What we most protect is where we want to be invaded. Peggy leaves her drink on the sill like a tall jewel and turns to him with her deformed89 face open. Since the word has been sprung on her, she asks, "Don't you think God is people?"
"No, I think God is everything that isn't people. I guess I think that. I don't think enough to know what I think." In irritation90, he stands.
Big against the window, a hot shadow, palish?purple edges catching91 the light ebbing92 from the red city, the dim mountain, Peggy exclaims. "Oh, you think with" ? and to assist her awkward thought she draws his shape in the air with two hands, having freed them for this gesture ?"your whole person."
She looks so helpless and vague there seems nothing for Harry to do but step into the outline of himself she has drawn93 and kiss her. Her face, eclipsed, feels large and cool. Her lips bumble on his, the spongy wax of gumdrops, yet narcotic95, not quite tasteless: as a kid Rabbit loved bland96 candy like Dots; sitting in the movies he used to plow97 through three nickel boxes of them, playing with them with his tongue and teeth, playing, playing before giving himself the ecstasy98 of the bite. Up and down his length she bumps against him, straining against his height, touching99. The strange place on her where nothing is, the strange place higher where some things are. Her haunches knot with the effort of keeping on tiptoe. She pushes, pushes: he is a cunt this one?eyed woman is coldly pushing up into. He feels her mind gutter100 out; she has wrapped them in a clumsy large ball of darkness.
Something scratches on the ball. A key in a lock. Then the door knocks. Harry and Peggy push apart, she tucks her hair back around her spread?legged eyes and runs heavily to the door and lets in the boys. They are red?faced and furious. "Mom, the fucking thing broke down again," Billy tells his mother. Nelson looks over at Harry. The boy is near tears. Since Janice left, he is silent and delicate: an eggshell full of tears.
"It wasn't my fault," he calls huskily, injustice102 a sieve103 in his throat. "Dad, he says it was my fault."
"You baby, I didn't say that exactly."
"You did. He did, Dad, and it wasn't."
"All I said was he spun104 out too fast. He always spins out too fast. He flipped105 on a loose stone, now the headlight is bent107 under and it won't start."
"If it wasn't such a cheap one it wouldn't break all the time."
"It's not a cheap one it's the best one there is almost and anyway you don't even have any -"
"I wouldn't take one if you gave it to me -'
"So who are you to talk."
"Hey, easy, easy," Harry says. "We'll get it fixed108. I'll pay for it."
"Don't pay for it, Dad. It wasn't anybody's fault. It's just he's so spoiled."
"You shrimp109," Billy says, and hits him, much the same way that three weeks ago Harry hit Janice, hard but seeking a spot that could take it. Harry separates them, squeezing Billy's arm so the kid clams110 up. This kid is going to be tough some day. Already his arm is stringy.
Peggy is just bringing it all into focus, her insides shifting back from that kiss. "Billy, these things will happen ifyou insist on playing so dangerously." To Harry she says, "Damn Ollie for getting it for him, I think he did it to spite me. He knows I hate machines."
Harry decides Billy is the one to talk to. "Hey. Billy. Shall I take Nelson back home, or do you want him to spend the night anyway?"
And both boys set up a wailing111 for Nelson to spend the night. "Dad you don't have to come for me or anything, I'll ride my bike home in the morning first thing, I left it here yesterday."
So Rabbit releases Billy's arm and gives Nelson a kiss somewhere around the ear and tries to find the right eye of Peggy's to look into. "Okey?doak. I'll be off."
She says, "Must you? Stay. Can't I give you supper? Another drink? It's early yet."
"This guy's waiting," Rabbit lies, and makes it around her furniture to the door.
Her body chases him. Her vague eyes shine in their tissuepaper sockets112, and her lips have that loosened look kissed lips get; he resists the greedy urge to buy another box of Dots. "Harry," she begins, and seems to fall toward him, after a stumble, though they don't touch.
"Yeah?"
"I'm usually here. If?you know."
"I know. Thanks for the g.?and?t. Your view is great." He reaches then and pats, not her ass exactly, the flank at the side of it, too broad, too firm, alive enough under his palm, it turns out, to make him wonder, when her door closes, why he is going down the elevator, and out.
It is too early to meet Buchanan. He walks back through the West Brewer side streets toward Weiser, through the dulling summer light and the sounds of distant games, of dishes rattled113 in kitchen sinks, of television muffled114 to a murmur mechanically laced with laughter and applause, of cars driven by teenagers laying rubber and shifting down. Children and old men sit on the porch steps beside the lead?colored milk?bottle boxes. Some stretches of sidewalk are brick; these neighborhoods, the oldest in West Brewer, close to the river, are cramped117, gentle, barren. Between the trees there is a rigid118 flourishing of hydrants, meters, and signs, some of them ? virtual billboards119 in white on green directing motorists to superhighways whose number is blazoned120 on the federal shield or on the commonwealth121 keystone; from these obscure West Brewer byways, sidewalks and asphalt streets rumpled122 comfortably as old clothes, one can be arrowed toward Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington the national capital, New York the headquarters of commerce and fashion. Or in the other direction can find Pittsburgh and Chicago. But beneath these awesome123 metal insignia of vastness and motion fat men in undershirts loiter, old ladies move between patches of gossip with the rural waddle124 of egg?gatherers, dogs sleep curled beside the cooling curb125, and children with hockey sticks and tape?handled bats diffidently chip at whiffle balls and wads of leather, whittling126 themselves into the next generation of athletes and astronauts. Rabbit's eyes sting in the dusk, in this smoke of his essence, these harmless neighborhoods that have gone to seed. So much love, too much love, it is our madness, it is rotting us out, exploding us like dandelion polls. He stops at a corner grocery for a candy bar, an Oh Henry, then at the Burger Bliss127 on Weiser, dazzling in its lake of parking space, for a Lunar Special (double cheeseburger with an American flag stuck into the bun) and a vanilla128 milkshake, that tastes toward the bottom of chemical sludge.
The interior of Burger Bliss is so bright that his fingernails, with their big mauve moons, gleam and the coins he puts down in payment seem cartwheels of metal. Beyond the lake of light, unfriendly darkness. He ventures out past a dimmed drive?in bank and crosses the bridge. High slender arc lamps on giant flower stems send down a sublunar light by which the hurrying cars all appear purple. There are no other faces but his on the bridge. From the middle, Brewer seems a web, to which glowing droplets129 adhere. Mt. Judge is one with the night. The luminous130 smudge of the Pinnacle131 Hotel hangs like a star.
Gnats132 bred by the water brush Rabbit's face; Janice's desertion nags133 him from within, a sore spot in his stomach. Ease off beer and coffee. Alone, he must take care of himself. Sleeping alone, he dreads135 the bed, watches the late shows, Carson, Griffin, cocky guys with nothing to sell but their brass136. Making millions on sheer gall137. American dream: when he first heard the phrase as a kid he pictured God lying sleeping, the quilt?colored map of the U.S. coming out of his head like a cloud. Peggy's embrace drags at his limbs. Suit feels sticky. Jimbo's Friendly Lounge is right off the Brewer end of the bridge, a half?block down from Plum. Inside it, all the people are black.
Black to him is just a political word but these people really are, their faces shine of blackness turning as he enters, a large soft white man in a sticky gray suit. Fear travels up and down his skin, but the music of the great green?and?mauve?glowing jukebox called Moonmood slides on, and the liquid of laughter and tickled138 muttering resumes flowing; his entrance was merely a snag. Rabbit hangs like a balloon waiting for a dart17; then his elbow is jostled and Buchanan is beside him.
"Hey, man, you made it." The Negro has materialized from the smoke. His overtrimmed mustache looks wicked in here.
"You didn't think I would?"
"Doubted it," Buchanan says. "Doubted it severely141."
"It was your idea."
"Right. Harry, you are right. I'm not arguing, I am rejoicing. Let's fix you up. You need a drink, right?"
"I don't know, my stomach's getting kind of sensitive."
"You need two drinks. Tell me your poison."
"Maybe a Daiquiri?"
"Never. That is a lady's drink for salad luncheons142. Rufe, you old rascal143."
"Yazzuh, yazzuh," comes the answer from the bar.
"Do a Stinger for the man."
"Yaz?zuh."
Rufe has a bald head like one of the stone hatchets144 in the Brewer Museum, only better polished. He bows into the marine145 underglow of the bar and Buchanan leads Rabbit to a booth in the back. The place is deep and more complicated than it appears from the outside. Booths recede146 and lurk147: darkwood cape148?shapes. Along one wall, Rufe and the lowlit bar; behind and above it, not only the usual Pabst and Bud and Miller's gimcracks bobbing and shimmering149, but two stuffed small deer?heads, staring with bright brown eyes that will never blink. Gazelles, could they have been gazelles? A space away, toward a wall but with enough room for a row of booths behind, a baby grand piano, painted silver with .one ofthose spray cans, silver in circular swirls. In a room obliquely150 off the main room, a pool table: colored boys all arms and legs spidering around the idyllic151 green felt. The presence of any game reassures152 Rabbit. Where any game is being played a hedge exists against fury. "Come meet some soul," Buchanan says. Two shadows in the booth are a man and a woman. The man wears silver circular glasses and a little pussy of a goatee and is young. The woman is old and wrinkled and smokes a yellow cigarette that requires much sucking in and holding down and closing of the eyes and sighing. Her brown eyelids153 are gray, painted blue. Sweat shines below the base of her throat, on the slant154 bone between her breasts, as if she had breasts, which she does not, though her dress, the blood?color of a rooster's comb, is cut deep, as if she did. Before they are introduced she says "Hi" to Harry, but her eyes slit155 to pin him fast in the sliding of a dream.
"This man," Buchanan is announcing, "is a co?worker of mine, he works right beside his daddy at Ver?i?ty Press, an expert Linotypist," giving syllables156 an odd ticking equality, a put?on or signal of some sort? "But not only that. He is an ath?e?lete of renown157, a basketball player bar none, the Big O of Brewer in his day."
"Very beautiful," the other dark man says. Round specs tilt158, glint. The shadow of a face they cling to feels thin in the darkness. The voice arises very definite and dry.
"Many years ago," Rabbit says, apologizing for his bulk, his bloated pallor, his dead fame. He sits down in the booth to hide.
"He has the hands," the woman states. She is in a trance. She says, "Give old Babe one of those hands, white boy." A?prickle with nervousness, wanting to sneeze on the sweetish smoke, Rabbit lifts his right hand up from his lap and lays it on the slippery table. Innocent meat. Distorted paw. Reminds him of, on television, that show with chimpanzees synchronized159 with talk and music, the eerie160 look of having just missed the winning design.
The woman touches it. Her touch reptilian161 cool. Her eyes lift, brooding. Above the glistening162 bone her throat drips jewels, a napkin of rhinestones163 or maybe real diamonds; Cadillacs after all, alligator164 shoes, they can't put their money into real estate like whites; Springer's thrifty165 Toyotas not to the point. His mind is racing166 with his pulse. She has a silver sequin pasted beside one eye. Accent the ugly until it becomes gorgeous. Her eyelashes are great false crescents. That she has taken such care of herself leads him to suspect she will not harm him. His pulse slows. Her touch slithers nice as a snake. "Do dig that thumb," she advises the air. She caresses168 his thumb's curve. Its thin?skinned veined ball. Its colorless moon nail. "That thumb means sweetness and light. It is an indicator169 of pleasure in Sagittarius and Leo." She gives one knuckle170 an affectionate pinch.
The Negro not Buchanan (Buchanan has hustled172 to the bar to check on the Stinger) says, "Not like one of them usual little sawed?off nuggers these devils come at you with, right?"
Babe answers, not yielding her trance, "No, sir. This thumb here is extremely plausible173. Under the right signs it would absolutely function. Now these knuckles174 here, they aren't so good, I don't get much music out of these knuckles." And she presses a chord on them, with fingers startlingly hard and certain. "But this here thumb," she goes back to caressing175 it, "is a real enough heartbreaker."
"All these Charlies is heartbreakers, right? Just cause they don't know how to shake their butterball asses52 don't mean they don't get Number One in, they gets it in real mean, right? The reason they so mean, they has so much religion, right? That big white God go tells 'em, Screw that black chick, and they really wangs away 'cause God's right there slappin' away at their butterball asses. Cracker176 spelled backwards is fucker, right?"
Rabbit wonders if this is how the young Negro really talks, wonders if there is a real way. He does not move, does not even bring back his hand from the woman's inspection177, her touches chill as teeth. He is among panthers.
Buchanan, that old rascal, bustles178 back and sets before Rabbit a tall pale glass of poison and shoves in so Rabbit has to shove over opposite the other man. Buchanan's eyes check around the faces and guess it's gotten heavy. Lightly he says, "This man's wife, you know what? That woman, I never had the pleasure of meeting her, not counting those Verity picnics where Farnsworth, you all know Farnsworth now ? ?"
"Like a father," the young man says, adding, "Right?"
" ? gets me so bombed out of my mind on that barrel beer I can't remember anybody by face or name, where was I? Yes, that woman, she just upped and left him the other week, left him flat to go chasing around with some other gentleman, something like an I?talian, didn't you say Harry?"
"A Greek."
Babe clucks. "Honey, now what did he have you didn't? He must of had a thumb long as this badmouth's tongue." She nudges her companion, who retrieves179 from his lips this shared cigarette, which has grown so short it must burn, and sticks out his tongue. Its whiteness shocks Rabbit; a mouthful of luminous flesh. Though fat and pale, it does not look very long. This man, Rabbit sees, is a boy; the patch of goatee is all he can grow. Harry does not like him. He likes Babe, he thinks, even though she has dried hard, a prune180 on the bottom of the box. In here they are all on the bottom of the box. This drink, and his hand, are the whitest thing around. Not to think of the other's tongue. He sips. Too sweet, wicked. A thin headache promptly181 begins.
Buchanan is persisting, "Don't seem right to me, healthy big man living alone with nobody now to comfort him."
The goatee bobs. "Doesn't bother me in the slightest. Gives the man time to think, right? Gets the thought of cunt off his back, right? Chances are he has some hobby he can do, you know, like woodwork." He explains to Babe, "You know, like a lot of these peckerwoods have this clever thing they can do down in their basements, like stamp collecting, right? That's how they keep making it big. Cleverness, right?" He taps his skull182, whose narrowness is padded by maybe an inch of tight black wool. The texture183 reminds Rabbit of his mother's crocheting184, if she had used tiny metal thread. Her blue bent hands now helpless. Even in here, family sadness pokes185 at him, probing sore holes.
"I used to collect baseball cards," he tells them. He hopes to excite enough rudeness from them so he can leave. He remembers the cards' bubble?gum smell, their silken feel from the powdered sugar. He sips the Stinger.
Babe sees him make a face. "You don't have to drink that piss." She nudges her neighbor again. "Let's have one more stick."
"Woman, you must think I'm made of hay."
"I know you're plenty magical, that's one thing. Off that uptight186 shit, the ofay here needs a lift and I'm nowhere near spaced enough to pee?form."
"Last drag," he says, and passes her the tiny wet butt57.
She crushes it into the Sunflower Beer ashtray187. "This roach is hereby dead." And holds her thin hand palm up for a hit.
Buchanan is clucking. "Mother?love, go easy on yourself," he tells Babe.
The other Negro is lighting188 another cigarette; the paper is twisted at the end and flares189, subsides190. He passes it to her saying, "Waste is a sin, right?"
"Hush191 now. This honeyman needs to loosen up, I hate to see 'em sad, I always have, they aren't like us, they don't have the insides to accommodate it. They's like little babies that way, they passes it off to someone else." She is offering Rabbit the cigarette, moist end toward him.
He says, "No thanks, I gave up smoking ten years ago."
Buchanan chuckles192, with thumb and forefinger194 smooths his mustache sharper.
The boy says, "They're going to live forever, right?"
Babe says, "This ain't any of that nicotine195 shit. This weed is kindness itself."
While Babe is coaxing196 him, Buchanan and the boy diagonally discuss his immortality197. "My daddy used to say, Down home, you never did see a dead white man, any more'n you'd see a dead mule198."
"God's on their side, right? God's white, right? He doesn't want no more Charlies up there to cut into his take, he has it just fine the way it is, him and all those black angels out in the cotton."
"Your mouth's gonta hurt you, boy. The man is the lay of the land down here."
"Whose black ass you hustling199, hers or yours?"
"You just keep your smack200 in the heel of your shoe."
Babe is saying, "You suck it in as far as it'll go and hold it down as long as you absolutely can. It needs to mix with you."
Rabbit tries to comply, but coughing undoes201 every puff202. Also he is afraid of getting "hooked," of being suddenly jabbed with a needle, of starting to hallucinate because of something dropped into his Stinger. AUTOPSY203 ORDERED IN FRIENDLY LOUNGE DEATH. Coroner Notes Atypical Color of Skin.
Watching him cough, the boy says, "He is beautiful. I didn't know they still came with all those corners. Right out of the crackerbox, right?"
This angers Rabbit enough to keep a drag down. It burns his throat and turns his stomach. He exhales204 with the relief of vomiting205 and waits for something to happen. Nothing. He sips the Stinger but now it tastes chemical like the bottom of that milkshake. He wonders how he can get out of here. Is Peggy's offer still open? Just to feel the muggy206 kiss of summer night on the Brewer streets would be welcome. Nothing feels worse than other people's good times.
Babe asks Buchanan, "What'd you have in mind, Buck207?" She is working on the joint208 now and the smoke includes her eyes.
The fat man's shrug jiggles Rabbit's side. "No big plans," Buchanan mutters. "See what develops. Woman, way you're goin', you won't be able to tell those black keys from the white."
She plumes209 smoke into his face. "Who owns who?"
The boy cuts in. "Ofay doesn't dig he's a john, right?"
Buchanan, his smoothness jammed, observes, "That mouth again."
Rabbit asks loudly, "What else shall we talk about?" and twiddles his fingers at Babe for the joint. Inhaling210 still burns, but something is starting to mesh211. He feels his height above the others as a good, a lordly, thing.
Buchanan is probing the other two. "Jill in tonight?"
Babe says, "Left her back at the place."
The boy asks, "On a nod, right?"
"You stay away, hear, she got herself clean. She's on no nod, just tired from mental confusion, from fighting her signs."
"Clean," the boy says, "what's clean? White is clean, right? Cunt is clean, right? Shit is clean, right? There's nothin' not clean the law don't go pointing its finger at it, right?"
"Wrong," Babe says. "Hate is not clean. A boy like you with hate in his heart, he needs to wash."
"Wash is what they said to Jesus, right?"
"Who's Jill?" Rabbit asks.
"Wash is what Pilate said he thought he might go do, right? Don't go saying clean to me, Babe, that's one darkie bag they had us in too long."
Buchanan is still delicately prying212 at Babe. "She coming in?"
The other cuts in, "She'll be in, can't keep that cunt away; put locks on the doors, she'll ooze213 in the letter slot."
Babe turns to him in mild surprise. "Now you loves little Jill."
"You can love what you don't like, right?"
Babe hangs her head. "That poor baby," she tells the tabletop, "just going to hurt herself and anybody standing near."
Buchanan speaks slowly, threading his way. "Just thought, man might like to meet Jill."
The boy sits up. Electricity, reflected from the bar and the streets, spins around his spectacle rims214. "Gonna match 'em up," he says, "you're gonna cut yourself in on an all?honky fuck. You can out?devil these devils any day, right? You could of outniggered Moses on the hill."
He seems to be a static the other two put up with. Buchanan is still prying at Babe across the table. "Just thought," he shrugs, "two birds with one stone."
A tear falls from her creased215 face to the tabletop. Her hair is done tight back like a schoolgirl's, a red ribbon in back. It must hurt, with kinky hair. "Going to take herself down all the way, it's in her signs, can't slip your signs."
"Who's that voodoo supposed to boogaboo?" the boy asks. "Whitey here got so much science he don't even need to play the numbers, right?"
Rabbit asks, "Is Jill white?"
The boy tells the two others angrily, "Cut the crooning, she'll be here, Christ, where else would she go, right? We're the blood to wash her sins away, right? Clean. Shit, that burns me. There's no dirt made that cunt won't swallow. With a smile on her face, right? Because she's clean." There seems to be not only a history but a religion behind his anger. Rabbit sees this much, that the other two are working to fix him up with this approaching cloud, this Jill, who will be pale like the Stinger, and poisonous.
He announces, "I think I'll go soon."
Buchanan swiftly squeezes his forearm. "What you want to do that for, Br'er Rabbit? You haven't achieved your objective, friend."
"My only objective was to be polite." She'll ooze in the letter slot: haunted by this image and the smoke inside him, he feels he can lift up from the booth, pass across Buchanan's shoulders like a shawl, and out the door. Nothing can hold him, not Mom, not Janice. He could slip a posse dribbling217, Tothero used to flatter him.
"You going to go off half?cocked," Buchanan warns.
"You ain't heard Babe play," the other man says.
He stops rising. "Babe plays?"
She is flustered218, stares at her thin ringless hands, fiddles219, mumbles220. "Let him go. Let the man run. I don't want him to hear."
The boy teases her. "Babe now, what sort of bad black act you putting on? He wants to hear you do your thing. Your darkie thing, right? You did the spooky card?reading bit and now you can do the banjo bit and maybe you can do the hot momma bit afterwards but it doesn't look like it right now, right?"
"Ease off, nigger," she says, face still bent low. "Sometime you going to lean too hard."
Rabbit asks her shyly, "You play the piano?"
"He gives me bad vibes," Babe confesses to the two black men. "Those knuckles of his aren't too good. Bad shadows in there."
Buchanan surprises Harry by reaching and covering her thin bare hands with one of his broadened big pressman's hands, a ring of milk?blue jade221 on one finger, battered222 bright copper223 on another. His other arm reaches around Harry's shoulders, heavy. "Suppose you was him," he says to Babe, "how would that make you feel?"
"Bad," she says. "As bad as I feel anyway."
"Play for me Babe," Rabbit says in the lovingness of pot, and she lifts her eyes to his and lets her lips pull back on long yellow teeth and gums the color of rhubarb stems. "Men," Babe gaily224 drawls. "They sure can retail225 the shit." She pushes herself out of the booth, hobbling in her comb?red dress, and crosses through a henscratch of applause to the piano painted as if by children in silver swirls. She signals to the bar for Rufe to turn on the blue spot and bows stiffly, once, grudging226 the darkness around her a smile and, after a couple of runs to burn away the fog, plays.
What does Babe play? All the good old ones. All show tunes228. "Up a Lazy River," "You're the Top," "Thou Swell229," "Summertime," you know. There are hundreds, thousands. Men from Indiana wrote them in Manhattan. They flow into each other without edges, flowing under black bridges of chords thumped230 six, seven times, as if Babe is helping231 the piano to remember a word it won't say. Or spanking232 the silence. Or saying, Here I am, find me, find me. Her hands, all brown bone, hang on the keyboard hushed like gloves on a table; she gazes up through blue dust to get herself into focus, she lets her hands fall into another tune227: "My Funny Valentine," "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," "I Can't Get Started," starting to hum along with herself now, lyrics233 born in some distant smoke, decades when Americans moved within the American dream, laughing at it, starving on it, but living it, humming it, the national anthem234 everywhere. Wise guys and hicks, straw boaters and bib overalls235, fast bucks236, broken hearts, penthouses in the sky, shacks237 by the railroad tracks, ups and downs, rich and poor, trolley238 cars, and the latest news by radio. Rabbit had come in on the end of it, as the world shrank like an apple going bad and America was no longer the wisest hick town within a boat ride of Europe and Broadway forgot the tune, but here it all still was, in the music Babe played, the little stairways she climbed and came tap?dancing down, twinkling in black, and there is no other music, not really, though Babe works in some Beatles songs, "Yesterday" and "Hey Jude," doing it rinky?tink, her own style of ice to rattle73 in the glass. As Babe plays she takes on swaying and leaning backwards; at her arms' ends the standards go root back into ragtime239. Rabbit sees circus tents and fireworks and farmers' wagons240 and an empty sandy river running so slow the sole motion is catfish241 sleeping beneath the golden skin.
The boy leans forward and murmurs242 to Rabbit, "You want ass, right? You can have her. Fifty gets you her all night, all ways you can think up. She knows a lot."
Sunk in her music, Rabbit is lost. He shakes his head and says, "She's too good."
"Good, man; she got to live, right? This place don't pay her shit."
Babe has become a railroad, prune?head bobbing, napkin of jewels flashing blue, music rolling through crazy places, tunnels of dissonance and open stretches of the same tinny thin note bleeding itself into the sky, all sad power and happiness worn into holes .like shoe soles. From the dark booths around voices call out in a mutter "Go Babe" and "Do it, do it." The spidery boys in the adjacent room are frozen around the green felt. Into the mike that is there no bigger than a lollipop243 she begins to sing, sings in a voice that is no woman's voice at all and no man's, is merely human, the words of Ecclesiastes. A time to be born, a time to die. A time to gather up stones, a time to cast stones away. Yes. The Lord's last word. There is no other word, not really. Her singing opens up, grows enormous, frightens Rabbit with its enormous black maw of truth yet makes him overjoyed that he is here; he brims with joy, to be here with these black others, he wants to shout love through the darkness of Babe's noise to the sullen244 brother in goatee and glasses. He brims with this itch but does not spill. For Babe stops. As if suddenly tired or insulted Babe breaks off the song and shrugs and quits.
That is how Babe plays.
She comes back to the table stooped, trembling, nervous, old.
"That was beautiful, Babe," Rabbit tells her.
"It was," says another voice. A small white girl is standing there prim245, in a white dress casual and dirty as smoke.
"Hey. Jill," Buchanan says.
"Hi Buck. Skeeter, hi."
So Skeeter is his name. He scowls246 and looks at the cigarette of which there is not even butt enough to call a roach.
` Jilly?love," Buchanan says, standing until his thighs247 scrape the table edge, "allow me to introduce. Harry the Rabbit Angstrom, he works at the printing plant with me, along with his daddy."
"He has a daddy?" Jill asks, still looking at Skeeter, who will not look at her.
"Jilly, you go sit in here where I am," Buchanan says. "I'll go get a chair from Rufe."
"Down, baby," Skeeter says. "I'm splitting." No one offers to argue with him. Perhaps they are all as pleased as Rabbit to see him go.
Buchanan chuckles, he rubs his hands. His eyes keep in touch with all of them, even though Babe seems to be dozing249. He says to Jill, "How about a beverage250? A 7?Up? Rufe can make a lemonade even."
"Nothing," Jill says. Teaparty manner. Hands in lap. Thin arms. Freckles251. Rabbit scents167 in her the perfume of class. She excites him.
"Maybe she'd like a real drink," he says. With a white woman here he feels more in charge. Negroes, you can't blame them, haven't had his advantages. Slave ships, cabins, sold down the river, Ku Klux Klan, James Earl Ray: Channel 44 keeps having these documentaries all about it.
"I'm under age," Jill tells him politely.
Rabbit says, "Who cares?"
She answers, "The police."
"Not up the street they wouldn't mind so much," Buchanan explains, "if the girl halfway254 acted the part, but down here they get a touch fussy255."
"The fuzz is fussy," Babe says dreamily. "The fuzz is our fussy friends. The fuzzy motherfuckers fuss."
"Don't, Babe," Jill begs. "Don't pretend."
"You let your old black mamma have a buzz on," Babe says. "Don't I take good care of you mostly?"
"How would the police know if this kid has a drink?" Rabbit asks, willing to be indignant.
Buchanan makes his high short wheeze256. "Friend Harry, they'd just have to turn their heads."
"There're cops in here?"
"Friend" ? and from the way he sidles closer Harry feels he's found another father? "if it weren't for po?lice spies, poor Jimbo's wouldn't sell two beers a night. Po?lice spies are the absolute backbone257 of local low life. They got so many plants going, that's why they don't dare shoot in riots, for fear of killing258 one of their own."
"Like over in York."
Jill asks Rabbit, "Hey. You live in Brewer?" He sees that she doesn't like his being white in here, and smiles without answering. Screw you, little girl.
Buchanan answers for him. "Lady, does he live in Brewer? If he lived any more in Brewer he'd be a walking advertisement. He'd be the Owl Pretzel owl. I don't think this fella's ever gotten above Twelfth Street, have you Harry?"
"A few times. I was in Texas in the Army, actually."
"Did you get to fight?" Jill asks. Something scratchy here, but maybe like a kitten it's the way of making contact.
"I was all set to go to Korea," he says. "But they never sent me." Though at the time he was grateful, it has since eaten at him, become the shame of his life. He had never been a fighter but now there is enough death in him so that in a way he wants to kill.
"Now Skeeter," Buchanan is saying, "he's just back from Vietnam."
"That's why he so rude," Babe offers.
"I couldn't tell if he was rude or not," Rabbit confesses.
"That's nice," Buchanan says.
"He was rude," Babe says.
Jill's lemonade arrives. She is still girl enough to look happy when it is set before her: cakes at the teaparty. Her face lights up. A crescent of lime clings to the edge of the glass; she takes it off and sucks and makes a sour face. A child's plumpness has been drained from her before a woman's bones could grow and harden. She is the reddish type of fair; her hair hangs dull, without fire, almost flesh?color, or the color of the flesh of certain soft trees, yews259 or cedars260. Harry feels protective, timidly. In her tension of small bones she reminds him of Nelson. He asks her, "What do you do, Jill?"
"Nothing much," she says. "Hang around." It had been square of him to ask, pushing. The blacks fit around her like shadows.
"Jilly's a poor soul," Babe volunteers, stirring within her buzz. "She's fallen on evil ways." And she pats Rabbit's hand as if to say, Don't you fall upon these ways.
"Young Jill," Buchanan clarifies, "has run away from her home up there in Connec?ticut."
Rabbit asks her, "Why would you do that?"
"Why not? Let freedom ring."
"Can I ask how old you are?"
"You can ask."
"I'm asking."
Babe hasn't let go of Rabbit's hand; with the fingernail of her index finger she is toying with the hairs on the back of his fist. It makes his teeth go cold, for her to do that. "Not so old you couldn't be her daddy," Babe says.
He is beginning to get the drift. They are presenting him with this problem. He is the consultant262 honky. The girl, too, unwilling263 as she is, is submitting to the interview. She inquires of him, only partly parrying, "How old are you?"
"Thirty?six."
"Divide by two."
"Eighteen, huh? How long've you been on the run? Away from your parents."
"Her daddy dead," Buchanan interposes softly.
"Long enough, thank you." Her face pales, her freckles stand out sharply: blood?dots that have dried brown. Her dry little lips tighten264; her chin drifts toward him. She is pulling rank. He is Penn Villas265, she is Penn Park. Rich kids make all the trouble.
"Long enough for what?"
"Long enough to do some sick things."
"Are you sick?"
"I'm cured."
Buchanan interposes, "Babe helped her out."
"Babe is a beautiful person," Jill says. "I was really a mess when Babe took me in."
` Jilly is my sweetie," Babe says, as suddenly as in playing she moves from one tune to another, ` Jilly is my baby?love and I'm her mamma?love," and takes her brown hands away from Harry's to encircle the girl's waist and hug her against the roostercomb?red of her dress; the two are women, though one is a prune and the other a milkweed. Jill pouts266 in pleasure. Her mouth is lovable when it moves, Rabbit thinks, the lower lip bumpy267 and dry as if chapped, though this is not winter but the humid height of summer.
Buchanan is further explaining. "Fact of it is, this girl hasn't got no place regular to go. Couple weeks ago, she comes in here, not knowing I suppose the place was mostly for soul, a little pretty girl like this get in with some of the brothers they would tear her apart limb by sweet limb" ? he has to chuckle193 ? "so Babe takes her right away under her wing. Only trouble with that is" ? the fat man rustles268 closer, making the booth a squeeze ? "Babe's place is none too big, and anyways. . ."
The child flares up. "Anyways I'm not welcome." Her eyes widen: Rabbit has not seen their color before, they have been shadowy, moving slowly, as if their pink lids are tender or as if, rejecting instruction and inventing her own way of moving through the world, she has lost any vivid idea of what to be looking for. Her eyes are green. The dry tired green, yet one of his favorite colors, of August grass.
"Jilly?love," Babe says, hugging, "you the most welcome little white baby there could be."
Buchanan is talking only to Rabbit, softer and softer. "You know, those things happen over York way, they could happen here, and how could we protect" ? the smallest wave of his hand toward the girl lets the sentence gracefully269 hang; Harry is reminded of Stavros's gestures. Buchanan ends chuckling270: "We be so busy keepin' holes out of our own skins. Dependin' where you get caught, being black's a bad ticket both ways!"
Jill snaps, "I'll be all right. You two stop it now. Stop trying to sell me to this creep. I don't want him. He doesn't want me. Nobody wants me. That's all right. I don't want anybody."
"Everybody wants somebody," Babe says. "I don't mind your hangin' around my place, some gentlemen mind, is all."
Rabbit says, "Buchanan minds," and this perception astonishes them; the two blacks break into first shrill271, then jingling272, laughter, and another Stinger appears on the table between his hands, pale as lemonade.
"Honey, it's just the visibility," Babe then adds sadly. "You make us ever so visible."
A silence grows like the silence when a group of adults is waiting for a child to be polite. Sullenly273 Jill asks Rabbit, "What do you do?"
"Set type," Rabbit tells her. "Watch TV. Babysit."
"Harry here," Buchanan explains, "had a nasty shock the other day. His wife for no good reason upped and left him."
"No reason at all?" Jill asks. Her mouth pouts forward, vexed274 and aggressive, yet her spark of interest dies before her breath is finished with the question.
Rabbit thinks. "I think I bored her. Also, we didn't agree politically."
"What about?"
"The Vietnam war. I'm all for it."
Jill snatches in her breath.
Babe says, "I knew those knuckles looked bad."
Buchanan offers to smooth it over. "Everybody at the plant is for it. We think, you don't hold 'em over there, you'll have those black?pajama fellas on the streets over here."
Jill says to Rabbit seriously, "You should talk to Skeeter about it. He says it was a fabulous275 trip. He loved it."
"I wouldn't know about that. I'm not saying it's pleasant to fight in or be caught in. I just don't like the kids making the criticisms. People say it's a mess so we should get out. If you stayed out of every mess you'd never get into anything."
"Amen," Babe says. "Life is generally shit."
Rabbit goes on, feeling himself get rabid, "I guess I don't much believe in college kids or the Viet Cong. I don't think they have any answers. I think they're minorities trying to bring down everything that halfway works. Halfway isn't all the way but it's better than no way."
Buchanan smooths on frantically276. His upper lip is bubbling with sweat under his slit of a mustache. "I agree ninety?nine per cent. Enlightened self?interest is the phrase I like. The way I see, enlightened self?interest's the best deal we're likely to get down here. I don't buy pie in the sky whoever is slicing it. These young ones like Skeeter, they say All power to the people, you look around for the people, the only people around is them."
"Because of Toms like you," Jill says.
Buchanan blinks. His voice goes deeper, hurt. "I ain't no Tom, girl. That kind of talk doesn't help any of us. That kind of talk just shows how young you are. What I am is a man trying to get from Point A to Point B, from the cradle to the grave hurting the fewest people I can. Just like Harry here, if you'd ask him. Just like your late daddy, God rest his soul."
Babe says, hugging the stubbornly limp girl, "I just likes Jilly's spunk278, she's less afraid what to do with her life than fat old smelly you, sittin' there lickin' yourself like an old cigar end." But while talking she keeps her eyes on Buchanan as if his concurrence279 is to be desired. Mothers and fathers, they turn up everywhere.
Buchanan explains to Jill with a nice levelness, "So that is the problem. Young Harry here lives in this fancy big house over in the fanciest part of West Brewer, all by himself, and never gets any tail."
Harry protests. "I'm not that alone. I have a kid with me."
"Man has to have tail," Buchanan is continuing.
"Play, Babe," a dark voice shouts from a dark booth. Rufe bobs his head and switches on the blue spot. Babe sighs and offers Jill what is left of Skeeter's joint. Jill shakes her head and gets out of the booth to let Babe out. Rabbit thinks the girl is leaving and discovers himself glad when she sits down again, opposite him. He sips his Stinger and she chews the ice from her lemonade while Babe plays again. This time the boys in the poolroom softly keep at their game. The clicking and the liquor and the music mix and make the space inside him very big, big enough to hold blue light and black faces and "Honeysuckle Rose" and stale smoke sweeter than alfalfa and this apparition280 across the way, whose wrists and forearms are as it were translucent281 and belonging to another order of creature; she is not yet grown. Her womanliness is attached to her, it floats from her like a little zeppelin he can almost see. And his inside space expands to include beyond Jimbo's the whole world with its arrowing wars and polychrome races, its continents shaped like ceiling stains, its strings282 of gravitational attraction attaching it to every star, its glory in space as of a blue marble swirled283 with clouds; everything is warm, wet, still coming to birth but himself and his home, which remains284 a strange dry place, dry and cold and emptily spinning in the void of Penn Villas like a cast?off space capsule. He doesn't want to go there but he must. He must. "I must go," he says, rising.
"Hey, hey," Buchanan protests. "The night hasn't even got itself turned around to get started yet."
"I ought to be home in case my kid can't stand the kid he's staying with. I promised I'd visit my parents tomorrow, if they didn't keep my mother in the hospital for more tests."
"Babe will be sad, you sneaking285 out. She took a shine to you."
"Maybe that other guy she took a shine to will be back. My guess is Babe takes a shine pretty easy."
"Don't you get nasty."
"No, I love her, Jesus. Tell her. She plays like a whiz. This has been a terrific change of pace for me." He tries to stand, but the table edge confines him to a crouch286. The booth tilts287 and he rocks slightly, as if he is already in the slowly turning cold house he is heading toward. Jill stands up with him, obedient as a mirror.
"One of these times," Buchanan continues beneath them, "maybe you can get to know Babe better. She is one good egg."
"I don't doubt it." He tells Jill, "Sit down."
"Aren't you going to take me with you? They want you to."
"Gee288. I hadn't thought to."
She sits down.
"Friend Harry, you've hurt the little girl's feelings. Nasty must be your middle name."
Jill says, "Far as creeps like this are concerned, I have no feelings. I've decided he's queer anyway."
"Could be," Buchanan says. "It would explain that wife."
"Come on, let me out of the booth. I'd like to take her -'
"Then help yourself, friend. On me."
Babe is playing "Time After Time." I tell myself that I'm.
Harry sags289. The table edge is killing his thighs. "O.K., kid. Come along."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"You'll be bored," he feels in honesty obliged to add.
"You've been had," she tells him.
"Jilly now, be gracious for the gentleman." Buchanan hastily pushes out of the booth, lest the combination tumble, and lets Harry slide out and leans against him confidentially290. Geezers. His breath rises bad, from under the waxed needles. "Problem is," he explains, the last explaining he will do tonight, "it don't look that good, her being in here, under age and all. The fuzz now, they aren't absolutely unfriendly, but they hold us pretty tight to the line, what with public opinion the way it is. So it's not that healthy for anybody. She's a poor child needs a daddy, is the simple truth of it."
Rabbit asks her, "How'd he die?"
Jill says, "Heart. Dropped dead in a New York theater lobby. He and my mother were seeing Hair."
"O.K. Let's shove." To Buchanan Rabbit says, "How much for the drinks? Wow. They're just hitting me."
"On us," is the answer, accompanied by a wave of a palm the color of silver polish. "On the black community." He has to wheeze and chuckle. Struggling for solemnity: "This is real big of you, man. You're a big man."
"See you at work Monday."
"Jilly?love, you be a good girl. We'll keep in touch."
"I bet."
Disturbing, to think that Buchanan works. We all work. Day selves and night selves. The belly291 hungers, the spirit hungers. Mouths munch292, cunts swallow. Monstrous293. Soul. He used to try to picture it when a child. A parasite294 like a tapeworm inside. A sprig of mistletoe hung from our bones, living on air. A jellyfish swaying between our lungs and our liver. Black men have more, bigger. Cocks like eels19. Night feeders. Their touching underbelly smell on buses, their dread134 of those clean dry places where Harry must be. He wonders if he will be sick. Poison in those Stingers, on top of moonburgers.
Babe shifts gears, lays out six chords like six black lead slugs slapping into the tray, and plays, "There's a Small Hotel." With a wishing well.
With this Jill, then, Rabbit enters the street. On his right, toward the mountain, Weiser stretches sallow under blue street lights. The Pinnacle Hotel makes a tattered295 blur, the back of the Sunflower Beer clock shows yellow neon petals296; otherwise the great street is dim. He can remember when Weiser with its five movie marquees and its medley297 ofneon outlines appeared as gaudy298 as a carnival299 midway. People would stroll, children between them. Now the downtown looks deserted300, sucked dry by suburban301 shopping centers and haunted by rapists. LOCAL HOODS115 ASSAULT ELDERLY, last week's Vat29 had headlined. In the original version of the head LOCAL had been BLACK.
They turn left, toward the Running Horse Bridge. River moisture cools his brow. He decides he will not be sick. Never, even as an infant, could stand it; some guys, Ronnie Harrison for one, liked it, throw up after a few beers or before a big game, joke about the corn between their teeth, but Rabbit needed to keep it down, even at the cost of a bellyache. He still carries from sitting in Jimbo's the sense of the world being inside him; he will keep it down. The city night air. The ginger302 of tar13 and concrete baked all day, truck traffic lifted from it like a lid. Infrequent headlights stroke this girl, catching her white legs and thin dress as she hangs on the curb hesitant.
She asks, "Where's your car?"
"I don't have any."
"That's impossible."
"My wife took it when she left me."
"You didn't have two?"
"No." This is really a rich kid.
"I have a car," she says.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"I used to leave it on the street up near Babe's place off of Plum, I didn't know it was somebody's garage entrance, and one morning they had taken it away."
"And you didn't go after it?"
"I didn't have the money for any fine. And I'm scared of the police, they might check me out. The staties must have a bulletin on me."
"Wouldn't the simplest thing for you be to go back to Connecticut?"
"Oh, please," she says.
"What didn't you like about it?"
"It was all ego303. Sick ego."
"Something pretty egotistical about running away, too. What'd that do to your mother?"
The girl makes no answer, but crosses the street, from Jimbo's to the beginning of the bridge. Rabbit has to follow. "What kind of car was it?"
"A white Porsche." Wow."
"My father gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday."
"My father?in?law runs the Toyota agency in town."
They keep arriving at this place, where a certain symmetry snips304 their exchanges short. Having crossed the bridge, they stand on a little pond of sidewalk squares where in this age of cars few feet tread. The bridge was poured in the Thirties ? sidewalks, broad balustrades, and lamp plinths ? of reddish rough concrete; above them an original light standard, iron fluted305 and floral toward the top, looms306 stately but unlit at the entrance to the bridge, illumined since recently with cold bars of violet on tall aluminum307 stems rooted in the center of the walkway. Her white dress is unearthly in this light. A man's name is embedded309 in a bronze plaque310, illegible311. Jill asks impatiently, "Well, how shall we do?"
He assumes she means transportation. He is too shaky still, too full of smoke and Stinger, to look beyond that. The way to the center of Brewer, where taxis prowl and doze312, feels blocked. In the gloom beyond Jimbo's neon nimbus, brown shadows, local hoods, giggle313 in doorways314, watching. Rabbit says, "Let's walk across the bridge and hope for a bus. The last one comes around eleven, maybe on Saturdays it's later. Anyway, if none comes at all, it's not too far to walk to my place. My kid does it all the time."
"I love walking," she says. She touchingly315 adds, "I'm strong. You mustn't baby me."
The balustrade was poured in an X?pattern echoing rail fences; these Xs click past his legs not rapidly enough. The gritty breadth he keeps touching runs tepid317. Flecks318 as if of rock salt had been mixed into it. Not done that way anymore, not done this color, reddish, the warmth of flesh, her hair also, cut cedar261 color, lifting as she hurries to keep up.
"What's the rush?"
"Shhh. Dontcha hear 'em?"
Cars thrust by, rolling balls of light before them. An anvil320?drop below, to the black floor of the river: white shards321, boat shapes. Behind them, pattering feet, the press of pursuit. Rabbit dares stop and peek322 backwards. Two brown figures are chasing them. Their shadows shorten and multiply and lengthen323 and simplify again as they fly beneath the successive mauve angles, in and out of strips of light; one man is brandishing324 something white in his hand. It glitters. Harry's heart jams; he wants to make water. The West Brewer end of the bridge is forever away. LOCAL MAN STABBED DEFENDING OUT?OF?STATE GIRL. Body Tossed From Historic Bridge. He squeezes her arm and tries to make her run. Her skin is smooth and narrow yet tepid like the balustrade. She snaps, "Cut it out," and pulls away. He turns and finds, unexpectedly, what he had forgotten was there, courage; his body fits into the hardshell blindness of meeting a threat, rigid, only his eyes soft spots, himself a sufficient shield. Kill.
The Negroes halt under the near purple moon and back a step, frightened. They are young, their bodies liquid. He is bigger than they. The white flash in the hand of one is not a knife but a pocketbook of pearls. The bearer shambles325 forward with it. His eyewhites and the pearls look lavender in the light. "This yours, lady?"
"Oh. Yes."
"Babe sent us after."
"Oh. Thank you. Thank her."
"We scare somebody?"
"Not me. Him."
"Yeah."
"Dude scared us too."
"Sorry about that," Rabbit volunteers. "Spooky bridge."
"O.K."
"O.K." Their mauve eyeballs roll; their purple hands flip106 as their legs in the stitched skin of Levis seek the rhythm of leaving. They giggle together; and also at this moment two giant trailer trucks pass on the bridge, headed in opposite directions: their rectangles thunderously overlap327 and, having clapped the air between them, hurtle each on its way, corrosive328 and rumbling329. The bridge trembles. The Negro boys have disappeared. Rabbit walks on with Jill.
The pot and brandy and fear in him enhance the avenue he knows too well. No bus comes. Her dress flutters in the corner of his eye as he tries, his skin stretched and his senses shuffling330 and circling like a cloud of gnats, to make talk. "Your home was in Connecticut."
"A place called Stonington."
"Near New York?"
"Near enough. Daddy used to go down Mondays and come back Fridays. He loved to sail. He said about Stonington it was the only town in the state that faces the open sea, everything else is on the Sound."
"And he died, you said. My mother ? she has Parkinson's Disease."
"Look, do you like to talk this much? Why don't we just walk? I've never been in West Brewer before. It's nice."
"What's nice about it?"
"Everything. It doesn't have a past like the city does. So it's not so disappointed. Look at that, Burger Bliss. Isn't it beautiful, all goldy and plasticky with that purple fire inside?"
"That's where I ate tonight."
"How was the food?"
"Awful. Maybe I taste everything too much, I should start smoking again. My kid loves the place."
"How old did you say he was?"
"Twelve. Thirteen this October. He's small for his age."
"You shouldn't tell him that."
"Yeah. I try not to ride him."
"What would you ride him about?"
"Oh. He's bored by things I used to love. I don't think he's having much fun. He never goes outdoors."
"Hey. What's your name?"
"Harry."
"Hey, big Hang. Would you mind feeding me?"
"Sure, I mean No. At home? I don't know what we have in the icebox. Refrigerator."
"I mean over there, at the burger place."
"Oh, sure. Terrific. I'm sorry. I assumed you ate."
"Maybe I did, I tend to forget material details like that. But I don't think so. All I feel inside is lemonade."
She selects a Cashewburger for 85¢ and a strawberry milkshake. In the withering331 light she devours332 the burger, and he orders her another. She smiles apologetically. She has small inturned teeth, roundish and with tiny gaps between them like a printer's hairline spaces. Nice. "Usually I try to rise above eating."
"Why?"
"It's so ugly. Don't you think, it's one of the uglier things we do?"
"It has to be done."
"That's your philosophy, isn't it?" Even in this garishly333 lit place her face has about it something shadowy and elusive334, something that's skipped a stage. Finished, she wipes her fingers one by one on a paper napkin and says decisively, "Thank you very much." He pays. She clutches the purse, but what is in it? Credit cards? Diagrams for the revolution?
He has had coffee, to keep himself awake. Be up all night fucking this poor kid. Upholding the honor of middle?aged335 squares. Different races. In China, they used to tell you in the Army, the women put razor blades in their cunts in case the Japanese tried rape44. Rabbit's scrotum shrivels at the thought. Enjoy the walk. They march down Weiser, the store windows dark but for burglar lights, the Acme336 parking lot empty but for scattered337 neckers, the movie marquee changed from 2001 to TRUE GRIT316. Short enough to get it all on. They cross the street at a blinking yellow to Emberly Avenue, which then becomes Emberly Drive, which becomes Vista Crescent. The development is dark. "Talk about spooky," she says.
"I think it's the flatness," he says. "The town I grew up in, no two houses were on the same level."
"There's such a smell of plumbing338 somehow."
"Actually, the plumbing is none too good."
This smoky creature at his side has halved339 his weight. He floats up the steps to the porchlet, knees vibrating. Her profile by his shoulder is fine and cool as the face on the old dime340. The key to the door of three stepped windows nearly flies out of his hand, it feels so magical. Whatever he expects when he flicks341 on the inside hall light, it is not the same old furniture, the fake cobbler's bench, the sofa and the silverthread chair facing each other like two bulky drunks too tired to go upstairs. The blank TV screen in its box of metal painted with wood grain, the see?through shelves with nothing on them.
"Wow," Jill says. "This is really tacky."
Rabbit apologizes, "We never really picked out the furniture, it just kind of happened. Janice was always going to do different curtains."
Jill asks, "Was she a good wife?"
His answer is nervous; the question plants Janice back in the house, quiet in the kitchen, crouching342 at the head of the stairs, listening. "Not too bad. Not much on organizational ability, but until she got mixed up with this other guy at least she kept plugging away. She used to drink too much but got that under control. We had a tragedy about ten years ago that sobered her up I guess. Sobered me up too. A baby died."
"How?"
"An accident we caused."
"That's sad. Where do we sleep?"
"Why don't you take the kid's room, I guess he won't be back. The kid he's staying with, he's a real spoiled jerk, I told Nelson if it got too painful he should just come home. I probably should have been here to answer the phone. What time is it? How about a beer?"
Penniless, she is wearing a little wristwatch that must have cost two hundred at least. "Twelve?ten," she says. "Don't you want to sleep with me?"
"Huh? That's not your idea of bliss, is it? Sleeping with a creep?"
"You are a creep, but you just fed me."
"Forget it. On the white community. Ha."
"And you have this sweet funny family side. Always worrying about who needs you."
"Yeah, well it's hard to know sometimes. Probably nobody if I could face up to it. In answer to your question, sure I'd like to sleep with you, if I won't get hauled in for statutory rape."
"You're really scared of the law, aren't you?"
"I try to keep out of its way is all."
"I promise you on a Bible ? do you have a Bible?"
"There used to be one somewhere, that Nelson got for going to Sunday school, when he did. We've kind of let all that go. Just promise me."
"I promise you I'm eighteen. I'm legally a woman. I am not bait for a black gang. You will not be mugged or blackmailed344. You may fuck me."
"Somehow you're making me almost cry."
"You're awfully345 scared of me. Let's take a bath together and then see how we feel about it."
He laughs. "By then I guess I'll feel pretty gung?ho about it."
She is serious, a serious small?faced animal sniffing347 out her new lair348. "Where's the bathroom?"
"Take off your clothes here."
The command startles her; her chin dents349 and her eyes go wide with fright. No reason he should be the only scared person here. Rich bitch calling his living room tacky. Standing on the rug where he and Janice last made love, Jill skins out of her clothes. She kicks off her sandals and strips her dress upward. She is wearing no bra. Her tits tug350 upward, drop back, give him a headless stare. She is wearing bikini underpants, black lace, in a pattern too fine to read. Not pausing a moment for him to drink her in, she pulls the elastic351 down with two thumbs, wriggles352, and steps out. Where Janice had a springy triangle encroaching on the insides ofher thighs when she didn't shave, Jill has scarcely a shadow, amber353 fuzz dust darkened toward the center to an upright dainty mane. The horns of her pelvis like starved cheekbones. Her belly a child's, childless. Her breasts in some lights as she turns scarcely exist. Being naked elongates354 her neck: a true ripeness there, in the unhurried curve from base of skull to small of back, and in the legs, which link to the hips253 with knots of fat and keep a plumpness all the way down. Her ankles are less slim than Janice's. But, hey, she is naked in this room, his room. This really strange creature, too trusting. She bends to pick up her clothes. She treads lightly on his carpet, as if watchful355 for tacks356. She stands an arm's?length from him, her mouth pouting357 prim, a fleck319 of dry skin on the lower lip. "And you?"
"Upstairs." He undresses in his bedroom, where he always does; in the bathroom on the other side of the partition, water begins to cry, to sing, to splash. He looks down and has nothing of a hard?on. In the bathroom he finds her bending over to test the temperature mix at the faucet358. A tuft between her buttocks. From behind she seems a boy's slim back wedged into the upsidedown valentine of a woman's satin rear. He yearns359 to touch her, to touch the satin symmetry, and does. It stings his figertips like glass we don't expect is there. Jill doesn't deign360 to flinch78 or turn at his touch, testing the water to her satisfaction. His cock stays small but has stopped worrying.
Their bath is all too gentle, silent, liquid, and pure. They are each attentive361: he soaps and rinses362 her breasts as if their utter cleanness challenges him to make them even cleaner; she kneels and kneads his back as if a year of working weariness were in it. She blinds him in drenched363 cloth; she counts the gray hairs (six) in the hair of his chest. Still even as they stand to dry each other and he looms above her like a Viking he cannot shake the contented364 impotence ofhis sensation that they are the ends ofspotlight beams thrown on the clouds, that their role is to haunt this house like two bleached365 creatures on a television set entertaining an empty room.
She glances at his groin. "I don't turn you on exactly, do I?"
"You do, you do. Too much. It's still too strange. I don't even know your last name."
"Pendleton." She drops to her knees on the bathroom rug and takes his penis into her mouth. He backs away as if bitten.
"Wait."
Jill looks up at him crossly, looks up the slope of his slack gut101, a cranky puzzled child with none of the answers in the last class of the day, her mouth slick with forbidden candy. He lifts her as he would a child, but she is longer than a child, and her armpits are scratchy and deep; he kisses her on the mouth. No gumdrops, her lips harden and she twists her thin face away, saying into his shoulder, "I don't turn anybody on, much. No tits. My mother has nifty tits, maybe that's my trouble."
"Tell me about your trouble," he says, and leads her by the hand toward the bedroom.
"Oh, Jesus, one of those. Trouble?shooters. From the look of it you're in worse shape than me, you can't even respond when somebody takes off their clothes."
"First times are hard; you need to absorb somebody a little first." He darkens the room and they lie on the bed. She offers to embrace him again, hard mouth and sharp knees anxious to have it done, but he smooths her onto her back and massages366 her breasts, plumping them up, circling. "These aren't your trouble," he croons. "These are lovely." Down below he feels himself easily stiffening367, clotting368: cream in the freezer. CLINIC FOR RUNAWAYS369 OPENED. Fathers Do Duty On Nights Off.
Relaxing, Jill grows stringy; tendons and resentments370 come to the surface. "You should be fucking my mother, she really is good with men, she thinks they're the be?all and end?all. I know she was playing around, even before Daddy died."
"Is that why you ran away?"
"You wouldn't believe if I really told you."
"Tell me."
"A guy I went with tried to get me into heavy drugs."
"That's not so unbelievable."
"Yeah, but his reason was crazy. Look, you don't want to hear this crap. You're up now, why don't you just give it to me?"
"Tell me his reason."
"You see, when I'd trip, I'd see, like, you know ? God. He never would. He just saw pieces of like old movies, that didn't add up."
"What kind of stuff did he give you? Pot?"
"Oh, no, listen, pot is just like having a Coke or something. Acid, when he could get it. Strange pills. He'd rob doctors' cars to get their samples and then mix them to see what happened. They have names for all these pills, purple hearts, dollies, I don't know what all. Then after he stole this syringe he'd inject stuff, he wouldn't even know what it was half the time, it was wild. I would never let him break my skin. I figured, anything went in by the mouth, I could throw it up, but anything went in my veins371, I had no way to get rid of it, it could kill me. He said that was part of the kick. He was really freaked, but he had this, you know, power over me. I ran."
"Has he tried to follow you?" A freak coming up the stairs. Green teeth, poisonous needles. Rabbit's penis has wilted372, listening.
"No, he's not the type. Toward the end I don't think he knew me from Adam really, all he was thinking about was his next fix. Junkies are like that. They get to be bores. You think they're talking to you or making love or whatever, and then you realize they're looking over your shoulder for the next fix. You realize you're nothing. He didn't need me to find God for him, if he met God right on the street he'd've tried to hustle171 Him for money enough for a couple bags."
"What did he look like?"
"Oh, about five?ten, brown hair down to his shoulders, slightly wavy373 when he brushed it, a neat build. Even after smack had pulled all the color from him he had a wonderful frame. His back was really marvellous, with long sloping shoulders and all these ripply374 little ribby bumps behind, you know, here." She touches him but is seeing the other. "He had been a runner in junior high."
"I meant God."
"Oh, God. He changed. He was different every time. But you always knew it was Him. Once I remember something like the inside of a big lily, only magnified a thousand times, a sort of glossy375 shining funnel376 that went down and down. I can't talk about it." She rolls over and kisses him on the mouth feverishly377. His slowness to respond seems to excite her; she gets up in a crouch and like a raccoon drinking water kisses his chin, his chest, his navel, goes down and stays. Her mouth nibbling378 is so surprising he fights the urge to laugh; her fingers on the hair of his thighs tickle87 like the threat of ice on his skin. The hair of her head makes a tent on his belly. He pushes at her but she sticks at it: he might as well relax. The ceiling. The garage light shining upwards379 shows a stained patch where chimney flashing let the rain in. Must turn the garage light off. Though maybe a good burglar preventive. These junkies around steal anything. He wonders how Nelson made out. Asleep, boy sleeps on his back, mouth open, frightening; skin seems to tighten on the bone like in pictures of Buchenwald. Always tempted380 to wake him, prove he's O.K. Missed the eleveno'clock news tonight. Vietnam death count, race riots probably somewhere. Funny man, Buchanan. No plan, exactly, just feeling his way, began by wanting to sell him Babe, maybe that's the way to live. Janice in bed got hot like something cooking but this kid stays cool, a prep?school kid applying what she knows. It works.
"That's nice," she says, stroking the extent of his extended cock, glistening with her spittle.
"You're nice," he tells her, "not to lose faith."
"I like it," she tells him, "making you get big and strong."
"Why bother?" he asks. "I'm a creep."
"Want to come into me?" the girl asks. But when she lies on her back and spreads her legs, her lack of self?consciousness again strikes him as sad, and puts him off, as does the way she winces381 when he seeks to enter; so that he grows small. Her blurred face widens its holes and says with a rising inflection, "You don't like me."
While he fumbles382 for an answer, she falls asleep. It is the answer to a question he hadn't thought to ask: was she tired? Of course, just as she was hungry. A guilty grief expands his chest muscles and presses on the backs of his eyes. He gets up, covers her with a sheet. The nights are growing cool, August covers the sun's retreat. The cold moon. Scraped wallpaper. Pumice stone under a flash bulb. Footprints stay for a billion years, not a fleck of dust blows. The kitchen linoleum384 is cold on his feet. He switches off the garage light and spreads peanut butter on six Saltines, making three sandwiches. Since Janice left, he and Nelson shop for what they like, keep themselves stocked in salt and starch385. He eats the crackers386 sitting in the living room, not in the silverthread chair but the old brown mossy one, that they've had since their marriage. He chews and stares at the uninhabited aquarium387 of the television screen. Ought to smash it, poison, he read somewhere the reason kids today are so crazy they were brought up on television, two minutes of this, two minutes of that. Cracker crumbs388 adhere to the hair of his chest. Six gray. Must be more than that. What did Janice do for Stavros she didn't do for him? Only so much you can do. Three holes, two hands. Is she happy? He hopes so. Poor mutt, he somehow squelched389 her potential. Let things bloom. The inside of a great lily. He wonders if Jesus will be waiting for Mom, a man in a nightgown at the end of a glossy chute. He hopes so. He remembers he must work tomorrow, then remembers he mustn't, it is Sunday. Sunday, that dog of a day. Ruth used to mock him and church, in those days he could get himself up for anything. Ruth and her chicken farm, wonders if she can stand it. Hopes so. He pushes himself up from the fat chair, brushes crumbs from his chest hair. Some fall and catch further down. Wonder why it was made so curly there, springy, they could stuff mattresses390 with it, if people would shave, like nuns391 and wigs392. Upstairs, the body in his bed sinks his heart like a bar of silver. He had forgotten she was on his hands. Bad knuckles. The poor kid, she stirs and tries to make love to him again, gives him a furry393?mouthed French kiss and falls asleep at it again. A day's work for a day's lodging394. Puritan ethic395. He masturbates, picturing Peggy Fosnacht. What will Nelson think?
Jill sleeps late. At quarter of ten Rabbit is rinsing396 his cereal bowl and coffee cup and Nelson is at the kitchen screen door, redfaced from pumping his bicycle. "Hey, Dad!"
"Shh."
"Why?"
"Your noise hurts my head."
"Did you get drunk last night?"
"What sort of talk is that? I never get drunk."
"Mrs. Fosnacht cried after you left."
"Probably because you and Billy are such brats397."
"She said you were going to meet somebody in Brewer."
She shouldn't be telling kids things like that. These divorced women, turn their sons into little husbands: cry, shit, and change Tampax right in front of them. "Some guy I work with at Verity. We listened to some colored woman play the piano and then I came home."
"We stayed up past twelve o'clock watching a wicked neat movie about guys landing somewhere in boats that open up in front, some place like Norway -"
"Normandy."
"That's right. Were you there?"
"No, I was your age when it happened."
"You could see the machine gun bullets making the water splash up all in a row, it was a blast."
"Hey, try to keep your voice down."
"Why, Dad? Is Mommy back? Is she?"
"No. Have you had any breakfast?"
"Yeah, she gave us bacon and French toast. I learned how to make it, it's easy, you just smash some eggs and take bread and fry it, I'll make you some sometime."
"Thanks. My mother used to make it."
"I hate her cooking. Everything tastes greasy398. Didn't you used to hate her cooking, Dad?"
"I liked it. It was the only cooking I knew."
"Billy Fosnacht says she's dying, is she?"
"She has a disease. But it's very slow. You've seen how she is. She may get better. They have new things for it all the time."
"I hope she does die, Dad."
"No you don't. Don't say that."
"Mrs. Fosnacht tells Billy you should say everything you feel."
"I'm sure she tells him a lot of crap."
"Why do you say crap? I think she's nice, once you get used to her eyes. Don't you like her, Dad? She thinks you don't."
"Peggy's O.K. What's on your schedule? When was the last time you went to Sunday school?"
The boy circles around to place himself in his father's view. "There's a reason I rushed home. Mr. Fosnacht is going to take Billy fishing on the river in a boat some guy he knows owns and Billy asked if I could come along and I said I'd have to ask you. O.K., Dad? I had to come home anyway to get a bathing suit and clean pants, that fucking mini?bike got these all greasy."
All around him, Rabbit hears language collapsing399. He says weakly, "I didn't know there was fishing in the river."
"They've cleaned it up, Ollie says. At least above Brewer. He says they stock it with trout400 up around Eifert's Island."
Ollie, is it? "That's hours from here. You've never fished. Remember how bored you were with the ball game we took you to."
"That was a boring game, Dad. Other people were playing it. This is something you do yourself. Huh, Dad? O.K.? I got to get my bathing suit and I said I'd be back on the bicycle by ten?thirty." The kid is at the foot of the stairs: stop him.
Rabbit calls, "What am I going to do all day, if you go off?"
"You can go visit Mom?mom. She'd rather see just you anyway." The boy takes it that he has secured permission, and pounds upstairs. His scream from the landing freezes his father's stomach. Rabbit moves to the foot of the stairs to receive Nelson in his arms. But the boy, safe on the next?to?bottom step, halts there horrified401. "Dad, something moved in your bed!"
"My bed?"
"I looked in and saw it!"
Rabbit offers, "Maybe it was just the air?conditioner fan lifting the sheets."
"Dad." The child's pallor begins to recede as some flaw in the horror of this begins to dawn. "It had long hair, and I saw an arm. Aren't you going to call the police?"
"No, let's let the poor old police rest, it's Sunday. It's O.K., Nelson, I know who it is."
"You do?" The boy's eyes sink upon themselves defensively as his brain assembles what information he has about long?haired creatures in bed. He is trying to relate this contraption of half?facts to the figure of his father looming402, a huge riddle403 in an undershirt, before him. Rabbit offers, "It's a girl who's run away from home and I somehow got stuck with her last night."
"Is she going to live here?"
"Not ifyou don't want me to," Jill's voice composedly calls from the stairs. She has come down wrapped in a sheet. Sleep has made her more substantial, her eyes are fresh wet grass now. She says to the boy, "I'm Jill. You're Nelson. Your father told me all about you."
She advances toward him in her sheet like a little Roman senator, her hair tucked under behind, her forehead shining. Nelson stands his ground. Rabbit is struck to see that they are nearly the same height. "Hi," the kid says. "He did?"
"Oh, yes," Jill goes on, showing her class, becoming no doubt her own mother, a woman pouring out polite talk in an unfamiliar404 home, flattering vases, curtains. "You are very much on his mind. You're very fortunate, to have such a loving father."
The kid looks over with parted lips. Christmas morning. He doesn't know what it is, but he wants to like it, before it's unwrapped.
Tucking her sheet about her tighter, Jill moves them into the kitchen, towing Nelson along on the thread of her voice. "You're lucky, you're going on a boat. I love boats. Back home we had a twenty?two?foot sloop405."
"What's a sloop?"
"It's a sailboat with one mast."
"Some have more?"
"Of course. Schooners406 and yawls. A schooner407 has the big mast behind, a yawl has the big one up front. We had a yawl once but it was too much work, you needed another man really."
"You used to sail?"
"All summer until October. Not only that. In the spring we all used to have to scrape it and caulk408 it and paint it. I liked that almost the best, we all used to work at it together, my parents and me and my brothers."
"How many brothers did you have?"
"Three. The middle one was about your age. Thirteen?"
He nods. "Almost".
"He was my favorite. Is my favorite."
A bird outside hoarsely409 scolds in sudden agitation410. Cat? The refrigerator purrs.
Nelson abruptly411 volunteers, "I had a sister once but she died."
"What was her name?"
His father has to answer for him. "Rebecca."
Still Jill doesn't look toward him, but concentrates on the boy. "May I eat breakfast, Nelson?"
"Sure."
"I don't want to take the last of your favorite breakfast cereal or anything."
"You won't. I'll show you where we keep them. Don't take the Rice Krispies, they're a thousand years old and taste like floor fluff. The Raisin412 Bran and Alphabits are O.K., we bought them this week at the Acme."
"Who does the shopping, you or your father?"
"Oh ? we share. I meet him on Pine Street after work sometimes."
"When do you see your mother?"
"A lot of times. Weekends sometimes I stay over in Charlie Stavros's apartment. He has a real gun in his bureau. It's O.K., he has a license413. I can't go over there this weekend because they've gone to the Shore."
"Where's the shore?"
Delight that she is so dumb creases414 the corners of Nelson's mouth. "In New Jersey415. Everybody calls it just the Shore. We used to go to Wildwood sometimes but Dad hated the traffic too much."
"That's one thing I miss," Jill says, "the smell of the sea. Where I grew up, the town is on a peninsula, with sea on three sides."
"Hey, shall I make you some French toast? I just learned how."
Jealousy416, perhaps, makes Rabbit impatient with this scene: his son in spite of his smallness bony and dominating and alert, Jill in her sheet looking like one of those cartoon figures, justice or Liberty or Mourning Peace. He goes outside to bring in the Sunday Triumph, sits reading the funnies in the sunshine on the porchlet steps until the bugs418 get too bad, comes back into the living room and reads at random419 about the Egyptians, the Phillies, the Onassises. From the kitchen comes sizzling and giggling420 and whispering. He is in the Garden Section (Scorn not the modest goldenrod, dock, and tansy that grow in carefree profusion421 in fields and roadside throughout these August days; carefully dried and arranged, they will form attractive bouquets422 to brighten the winter months around the corner) when the kid comes in with milk on his mustache and, wideeyed, pressingly, with a new kind of energy, asks, "Hey Dad, can she come along on the boat? I've called up Billy and he says his father won't mind, only we have to hurry up. You can come too."
"Maybe I mind."
"Dad. Don't." And Harry reads his son's taut423 face to mean, She can hear. She's all alone. We must be nice to her, we must be nice to the poor, the weak, the black. Love is here to stay.
Monday, Rabbit is setting the Vat front page. WIDOW, SIXTY?SEVEN, RAPED383 AND ROBBED. Three Black Youths Held.
Police authorities revealed Saturday that they are holding for questioning two black minors424 and Wendell Phillips, 19, of 42B Plum Street, in connection with the brutal425 assault of an unidentified sywsfyz kmlhs the brutal assault of an unidentified elderly white woman late Thursday night.
The conscienceless crime, the latest in a series of similar incidents in the Third Ward54, aroused residents of the neighborhood to organize a committee of protest which appeared before Friday's City Council session.
Nobody Safe
"Nobody's safe on the st
"Nobody's safe on the streets any more," said committee spokesman Bernard Vogel to VAT reporters.
"Nobody's safe not even in our own homes."
Through the clatter80 Harry feels a tap on his shoulder and looks around. Pajasek, looking worried. "Angstrom, telephone."
"Who the hell?" He feels obliged to say this, as apology for being called at work, on Verity time.
"A woman," Pajasek says, not placated426.
Who? Jill (last night her hair still damp from the boat ride tickled his belly as she managed to make him come) was in trouble. They had kidnapped her ?the police, the blacks. Or Peggy Fosnacht was calling up to offer supper again. Or his mother had taken a turn for the worse and with her last heartbeats had dialled this number. He is not surprised she would want to speak to him instead of his father, he has never doubted she loves him most. The phone is in Pajasek's little office, three walls of frosted glass, on the desk with the parts catalogues (these old Mergenthalers are always breaking down) and the spindled dead copy. "Hello?"
"Hi, sweetie. Guess who."
` Janice. How was the Shore?"
"Crowded and muggy. How was it here?"
"Pretty good."
"So I hear. I hear you went out in a boat."
"Yeah, it was the kid's idea, he got me invited by Ollie. We went up the river as far as Eifert's Island. We didn't catch much, the state put some trout in but I guess the river's still too full of coal silt427. My nose is so sunburned I can't touch it."
"I hear you had a lot of people in the boat."
"Nine or so. Ollie runs around with this musical crowd. We had a picnic up at the old camp meeting ground, near Stogey's Quarry428, you know, where that witch lived so many years. Ollie's friends all got out guitars and played. It was nice."
"I hear you brought a guest too."
"Who'd you hear that from?"
"Peggy told me. Billy told her. He was all turned?on about it, he said Nelson brought a girlfriend."
"Beats a mini?bike, huh?"
"Harry, I don't find this amusing. Where did you find this girl?"
"Uh, she's a go?go dancer in here at the shop. For the lunch hour. The union demands it."
"Mere139, Harry?"
Her weary dismissive insistence429 pleases him. She is growing in confidence, like a child at school. He confesses, "I sort of picked her up in a bar."
"Well. That's being honest. How long is she going to stay?"
"I haven't asked. These kids don't make plans the way we used to, they aren't so scared of starving. Hey, I got to get back to the machine. Pajasek doesn't like our being called here, by the way."
"I don't intend to make a practice of it. I called you at work because I didn't want Nelson to overhear. Harry, now are you listening to me?"
"Sure, to who else?"
"I want that girl out of my home. I don't want Nelson exposed to this sort of thing."
"What sort of thing? You mean the you and Stavros sort of thing?"
"Charlie is a mature man. He has lots of nieces and nephews so he's very understanding with Nelson. This girl sounds like a little animal out of her head with dope."
"That's how Billy described her?"
"After she talked to Billy Peggy called up Ollie for a better description."
"And that was his description. Gee. They got along famously at the time. She was better?looking than those two old crows Ollie had along, I tell ya."
"Harry, you're horrible. I consider this a very negative development. I suppose I have no right to say anything about how you dispose ofyour sexual needs, but I will not have my son corrupted430."
"He's not corrupted, she's got him to help with the dishes, that's more than we could ever do. She's like a sister to him."
"And what is she to you, Harry?" When he is slow to answer, she repeats, her voice taunting431, aching, like her mother's, "Harry, what is she to you? A little wifey?"
He thinks and tells her, "Come on back to the house, I'm sure she'll go."
Now Janice thinks. Finally she states: "If I come back to the house, it'll be to take Nelson away."
"Try it," he says, and hangs up.
He sits a minute in Pajasek's chair to give the phone a chance to ring. It does. He picks it up. "Yeah?"
Janice says, near tears, "Harry, I don't like to tell you this, but if you'd been adequate I would never have left. You drove me to it. I didn't know what I was missing but now that I have it I know. I refuse to accept all the blame, I really do."
"O.K. No blame assigned. Let's keep in touch."
"I want that girl away from my son."
"They're getting along fine, relax."
"I'll sue you. I'll take you to court."
"Fine. After the stunts432 you've been pulling, it'll at least give the judge a laugh."
"That's my house legally. At least half of it is."
"Tell me which my half is, and l'll try to keep Jill in it."
Janice hangs up. Maybe using Jill's name had hurt. He doesn't wait for another ring this time, and leaves the cubicle433 of frosted glass. The trembling in his hands, which feel frightened and inflated434, merges435 with the clatter of the machines; his body sweat is lost in the smell of oil and ink. He resettles himself at his Mergenthaler and garbles436 three lines before he can put her phone call in the back of his mind. He supposes Stavros can get her legal advice. But, far from feeling Stavros as one of the enemy camp, he counts on him to keep this madwoman, his wife, under control. Through her body, they have become brothers.
Jill through the succession of nights adjusts Rabbit's body to hers. He cannot overcome his fear of using her body as a woman's her cunt stings, is part of it; he never forces his way into her without remembering those razor blades ?but she, beginning the damp?haired night after the boat ride, perfects ways with her fingers and mouth to bring him off. Small curdled438 puddles439 of his semen then appear on her skin, and though easily wiped away leave in his imagination a mark like an acid?bum94 on her shoulders, her throat, the small of her back; he has the vision of her entire slender fair flexible body being eventually covered with these invisible burns, like a napalmed child in the newspapers. And he, on his side, attempting with hands or mouth to reciprocate440, is politely dissuaded441, pushed away, reassured442 she has already come, serving him, or merely asked for the mute pressure of a thigh248 between hers and, after some few minutes during which he can detect no spasm443 of relief, thanked. The August nights are sticky and close; when they lie on their backs the ceiling of heavy air seems a foot above their faces. A car, loud on the soft tar and loose gravel, slides by. A mile away across the river a police siren bleats444, a new sound, more frantic277 than the old rising and falling cry. Nelson turns on a light, makes water, flushes the toilet, turns out the light with a snap close to their ears. Had he been listening? Could he even be watching? Jill's breath saws in her throat. She is asleep.
He finds her when he comes back from work sitting and reading, sitting and sewing, sitting and playing Monopoly with Nelson. Her books are spooky: yoga, psychiatry445, zen, plucked from racks at the Acme. Except to shop, she reluctantly goes outdoors, even at night. It is not so much that the police of several states are looking for her ? they are looking as well for thousands like her ? as that the light of common day, and the sights and streets that have been the food of Rabbit's life, seem to nauseate447 her. They rarely watch television, since she leaves the room when they turn the set on, though when she's in the kitchen he sometimes sneaks448 himself a dose of six?o'clock news. Instead, in the evenings, she and Nelson discuss God, beauty, meaning.
"Whatever men make," she says, "what they felt when they made it is there. If it was made to make money, it will smell of money. That's why these houses are so ugly, all the corners they cut to make a profit are still in them. That's why the cathedrals are so lovely; nobles and ladies in velvet449 and ermine dragged the stones up the ramps451. Think of a painter. He stands in front of the canvas with a color on his brush. Whatever he feels when he makes the mark ?if he's tired or bored or happy and proud ? will be there. The same color, but we'll feel it. Like fingerprints452. Like handwriting. Man is a means for turning things into spirit and turning spirit into things."
"What's the point?" Nelson asks.
"The point is ecstasy," she says. "Energy. Anything that is good is in ecstasy. The world is what God made and it doesn't stink453 of money, it's never tired, too much or too little, it's always exactly full. The second after an earthquake, the stones are calm. Everywhere is play, even in thunder or an avalanche454. Out on my father's boat I used to look up at the stars and there seemed to be invisible strings between them, tuned455 absolutely right, playing thousands of notes I could almost hear."
"Why can't we hear them?" Nelson asks.
"Because our egos456 make us deaf. Our egos make us blind. Whenever we think about ourselves, it's like putting a piece of dirt in our eye."
"There's that thing in the Bible."
"That's what He meant. Without our egos the universe would be absolutely clean, all the animals and rocks and spiders and moon?rocks and stars and grains of sand absolutely doing their thing, unself?consciously. The only consciousness would be God's. Think of it, Nelson, like this: matter is the mirror of spirit. But it's three?dimensional, like an enormous room, a ballroom457. And inside it are these tiny other mirrors tilted458 this way and that and throwing the light back the wrong way. Because to the big face looking in, these little mirrors are just dark spots, where He can't see Himself."
Rabbit is entranced to hear her going on like this. Her voice, laconic459 and dry normally, moves through her sentences as through a memorized recitation, pitched low, an underground murmur. She and Nelson are sitting on the floor with the Monopoly board between them, houses and hotels and money, the game has been going on for days. Neither gives any sign of knowing he has come into the room and is towering above them. Rabbit asks, "Why ?doesn't He just do away with the spots then? I take it the spots are us."
Jill looks up, her face blank as a mirror in this instant. Remembering last night, he expects her to look burned around the mouth; it had been like filling a slippery narrow?mouthed pitcher460 from an uncontrollable faucet. She answers, "I'm not sure He's noticed us yet. The cosmos461 is so large and our portion of it so small. So small and recent."
"Maybe we'll do the erasing462 ourselves," Rabbit offers helpfiilly. He wants to help, to hold his end up. Never too late for education. With Janice and old man Springer you could never have this kind of conversation.
"There is that death?wish," Jill concedes.
Nelson will talk only to her. "Do you believe in life on other planets? I don't."
"Why Nelson, how ungenerous of you! Why not?"
"I don't know, it's silly to say -"
"Say it."
"I was thinking, if there was life on other planets, they would have killed our moon men when they stepped out of the space ship. But they didn't, so there isn't."
"Don't be dumb," Rabbit says. "The moon is right down our block. We're talking about life in systems millions of light years away."
"No, I think the moon was a good test," Jill says. "If nobody bothered to defend it, it proves how little God is content with. Miles and miles of gray dust."
Nelson says, "One guy at school I know says there's people on the moon but they're smaller than atoms, so even when they grind the rocks up they won't find them. He says they have whole cities and everything. We breathe them in through our nostrils463 and they make us think we see flying saucers. That's what this one guy says."
"I myself," Rabbit says, still offering, drawing upon an old Vat feature article he set, "have some hopes for the inside of Jupiter. It's gas, you know, the surface we see. A couple of thousand miles down inside the skin there might be a mix of chemicals that could support a kind of life, something like fish."
"It's your Puritan fear of waste makes you want that," Jill tells him. "You think the other planets must be used for something, must be farmed. Why? Maybe the planets were put there just to teach men how to count up to seven."
"Why not just give us seven toes on each foot?"
"A kid at school," Nelson volunteers, "was born with an extra finger. The doctor cut it off but you can still see where it was."
"Also," Jill says, "astronomy. Without the planets the night sky would have been one rigid thing, and we would never have guessed at the third dimension."
"Pretty thoughtful of God," Rabbit says, "if we're just some specks464 in His mirror."
Jill waves his point away blithely465. "He does everything," she says, "by the way. Not because it's what He has to do."
She can be blithe466. After he told her once she ought to go outdoors more, she went out and sunbathed467 in just her bikini underpants, on a blanket beside the barbecue, in the view of a dozen other houses. When a neighbor called up to complain, Jill justified herself, "My tits are so small, I thought they'd think I was a boy." Then after Harry began giving her thirty dollars a week to shop with, she went and redeemed468 her Porsche from the police. Its garage parking fees had quadrupled the original fine. She gave her address as Vista Crescent and said she was staying the summer with her uncle. "It's a nuisance," she told Rabbit, "but Nelson ought to have a car around, at his age, it's too humiliating not to. Everybody in America has a car except you." So the Porsche came to live by their curb. Its white is dusty and the passenger?side front fender is scraped and one convertible469 top snap is broken. Nelson loves it so much he nearly cries, finding it there each morning. He washes it. He reads the manual and rotates the tires. That crystalline week before school begins, Jill takes him for drives out into the country, into the farmland and the mountains of Brewer County; she is teaching him how to drive.
Some days they return after Rabbit is home an hour from work. "Dad, it was a blast. We drove way up into this mountain that's a hawk470 refuge and Jill let me take the wheel on the twisty road coming down, all the way to the highway. Have you ever heard of shifting down?"
"I do it all the time."
"It's when you go into a lower gear instead of braking. It feels neat. Jill's Porsche has about five gears and you can really zoom471 around curves because the center of gravity is so low."
Rabbit asks Jill, "You sure you're handling this right? The kid might kill somebody. I don't want to be sued."
"He's very competent. And responsible. He must get that from you. I used to stay in the driver's seat and let him just steer472 but that's more dangerous than giving him control. The mountain was really quite deserted."
"Except for hawks473, Dad. They sit on all these pine trees waiting for the guys to put out whole carcasses of cows and things. It's really grungy."
"Well," Rabbit says, "hawks got to live too."
"That's what I keep telling him," Jill says. "God is in the tiger as well as in the lamb."
"Yeah. God really likes to chew himself up."
"You know what you are?" Jill asks, her eyes the green of a meadow, her hair a finespun cedar?colored tangle326 dissolving into windowlight; a captured idea is fluttering in her head. "You are cynical474."
`Just middle?aged. Somebody came up to me and said, `I'm God,' I'd say, `Show me your badge.' "
Jill dances forward, on fire with some fun and wickedness the day has left in her, and gives him a hug that dances off, a butterfly hug. "I think you're beautiful. Nelson and I both think so. We often talk about it."
"You do? That's the only thing you can think of to do, talk about me?" He means to be funny, to keep her mood alive, but her face stops, hovers475 a second; and Nelson's tells him he has struck on something. What they do. In that little car. Well, they don't need much space, much contact: young bodies. The kid's faint mustache, black hairs; her cedar mane. Bodies not sodden476 yet like his. At that keen age the merest touch. Their brother?sister shyness, touching hands in the flicker477 of wet glass at the sink. If she'd offer to lay hairy old heavy him the first night, what wouldn't she do to bring the kid along; somebody has to. Why not? Chief question facing these troubled times. Why not.
Though he doesn't pursue this guilt he has startled from her, that night he does make her take him squarely, socks it into her, though she offers her mouth and her cunt is so tight it sears. She is frightened when he doesn't lose his hardness; he makes her sit up on him and pulls her satin hips down, the pelvis bones starved, and she sucks in breath sharply and out of pained astonishment478 pitched like delight utters, "You're wombing me!" He tries to picture it. A rosy479?black floor in her somewhere, never knows where he is, in among kidneys, intestines480, liver. His child bride with flesh?colored hair and cloudy innards floats upon him, stings him, sucks him up like a cloud, falls, forgives him. His love of her coats him with distaste and confusion, so that he quickly sleeps, only his first dreams jostled when she gets from bed to go wash, check on Nelson, talk to God, take a pill, whatever else she needs to do to heal the wound where his seared cock was. How sad, how strange. We make companions out of air and hurt them, so they will defy us, completing creation.
Harry's father sidles up to him at the coffee break. "How's every little thing, Harry?"
"Not bad."
"I hate like hell to nag22 like this, you're a grown man with your own miseries481, I know that, but I'd be appreciative482 as hell if you'd come over some evenings and talk to your mother. She hears all sorts of malicious483 folderol about you and Janice now, and it would help settle her down if you could put her straight. We're no moralists, Harry, you know that; your mother and I tried to live by our own lights and to raise the two children God was good enough to give us by those same lights, but I know damn well it's a different world now, so we're no moralists, me and Mary."
"How is her health, generally?"
"Well, that's another of these problematical things, Harry. They've gone ahead and put her on this new miracle drug, they have some name for it I can never remember, L?dopa, that's right, L?dopa, it's still in the experimental stage I guess, but there's no doubt in a lot of cases it works wonders. Trouble is, also it has these side effects they don't know too much about, depression in your mother's case, some nausea446 and lack of appetite; and nightmares, Harry, nightmares that wake her up and she wakes me up so I can hear her heart beating, beating like a tom?tom. I never heard that before, Harry, another person's heart in the room as clear as footsteps, but that's what these L?dopa dreams do for her. But there's no doubt, her talk comes easier, and her hands don't shake that way they have so much. It's hard to know what's right, Harry. Sometimes you think, Let Nature take its course, but then you wonder, What's Nature and what isn't? Another side effect" ? he draws closer, glancing around and then glancing down as his coffee slops in the paper cup and burns his fingers ? "I shouldn't mention it but it tickles me, your mother says this new stuff she's taking, whatever you call it, makes her feel, how shall I say?" ? he glances around again, then confides484 to his son ?"lovey?dovey. Here she is, just turned sixty?five, lying in bed half the day, and gets these impulses so bad she says she can hardly stand it, she says she won't watch television, the commercials make it worse. She says she has to laugh at herself. Now isn't that a helluva thing? A good woman like that. I'm sorry to talk your ear off I live alone with it too much, I suppose, what with Mim on the other side of the country. Christ knows it isn't as if you don't have your problems too."
"I don't have any problems," Rabbit tells him. "Right now I'm just holding my breath to when the kid gets back into school. His state of mind's pretty well stabilized485, I'd say. One of the reasons, you know, I don't make it over to Mt. Judge as often as I should, Mom was pretty rough on Nelson when he was little and the kid is still scared of her. On the other hand I don't like to leave him alone in the house, with all these robberies and assaults all over the county, they come out into the suburbs and steal anything they can get their hands on. I was just setting an item, some woman over in Perley Township, they stole her vacuum cleaner and a hundred feet of garden hose while she was upstairs going to the bathroom."
"It's these God, damn, blacks, is what it is." Earl Angstrom lowers his voice so it turns husky, though Buchanan and Farnsworth always take their coffee break outside in the alley53, with Boonie and the other drinkers. "I've always called'em black and they call themselves blacks now and that suits me fine. They can't do a white man's job, except for a few, and take even Buck, he's never made head of makeup486 though he's been here the longest; so they have to rob and kill, the ones that can't be pimps and prizefighters. They can't cut the mustard and never could. This country should have taken whosever advice it was, George Washington if memory serves, one of the founding fathers, and shipped 'em all back to Africa when we had a chance. Now, Africa wouldn't take 'em. Booze and Cadillacs and white pussy, if you'll pardon my saying so, have spoiled 'em rotten. They're the garbage of the world, Harry. American Negroes are the lowest of the low. They steal and then they have the nerve to say the country owes it to 'em."
"O.K., O.K." To see his father passionate487 about anything disagrees with Rabbit. He shifts to the most sobering subject they have between them: "Does she mention me much? Mom."
The old man licks spittle from his lips, sighs, slumps488 confidingly489 lower, glancing down at the cooled scummed coffee in his hands. "All the time, Harry, every minute of the day. They tell her things about you and she raves490 against the Springers; oh, how she carries on about that family, especially the women of it. Apparently491, the Mrs. is saying you've taken up with a hippie teenager, that's what drove Janice out of the house in the first place."
"No, Janice went first. I keep inviting492 her back."
"Well, whatever the actualities of the case are, I know you're trying to do the right thing. I'm no moralist, Harry, I know you young people nowadays have more tensions and psychological pressures than a man my age could tolerate. If I'd of had the atomic bomb and these rich?kid revolutionaries to worry about, I'd no doubt just have put a shotgun to my head and let the world roll on without me."
"I'll try to get over. I ought to talk to her," Rabbit says. He looks past his father's shoulder to where the yellow?faced wall clock jumps to within a minute of 11:10, the end of the coffee break. He knows that in all this rolling?on world his mother is the only person who knows him. He remembers from the night we touched the moon the nudge delivered out of her dying, but doesn't want to open himself to her until he understands what is happening inside him enough to protect it. She has something happening to her, death and L?dopa, and he has something happening to him, Jill. The girl has been living with them three weeks and is learning to keep house and to give him a wry493 silent look saying I know you when he offers to argue about Communism or kids today or any of the other sore spots where he feels rot beginning and black madness creeping in. A little wry green look that began the night he hurt her upwards and touched her womb.
His father is more with him than he suspects, for the old man draws still closer and says, "One thing it's been on my mind to say, Harry, forgive me talking out of turn, but I hope you're taking all the precautions, knock up one of these minors, the law takes a very dim view. Also, they say they're dirty as weasels and giving everybody the clap." Absurdly, as the clock ticks the last minute and the end?of?break bell rasps, the old man claps.
In his clean crisp after?work shirt he opens the front door of the apple?green house and hears guitar music from above. Guitar chords slowly plucked, and two high small voices moving through a melody. He is drawn upstairs. In Nelson's room, the two are sitting on the bed, Jill up by the pillows in a yoga position that displays the crotch of her black lace underpants. A guitar is cradled across her thighs. Rabbit has never seen the guitar before; it looks new. The pale wood shines like a woman oiled after a bath. Nelson sits beside Jill in Jockey shorts and T?shirt, craning his neck to read from the sheet of music on the bedspread by her ankles. The boy's legs, dangling494 to the floor, look suddenly sinewy495, long, beginning to be shaded with Janice's dark hair, and Rabbit notices that the old posters of Brooks496 Robinson and Orlando Cepeda and Steve McQueen on a motorcycle have been removed from the boy's walls. Paint has flaked497 where the Scotch498 tape was. They are singing, ". . . must a man wa?alk down"; the delicate thread breaks when he enters, though they must have heard his footsteps on the stairs as warning. The kid's being in his underclothes is O.K.: far from dirty as a weasel, Jill has gotten Nelson to take a shower once a day, before his father's homecoming, perhaps because her own father came home to Stonington only on Fridays and deserved a ceremony.
"Hey, Dad," Nelson says, "this is neat. We're singing harmony." "Where did you get the guitar?"
"We hustled."
Jill nudges the boy with a bare foot, but not quick enough to halt the remark.
Rabbit asks him, "How do you hustle?"
"We stood on streetcorners in Brewer, mostly at Weiser and Seventh, but then we moved over to Cameron when a pig car slowed down to look us over. It was a gas, Dad. Jill would stop these people and tell 'em I was her brother, our mother was dying of cancer and our father had lit out, and we had a baby brother at home. Sometimes she said a baby sister. Some of the people said we should apply to welfare, but enough gave us a dollar or so so finally we had the twenty dollars Ollie promised was all he'd charge us for a forty?four dollar guitar. And he threw in the music free after Jill talked to him in the back room."
"Wasn't that nice of Ollie?"
"Harry, it really was. Don't look like that."
He says to Nelson, "I wonder what they talked about."
"Dad, there was nothing dishonest about it, these people we stopped felt better afterwards, for having got us off their conscience. Anyway, Dad, in a society where power was all to the people money wouldn't exist anyway, you'd just be given what you need."
"Well hell, that's the way your life is now."
"Yeah, but I have to beg for everything, don't I? And I never did get a mini?bike."
"Nelson, you get some clothes on and stay in your room. I want to talk to Jill a second."
"If you hurt her, l'll kill you."
"If you don't shut up, l'll make you live with Mommy and Charlie Stavros."
In their bedroom, Rabbit carefully closes the door and in a soft shaking voice tells Jill, "You're turning my kid into a beggar and a whore just like yourself," and, after waiting a second for her to enter a rebuttal, slaps her thin disdainful face with its prim lips and its green eyes drenched so dark in defiance499 their shade is as of tree leaves, a shufing concealing500 multitude, a microscopic501 forest he wants to bomb. His slap feels like slapping plastic: stings his fingers, does no good. He slaps her again, gathers the dry flesh of her hair into his hand to hold her face steady, feels cold fury when she buckles502 and tries to slither away but, after a fist to the side of her neck, lets her drop onto the bed.
Still shielding her face, Jill hisses503 up at him, strangely hisses out of her little spaced inturned teeth, until her first words come. They are calm and superior. "You know why you did that, you just wanted to hurt me, that's why. You just wanted to have that kick. You don't give a shit about me and Nelson hustling. What do you care about who begs and who doesn't, who steals and who doesn't?"
A blankness in him answers when she asks; but she goes on. "What have the pig laws ever done for you except screw you into a greasy job and turn you into such a gutless creep you can't even keep your idiotic504 wife?"
He takes her wrist. It is fragile. Chalk. He wants to break it, to feel it snap; he wants to hold her absolutely quiet in his arms for the months while it will heal. "Listen. I earn my money one fucking dollar at a time and you're living on it and if you want to go back bumming505 off your nigger friends, go. Get out. Leave me and my kid alone."
"You creep," she says, "you baby?killing creep."
"Put another record on," he says. "You sick bitch. You rich kids playing at life make me sick, throwing rocks at the poor dumb cops protecting your daddy's loot. You're just playing, baby. You think you're playing a great game of happy cunt but let me tell you something. My poor dumb mutt of a wife throws a better piece of ass backwards than you can manage frontwards."
"Backwards is right, she can't stand facing you."
He squeezes her chalk wrist tighter, telling her, "You have no juice, baby. You're all sucked out and you're just eighteen. You've tried everything and you're not scared of nothing and you wonder why it's all so dead. You've had it handed to you, sweet baby, that's why it's so dead. Fucking Christ you think you're going to make the world over you don't have a fucking clue what makes people run. Fear. That's what makes us poor bastards506 run. You don't know what fear is, do you, poor baby? That's why you're so dead." He squeezes her wrist until he can picture the linked curved bones in it bending ghostly as in an X ray; and her eyes widen a fraction, a hairspace of alarm he can see only because he is putting it there.
She tugs508 her wrist free and rubs it, not lowering her eyes from his. "People've run on fear long enough," Jill says. "Let's try love for a change."
"Then you better find yourself another universe. The moon is cold, baby. Cold and ugly. If you don't want it, the Commies do. They're not so fucking proud."
"What's that noise?"
It is Nelson crying, outside the door, afraid to come in. It had been the same way with him and Janice, their fights: just when they were getting something out of them, the kid would beg them to stop. Maybe he imagined that Becky had been killed in just such a quarrel, that this one would kill him. Rabbit lets him in and explains, "We were talking politics."
Nelson squeezes out in the spaces between his sobs509. "Daddy, why do you disagree with everybody?"
"Because I love my country and can't stand to have it knocked."
"If you loved it you'd want it better," Jill says.
"If it was better I'd have to be better," he says seriously, and they all laugh, he last.
Thus, through lame252 laughter ? she still rubs her wrists, the hand he hit her with begins to hurt ? they seek to reconstitute their family. For supper Jill cooks a filet510 of sole, lemony, light, simmered in sunshine, skin flaky brown; Nelson gets a hamburger with wheatgerm sprinkled on it to remind him of a Nutburger. Wheatgerm, zucchini, water chestnuts511, celery salt, Familia: these are some of the exotic items Jill's shopping brings into the house. Her cooking tastes to him of things he never had: candlelight, saltwater, health fads512, wealth, class. Jill's family had a servant, and it takes her some nights to understand that dirtied dishes do not clear and clean themselves by magic, but have to be carried and washed. Rabbit, still, Saturday mornings, is the one to vacuum the rooms, to bundle his shirts and the sheets for the laundry, to sort out Nelson's socks and underwear for the washer in the basement. He can see, what these children cannot, dust accumulate, deterioration513 advance, chaos514 seep515 in, time conquer. But for her cooking he is willing to be her servant, part?time. Her cooking has renewed his taste for life. They have wine now with supper, a California white in a half?gallon jug516. And always a salad: salad in Diamond County cuisine517 tends to be a brother of sauerkraut, fat with creamy dressing518, but Jill's hands serve lettuce519 in an oily film invisible as health. Where Janice would for dessert offer some doughy520 goodie from the Half?A?Loaf, Jill concocts521 designs of fruit. And her coffee is black nectar compared to the watery522 tar Janice used to serve. Contentment makes Harry motionless; he watches the dishes be skimmed from the table, and resettles expansively in the living room. When the dishwashing machine is fed and chugging contentedly523, Jill comes into the living room, sits on the tacky carpet, and plays the guitar. What does she play? "Farewell, Angelina, the sky is on fire," and a few others she can get through a stanza524 of. She has maybe six chords. Her fingers on the frets525 often tighten on strands526 of her hanging hair; it must hurt. Her voice is a thin instrument that quickly cracks. "All my tri?als, Lord, soon be o?over," she sings, quitting, looking up for applause.
Nelson applauds. Small hands.
"Great," Rabbit tells her and, mellow527 on wine, goes on, in apology for his life, "No kidding, I once took that inner light trip and all I did was bruise528 my surroundings. Revolution, or whatever, is just a way of saying a mess is fun. Well, it is fun, for a while, as long as somebody else has laid in the supplies. A mess is a luxury, is all I mean."
Jill has been strumming for him, between sentences, part helping him along, part poking529 fun. He turns on her. "Now you tell us something. You tell us the story of your life."
"I've had no life," she says, and strums. "No man's daughter, and no man's wife."
"Tell us a story," Nelson begs. From the way she laughs, showing her roundish teeth and letting her thin cheeks go dimply, they see she will comply.
"This is the story of Jill and her lover who was ill," she announces, and releases a chord. It's as if, Rabbit thinks, studying the woman?shape of the guitar, the notes are in there already, waiting to fly from the dovecote of that round hole. "Now Jill," Jill goes on, "was a comely530 lass, raised in the bosom531 of the middle class. Her dad and mother each owned a car, and on the hood116 of one was a Mercedes star. I don't know how much longer I can go on rhyming." She strums quizzically.
"Don't try it," Rabbit advises.
"Her upbringing" ? emphasis on the "ging" ? "was orthodox enough ? sailing and dancing classes and francais and all that stuff."
"Keep rhyming, Jill," Nelson begs.
"Menstruation set in at age fourteen, but even with her braces532 off Jill was no queen. Her knowledge of boys was confined to boys who played tennis and whose parents with her parents dined. Which suited her perfectly533 well, since having observed her parents drinking and chatting and getting and spending she was in no great hurry to become old and fat and swell. Ooh, that was a stretch."
"Don't rhyme on my account," Rabbit says. "I'm getting a beer, anybody else want one?"
Nelson calls, "I'll share yours, Dad."
"Get your own. I'll get it for you."
Jill strums to reclaim534 their attention. "Well, to make a boring story short, one summer" ? she searches ahead for a rhyme, then adds, "after her daddy died."
"Uh?oh," Rabbit says, tiptoeing back with two beers.
"She met a boy who became her psycho?physical guide."
Rabbit pulls his tab and tries to hush the pff.
"His name was Freddy -"
He sees there is nothing to do but yank it, which he does so quickly the beer foams535 through the keyhole.
"And the nicest thing about him was that she was ready." Strum. "He had nice brown shoulders from being a lifeguard, and his bathing suit held something sometimes soft and sometimes hard. He came from far away, from romantic Rhode Island across Narragansett Bay."
"Hey," Rabbit olés.
"The only bad thing was, inside, the nice brown lifeguard had already died. Inside there was an old man with a dreadful need, for pot and hash and LSD and speed." Now her strumming takes a different rhythm, breaking into the middle on the offbeat536.
"He was a born loser, though his race was white, and he fucked sweet virgin537 Jill throughout one sandy night. She fell for him" strum ? "and got deep into his bag of being stoned: she freaked out nearly every time the bastard507 telephoned. She went from popping pills to dropping acid, then" ? she halts and leans forward staring at Nelson so hard the boy softly cries, "Yes?"
"He lovingly suggested shooting heroin538."
Nelson looks as if he will cry: the way his eyes sink in and his chin develops another bump. He looks, Rabbit thinks, like a sulky girl. He can't see much of himself in the boy, beyond the small straight nose.
The music runs on.
"Poor Jill got scared; the other kids at school would tell her not to be a self?destructive fool. Her mother, still in mourning, was being kept bus?ee, by a divorced tax lawyer from nearby Westerlee. Bad Freddy was promising539 her Heaven above, when all Jill wanted was his mundane540 love. She wanted the feel of his prick26, not the prick of the needle; but Freddy would beg her, and stroke her, and sweet?talk and wheedle541."
And Rabbit begins to wonder if she has done this before, that rhyme was so slick. What hasn't this kid done before?
"She was afraid to die" ? strum, strum, pale orange hair thrashing ? "he asked her why. He said the world was rotten and insane; she said she had no cause to complain. He said racism543 was rampant544, hold out your arm; she said no white man but him had ever done her any harm. He said the first shot will just be beneath the skin; she said okay, lover, put that shit right in." Strum strum strum. Face lifted toward them, she is a banshee, totally bled. She speaks the next line. "It was hell."
St?r?r?um. "He kept holding her head and patting her ass, and saying relax, he'd been to life?saving class. He asked her, hadn't he shown her the face of God? She said, Yes, thank you, but she would have been happy to settle for less. She saw that her lover with his tan skin and white smile was death; she feared him and loved him with every frightened breath. So what did Jill do?"
Silence hangs on the upbeat.
Nelson blurts545, "What?"
Jill smiles. "She ran to the Stonington savings546 bank and generously withdrew. She hopped547 inside her Porsche and drove away, and that is how come she is living with you two creeps today."
Both father and son applaud. Jill drinks deep of the beer as a reward to herself. In their bedroom, she is still in the mood, artistic548 elation549, to be rewarded. Rabbit says to her, "Great song. But you know what I didn't like about it?"
"What?"
"Nostalgia550. You miss it. Getting stoned with Freddy."
"At least," she says, "I wasn't just playing, what did you call it, happy cunt?"
"Sorry I blew my stack."
"Still want me to go?"
Rabbit, having sensed this would come, hangs up his pants, his shirt, puts his underclothes in the hamper551. The dress she has dropped on the floor he drapes on a hook in her half of the closet, her dirty panties he puts in the hamper. "No. Stay."
"Beg me."
He turns, a big tired man, slack?muscled, who has to rise and set type in eight hours. "I beg you to stay."
"Take back those slaps."
"How can I?"
"Kiss my feet."
He kneels to comply. Annoyed at such ready compliance552, which implies pleasure, she stiffens553 her feet and kicks so her toenails stab his cheek, dangerously near his eyes. He pins her ankles to continue his kissing. Slightly doughy, matronly ankles. Green veins on her insteps. Nice remembered locker554 room taste. Vanilla going rancid.
"Your tongue between my toes," she says; her voice cracks timidly, issuing the command. When again he complies, she edges forward on the bed and spreads her legs. "Now here." She knows he enjoys this, but asks it anyway, to see what she can make of him, this alien man. His head, with its stubborn old?fashioned short haircut ? the enemy's uniform, athlete and soldier; bone above the ears, dingy555 blond silk thinning on top ? feels large as a boulder556 between her thighs. The excitement of singing her song, ebbing, unites with the insistent557 warmth of his tongue lapping. A spark kindles558, a green sprig lengthens559 in the barren space between her legs. "A little higher," Jill says, then, her voice quite softened560 and crumbling561, "Faster. Lovely. Lovely."
One day after work as he and his father are walking down Pine Street toward their before?bus drink at the Phoenix562 Bar, a dapper thickset man with sideburns and hornrims intercepts563 them. "Hey, Angstrom." Both father and son halt, blink. In the tunnel of sunshine, after their day of work, they generally feel hidden.
Harry recognizes Stavros. He is wearing a suit of little beige checks on a ground of greenish threads. He looks a touch thinner, more brittle564, his composure more of an effort. Maybe he is just tense for this encounter. Harry says, "Dad, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. Charlie Stavros, Earl Angstrom."
"Pleased to meet you, Earl."
The old man ignores the extended square hand and speaks to Harry. "Not the same that's ruined my daughter?in?law?"
Stavros tries for a quick sale. "Ruined. That's pretty strong. Humored is more how I'd put it." His try for a smile ignored, Stavros turns to Harry. "Can we talk a minute? Maybe have a drink down at the corner. Sorry to butt in like this, Mr. Angstrom."
"Harry, what is your preference? You want to be left alone with this scum or shall we brush him off?"
"Come on, Dad, what's the point?"
"You young people may have your own ways of working things out, but I'm too old to change. I'll get on the next bus. Don't let yourself be talked into anything. This son of a bitch looks slick."
"Give my love to Mom. I'll try to get over this weekend."
"If you can, you can. She keeps dreaming about you and Mim."
"Yeah, some time could you give me Mim's address?"
"She doesn't have an address, just care of some agent in Los Angeles, that's the way they do it now. You were thinking of writing her?"
"Maybe send her a postcard. See you tomorrow."
"Terrible dreams," the old man says, and slopes to the curb to wait for the 16A bus, cheated of his beer, the thin disappointed back of his neck reminding Harry of Nelson.
Inside the Phoenix it is dark and cold; Rabbit feels a sneeze gathering565 between his eyes. Stavros leads the way to a booth and folds his hands on the Formica tabletop. Hairy hands that have held her breasts. Harry asks, "How is she?"
"She? Oh hell, in fine form."
Rabbit wonders if this means what it seems. The tip of his tongue freezes on his palate, unable to think of a delicate way to probe. He says, "They don't have a waitress in the afternoon. I'll get a Daiquiri for myself, what for you?"
"Just soda566 water. Lots of ice."
"No hootch?"
"Never touch it." Stavros clears his throat, smooths back the hair above his sideburns with a flat hand that is, nevertheless, slightly trembling. He explains, "The medicos tell me it's a no?no."
Coming back with their drinks, Rabbit asks, "You sick?"
Stavros says, "Nothing new, the same old ticker. Janice must have told you, heart murmur since I was a kid."
What does this guy think, he and Janice sat around discussing him like he was their favorite child? He does remember Janice crying out he couldn't marry, expecting him, Harry, her husband, to sympathize. Oddly, he had. "She mentioned something."
"Rheumatic fever. Thank God they've got those things licked now, when I was a kid I caught every bug417 they made." Stavros shrugs. "They tell me I can live to be a hundred, if I take care of the physical plant. You know," he says, "these doctors. There's still a lot they don't know."
"I know. They're putting my mother through the wringer right now."
"Jesus, you ought to hear Janice go on about your mother."
"Not so enthusiastic, huh?"
"Not so at all. She needs some gripe, though, to keep herself justified. She's all torn up about the kid."
"She left him with me and there he stays."
"In court, you know, you'd lose him."
"We'd see."
Stavros makes a small chopping motion around his glass full of soda bubbles (poor Peggy Fosnacht; Rabbit should call her) to indicate a new angle in their conversation. "Hell," he says, "I can't take him in. I don't have the room. As it is now, I have to send Janice out to the movies or over to her parents when my family visits. You know I just don't have a mother, I have a grandmother. She's ninety?three, speaking of living forever."
Rabbit tries to imagine Stavros's room, which Janice described as full of tinted photographs, and instead imagines Janice nude567, tinted, Playmate of the month, posed on a nappy Greek sofa olive green in color, with scrolling568 arms, her body twisted at the hips just enough to hide her gorgeous big black bush. The crease216 of the centerfold cuts across her navel and one hand dangles569 a rose. The vision makes Rabbit for the first time hostile. He asks Stavros, "How do you see this all coming out?"
"That's what I wanted to ask you."
Rabbit asks, "She going sour on you?"
"No, Jesus, au contraire. She's balling me ragged450."
Rabbit sips, swallows that, probes for another nerve. "She miss the kid?"
"Nelson, he comes over to the lot some days and she sees him weekends anyhow, I don't know that she saw much more of him before. I don't know as how motherhood is Janice's best bag anyway. What she doesn't much care for is the idea of her baby just out of diapers shacking570 up with this hippie."
"She's not a hippie, especially; unless everybody that age is. And I'm the one shacking up."
"How is she at it?"
"She's balling me ragged," Rabbit tells him. He is beginning to get Stavros's measure. At first, meeting him on the street so suddenly, he felt toward him like a friend, met through Janice's body. Then first coming into the Phoenix he felt him as a sick man, a man holding himself together against odds571. Now he sees him as a competitor, one of those brainy cute close?set little playmakers. O.K. So Rabbit is competing again. What he has to do is hang loose and let Stavros make the move.
Stavros hunches572 his square shoulders infinitesimally, has some soda, and asks, "What do you see yourself doing with this hippie?"
"She has a name. Jill."
"What's Jill's big picture, do you know?"
"No. She has a dead father and a mother she doesn't like, I guess she'll go back to Connecticut when her luck runs thin."
"Aren't you being, so to speak, her luck?"
"I'm part of her picture right now, yeah."
"And she of yours. You know, your living with this girl gives Janice an open?and?shut divorce case."
"You don't scare me, somehow."
"Do I understand that you've assured Janice that all she has to do is come back and the girl will go?"
Rabbit begins to feel it, where Stavros is pressing for the opening. The tickle above his nose is beginning up again. "No," he says, praying not to sneeze, "you don't understand that." He sneezes. Six faces at the bar look around; the little Schlitz spinner seems to hesitate. They are giving away refrigerators and ski weekends in Chile on the TV.
"You don't want Janice back now?"
"I don't know."
"You would like a divorce so you can keep living the good life? Or marry the girl, maybe, even? Jill. She'll break your balls, Sport."
"You think too fast. I'm just living day by day, trying to forget my sorrow. I've been left, don't forget. Some slick?talking kinkyhaired peacenik?type Japanese?car salesman lured573 her away, I forget the son?of?a?bitch's name."
"That isn't exactly the way it was. She came pounding on my door."
"You let her in."
Stavros looks surprised. "What else? She had put herself out on a limb. Where could she go? My taking her in made the least trouble for everybody."
"And now it's trouble?"
Stavros fiddles his fingertips as if cards are in them; if he loses this trick, can he take the rest? "Her staying on with me gives her expectations we can't fulfill574. Marriage isn't my thing, sorry. With anybody."
"Don't try to be polite. So now you've tried her in all positions and want to ship her back. Poor old Jan. So dumb."
"I don't find her dumb. I find her?unsure of herself She wants what every normal chick wants. To be Helen of Troy. There've been hours when I gave her some of that. I can't keep giving it to her. It doesn't hold up." He becomes angry; his square brow darkens. "What do you want? You're sitting there twitching575 your whiskers, so how about it? If I kick her out, will you pick her up?"
"Kick her out and see. She can always go live with her parents."
"Her mother drives her crazy."
"That's what mothers are for." Rabbit pictures his own. His bladder gets a touch of that guilty sweetness it had when as a child he was running to school late, beside the slime?rimmed140 gutter water that ran down from the ice plant. He tries to explain. "Listen, Stavros. You're the one in the wrong. You're the one screwing another man's wife. If you want to pull out, pull out. Don't try to commit me to one of your fucking coalition576 governments."
"Back to that," Stavros says.
"Right. You intervened, not me."
"I didn't intervene, I performed a rescue."
"That's what all you hawks say." He is eager to argue about Vietnam, but Stavros keeps to the less passionate subject.
"She was desperate, fella. Christ, hadn't you taken her to bed in ten years?"
"I resent that."
"Go ahead. Resent it."
"She was no worse off than a million wives." A billion cunts, how many wives? Five hundred million? "We had relations. They didn't seem so bad to me."
"All I'm saying is, I didn't cook this up, it was delivered to me hot. I didn't have to talk her into anything, she was pushing all the way. I was the first chance she had. If I'd been a one?legged milkman, I would have done."
"You're too modest."
Stavros shakes his head. "She's some tiger."
"Stop it, you're giving me a hard?on."
Stavros studies him squarely. "You're a funny guy."
"Tell me what it is you don't like about her now."
His merely interested tone relaxes Stavros's shoulders an inch. The man measures off a little cage in front of his lapels. "It's just too ? confining. It's weight I don't need. I got to keep light, on an even keel. I got to avoid stress. Between you and me, I'm not going to live forever."
"You just told me you might."
"The odds are not."
"You know, you're just like me, the way I used to be. Everybody now is like the way I used to be."
"She's had her kicks for the summer, let her come back. Tell the hippie to move on, that's what a kid like that wants to hear anyway."
Rabbit sips the dregs of his second Daiquiri. It is delicious, to let this silence lengthen, widen: he will not promise to take Janice back. The game is on ice. He says at last, because continued silence would have been unbearably577 rude, ` Just don't know. Sorry to be so vague."
Stavros takes it up quickly. "She on anything?"
"Who?"
"This nympho of yours."
"On something?"
"You know. Pills. Acid. She can't be on horse or you wouldn'have any furniture left."
` Jill? No, she's kicked that stuff:"
"Don't you believe it. They never do. These flower babies dope is their milk."
"She's fanatic578 against. She's been there and back. Not that this is any of your business." Rabbit doesn't like the way the game has started to slide; there is a hole he is trying to plug and can't.
Stavros minutely shrugs. "How about Nelson? Is he acting579 different?"
"He's growing up." The answer sounds evasive. Stavros brushes it aside.
"Drowsy580? Nervous? Taking naps at odd times? What do they do all day while you're playing hunt and peck? They must do something, fella."
"She teaches him how to be polite to scum. Fella. Let me pay ?for your water."
"So what have I learned?"
"I hope nothing."
But Stavros has sneaked581 in for that lay?up and the game is in overtime582. Rabbit hurries to get home, to see Nelson and Jill, to sniff346 their breaths, look at their pupils, whatever. He has left his lamb with a viper583. But outside the Phoenix, in the hazed584 sunshine held at its September tilt, traffic is snarled585, and the buses are caught along with everything else. A movie is being made. Rabbit remembers it mentioned in the Vat (BREWER MIDDLE AMERICA? Gotham Filmmakers Think So) that Brewer had been chosen for a location by some new independent outfit586; none of the stars' names meant anything to him, he forgot the details. Here they are. An arc of cars and trucks mounted with lights extends halfway into Weiser Street, and a crowd of locals with rolled?up shirtsleeves and bag?lugging343 grannies and Negro delinquents587 straggles into the rest of the street to get a closer look, cutting down traffic to one creeping lane. The cops that should be unsnarling the tangle are ringing the show, protecting the moviemakers. So tall, Rabbit gets a glimpse from a curb. One of the boarded?up stores near the old Baghdad that used to show M?G?M but now is given over to skin flicks (Sepia Follies588, Honeymoon589 in Swapland ) has been done up as a restaurant front; a tall salmon590?faced man with taffy hair and a little bronze?haired trick emerge from this pretend?restaurant arm in arm and there is some incident involving a passerby591, another painted actor who emerges from the crowd of dusty real people watching, a bumping?into, followed by laughter on the part of the first man and the woman and a slow resuming look that will probably signal when the film is all cut and projected that they are going to fuck. They do this several times. Between takes everybody waits, wisecracks, adjusts lights and wires. The girl, from Rabbit's distance, is impossibly precise: her eyes flash, her hair hurls592 reflections like a helmet. Even her dress scintillates593. When someone, a director or electrician, stands near her, he looks dim. And it makes Rabbit feel dim, dim and guilty, to see how the spotlights594 carve from the sunlight a yet brighter day, a lurid595 pastel island of heightened reality around which the rest of us ? technicians, policemen, the straggling fascinated spectators including himselfare penumbral596 ghosts, suppliants597 ignored.
Local Excavations598
Unearth308 Antiquities599
As Brewer renews itself, it discovers more about itself.
The large?scale demolition600 and reconstruction601 now taking place in the central city continues uncovering numerous artifacts of the "olden times" which yield interesting insights into our city's past.
An underground speakeasy complete with wall murals emerged to light during the creation of a parking lot at M ing the creation of a parking lot at Muriel and Greeley Streets.
Old?timers remembered the hideaway as the haunt of "Gloves" Naugel and other Prohibition602 figures, as also the training?ground for musicians like "Red" Wenrich of sliding trombone fame who went on to become household names on a nationwide scale.
Also old sign?boards are common. Ingeniously shaped in the forms of cows, beehives, boots, mortars603, plows604, they advertise "dry goods and notions," leatherwork, drugs, and medicines, produce of infinite variety. Preserved underground, most are still easily legible and date from the nineteenth century.
Amid the old fieldstone foundations, metal tools and grindstones come to light.
Arrowheads are not uncommon605.
Dr. Klaus Schoerner, vice437?president of the Brewer Historical Society, spent a
At the coffee break, Buchanan struts606 up to Rabbit. "How's little Jilly doing for you?"
"She's holding up."
"She worked out pretty fine for you, didn't she?"
"She's a good girl. Mixed?up like kids are these days, but we've gotten used to her. My boy and me."
Buchanan smiles, his fine little mustache spreading an em, and sways a half?step closer. "Little Jill's still keeping you company?"
Rabbit shrugs, feeling pasty and nervous. He keeps giving hostages to fortune. "She has nowhere else to go."
"Yes, man, she must be working out real fine for you." Still he doesn't walk away, going out to the platform for his whisky. He stays and, still smiling but letting a pensive607 considerate shadow slowly subdue608 his face, says, "You know, friend Harry, what with Labor609 Day coming on, and the kids going back to school, and all this inflation you see everywhere, things get a bit short. In the financial end."
"How many children do you have?" Rabbit asks politely. Working with him all these years, he never thought Buchanan was married.
The plump ash?gray man rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Oh . . . say five, that's been counted. They look to their daddy for support, and Labor Day finds him a little embarrassed. The cards just haven't been falling for old Lester lately."
"I'm sorry," Rabbit says. "Maybe you shouldn't gamble."
"I am just tickled to death little Jilly's worked out to fit your needs," Buchanan says. "I was thinking, twenty would sure help me by Labor Day."
"Twenty dollars?"
"That is all. It is miraculous610, Harry, how far I've learned to make a little stretch. Twenty little dollars from a friend to a friend would sure make my holiday go easier all around. Like I say, seeing Jill worked out so good, you must be feeling pretty good. Pretty generous. A man in love, they say, is a friend to all."
But Rabbit has already fished out his wallet and found two tens. "This is just a loan," he says, frightened, knowing he is lying, bothered by that sliding again, that sweet bladder running late to school. The doors will be shut, the principal Mr. Kleist always stands by the front doors, with their rattling611 chains and push bars rubbed down to the yellow of brass, to snare612 the tardy613 and clap them into his airless office, where the records are kept.
"My children bless you," Buchanan says, folding the bills away. "This will buy a world of pencils."
"Hey, whatever happened to Babe?" Rabbit asks. He fords, with his money in Buchanan's pocket, he has new ease; he has bought rights of inquiry614.
Buchanan is caught off guard. "She's still around. She's still doing her thing as the young folks say."
"I wondered, you know, if you'd broken off connections."
Because he is short of money. Buchanan studies Rabbit's face, to make certain he knows what he is implying. Pimp. He sees he does, and his mustache broadens. "You want to get into that nice Babe, is that it? Tired of white meat, want a drumstick? Harry, what would your Daddy say?"
"I'm just asking how she was. I liked the way she played."
"She sure took a shine to you, I know. Come up to Jimbo's some time, we'll work something out."
"She said my knuckles were bad." The bell rasps. Rabbit tries to gauge615 how soon the next touch will be made, how deep this man is into him; Buchanan sees this and playfully, jubilantly slaps the palm of the hand Rabbit had extended, thinking of his knuckles. The slap tingles616. Skin.
Buchanan says, "I like you, man," and walks away. A plumpudding?colored roll of fat trembles at the back of his neck. Poor diet, starch. Chitlins, grits617.
fascinating hour with the VAT reporter, chatting informally concerning Brewer's easliest days as a trading post with er's earliest days as a trading post with the Indian tribes along the Running Horse River.
He showed us a pint618 of log hots
He showed us a print of log huts
etched when the primitive619 settlement bore the name of Greenwich, after Greenwich, England, home of the famed observatory620.
Also in Dr. Kleist's collection were many fascinating photos of Weiser Street when it held a few rode shops and inns. The most famous of these inns was the Goose and Feathers, where George Washington and his retinue621 tarried one night on their way west to suppress the Whisky Rebellion in 1720. suppress the Whisky Rebellion in 1799.
The first iron mine in the vicinity was the well?known Oriole Furnace, seven miles south of the city. Dr. Kleist owns a collection of original slag622 and spoke enthusiastically about the methods whereby these early ironmakers produced a sufficiently623 powerful draft in
Pajasek comes up behind him. "Angstrom. Telephone." Pajasek is a small tired bald man whose bristling624 eyebrows increase the look of pressure about his head, as if his forehead is being pressed over his eyes, forming long horizontal folds. "You might tell the party after this you have a home number."
"Sorry, Ed. It's probably my crazy wife."
"Could you get her to be crazy on your private time?"
Crossing from his machine to the relative quiet of the frostedglass walls is like ascending625 through supportive water to the sudden vacuum of air. Instantly, he begins to struggle. ` Janice, for Christ's sake, I told you not to call me here. Call me at home."
"I don't want to talk to your little answering service. Just the thought of her voice makes me go cold all over."
"Nelson usually answers the phone. She never answers it."
"I don't want to hear her, or see her, or hear about her. I can't describe to you, Harry, the disgust I feel at just the thought of that person."
"Have you been on the bottle again? You sound screwed?up."
"I am sober and sane542. And satisfied, thank you. I want to know what you're doing about Nelson's back?to?school clothes. You realize he's grown three inches this summer and nothing will fit."
"Did he, that's terrific. Maybe he won't be such a shrimp after all."
"He will be as big as my father and my father is no shrimp."
"Sorry, I always thought he was."
"Do you want me to hang up right now? Is that what you want?"
"No, I just want you to call me someplace else than at work."
She hangs up. He waits in Pajasek's wooden swivel chair, looking at the calendar, which hasn't been fumed626 yet though this is September, and the August calendar girl, who is holding two icecream cones627 so the scoops628 cover just where her nipples would be, one strawberry and one chocolate, Double Dips! being the caption629, until the phone rings.
"What were we saying?" he asks.
"I must take Nelson shopping for school clothes."
"O.K., come around and pick him up any time. Set a day."
"I will not come near that house, Harry, as long as that girl is in it. I won't even go near Penn Villas. I'm sorry, it's an uncontrollable physical revulsion."
"Maybe you're pregnant, if you're so queasy630. Have you and Chas been taking precautions?"
"Harry, I don't know you any more. I said to Charlie, I can't believe I lived thirteen years with that man, it's as if it never happened." .
"Which reminds me, what shall we get Nelson for his birthday? He's going to be thirteen next month."
She begins to cry. "You never forgave me for that, did you? For getting pregnant."
"I did, I did. Relax. It worked out great. I'll send Nelson over to your love nest to go shopping. Name the day."
"Send him to the lot Saturday morning. I don't like him coming to the apartment, it seems too terrible when he leaves."
"Does it have to be Saturday? There was some talk of Jill driving us both down to Valley Forge; the kid and I've never seen it.
"Are you poking fun of me? Why do you think this is all so funny, Harry? This is life."
"I'm not, we were. Seriously."
"Well, tell her you can't. You two send Nelson over. Only send him with some money, I don't see why I should pay for his clothes."
"Buy everything at Kroll's and charge it."
"Knoll's has gone terribly downhill, you know it has. There's a nice little new shop now up near Perley, past that submarine place that used to be Chinese."
"Open another charge account. Tell him you're Springer Motors and offer a Toyota for security."
"Harry, you mustn't be so hostile. You sent me off myself. You said, that night, I'll never forget it, it was the shock of my life, `See him if you want to, just so I don't have to see the bastard.' Those were your words."
"Hey, that reminds me, I did see him the other day."
"Who?"
"Chas. Your dark and swarthy lover."
"How?"
"He ambushed631 me after work. Waiting in the alley with a dagger632. Oog, I said, you got me, you Commie rat."
"What did he want?"
"Oh, to talk about you."
"What about me? Harry, are you lying, I can't tell any more. What about me?"
"Whether or not you were happy."
She makes no comeback, so he goes on, "We concluded you were."
"Right," Janice says, and hangs up.
点击收听单词发音
1 pal | |
n.朋友,伙伴,同志;vi.结为友 | |
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2 tinted | |
adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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3 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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4 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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5 jig | |
n.快步舞(曲);v.上下晃动;用夹具辅助加工;蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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6 wink | |
n.眨眼,使眼色,瞬间;v.眨眼,使眼色,闪烁 | |
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7 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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8 owl | |
n.猫头鹰,枭 | |
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9 itch | |
n.痒,渴望,疥癣;vi.发痒,渴望 | |
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10 morons | |
傻子( moron的名词复数 ); 痴愚者(指心理年龄在8至12岁的成年人) | |
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11 brewer | |
n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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12 verity | |
n.真实性 | |
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13 tar | |
n.柏油,焦油;vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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14 ass | |
n.驴;傻瓜,蠢笨的人 | |
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15 evade | |
vt.逃避,回避;避开,躲避 | |
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16 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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17 dart | |
v.猛冲,投掷;n.飞镖,猛冲 | |
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18 darts | |
n.掷飞镖游戏;飞镖( dart的名词复数 );急驰,飞奔v.投掷,投射( dart的第三人称单数 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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19 eels | |
abbr. 电子发射器定位系统(=electronic emitter location system) | |
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20 tingling | |
v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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21 avarice | |
n.贪婪;贪心 | |
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22 nag | |
v.(对…)不停地唠叨;n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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23 hunch | |
n.预感,直觉 | |
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24 rendering | |
n.表现,描写 | |
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25 blur | |
n.模糊不清的事物;vt.使模糊,使看不清楚 | |
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26 prick | |
v.刺伤,刺痛,刺孔;n.刺伤,刺痛 | |
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27 pricks | |
刺痛( prick的名词复数 ); 刺孔; 刺痕; 植物的刺 | |
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28 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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29 vat | |
n.(=value added tax)增值税,大桶 | |
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30 smother | |
vt./vi.使窒息;抑制;闷死;n.浓烟;窒息 | |
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31 inertia | |
adj.惰性,惯性,懒惰,迟钝 | |
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32 valid | |
adj.有确实根据的;有效的;正当的,合法的 | |
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33 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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34 pajamas | |
n.睡衣裤 | |
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35 dryer | |
n.干衣机,干燥剂 | |
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36 tempo | |
n.(音乐的)速度;节奏,行进速度 | |
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37 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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38 awning | |
n.遮阳篷;雨篷 | |
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39 savoring | |
v.意味,带有…的性质( savor的现在分词 );给…加调味品;使有风味;品尝 | |
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40 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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41 shimmer | |
v./n.发微光,发闪光;微光 | |
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42 panorama | |
n.全景,全景画,全景摄影,全景照片[装置] | |
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43 skyscraper | |
n.摩天大楼 | |
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44 rape | |
n.抢夺,掠夺,强奸;vt.掠夺,抢夺,强奸 | |
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45 flaring | |
a.火焰摇曳的,过份艳丽的 | |
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46 gashed | |
v.划伤,割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47 gravel | |
n.砂跞;砂砾层;结石 | |
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48 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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49 rummaging | |
翻找,搜寻( rummage的现在分词 ); 海关检查 | |
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50 tonic | |
n./adj.滋补品,补药,强身的,健体的 | |
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51 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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52 asses | |
n. 驴,愚蠢的人,臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
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53 alley | |
n.小巷,胡同;小径,小路 | |
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54 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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55 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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56 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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57 butt | |
n.笑柄;烟蒂;枪托;臀部;v.用头撞或顶 | |
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58 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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59 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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60 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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61 ironical | |
adj.讽刺的,冷嘲的 | |
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62 retract | |
vt.缩回,撤回收回,取消 | |
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63 vista | |
n.远景,深景,展望,回想 | |
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64 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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65 radiator | |
n.暖气片,散热器 | |
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66 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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67 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
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68 bellies | |
n.肚子( belly的名词复数 );腹部;(物体的)圆形或凸起部份;腹部…形的 | |
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69 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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70 shrugs | |
n.耸肩(以表示冷淡,怀疑等)( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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71 shrug | |
v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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72 pricked | |
刺,扎,戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 ); 刺伤; 刺痛; 使剧痛 | |
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73 rattle | |
v.飞奔,碰响;激怒;n.碰撞声;拨浪鼓 | |
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74 rattles | |
(使)发出格格的响声, (使)作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 ); 喋喋不休地说话; 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动,堕下或走动; 使紧张,使恐惧 | |
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75 hip | |
n.臀部,髋;屋脊 | |
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76 perch | |
n.栖木,高位,杆;v.栖息,就位,位于 | |
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77 flinches | |
v.(因危险和痛苦)退缩,畏惧( flinch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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78 flinch | |
v.畏缩,退缩 | |
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79 clattering | |
发出咔哒声(clatter的现在分词形式) | |
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80 clatter | |
v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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81 swoops | |
猛扑,突然下降( swoop的名词复数 ) | |
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82 swirls | |
n.旋转( swirl的名词复数 );卷状物;漩涡;尘旋v.旋转,打旋( swirl的第三人称单数 ) | |
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83 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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84 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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85 sips | |
n.小口喝,一小口的量( sip的名词复数 )v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的第三人称单数 ) | |
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86 pussy | |
n.(儿语)小猫,猫咪 | |
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87 tickle | |
v.搔痒,胳肢;使高兴;发痒;n.搔痒,发痒 | |
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88 tickles | |
(使)发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 ); (使)愉快,逗乐 | |
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89 deformed | |
adj.畸形的;变形的;丑的,破相了的 | |
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90 irritation | |
n.激怒,恼怒,生气 | |
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91 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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92 ebbing | |
(指潮水)退( ebb的现在分词 ); 落; 减少; 衰落 | |
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93 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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94 bum | |
n.臀部;流浪汉,乞丐;vt.乞求,乞讨 | |
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95 narcotic | |
n.麻醉药,镇静剂;adj.麻醉的,催眠的 | |
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96 bland | |
adj.淡而无味的,温和的,无刺激性的 | |
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97 plow | |
n.犁,耕地,犁过的地;v.犁,费力地前进[英]plough | |
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98 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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99 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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100 gutter | |
n.沟,街沟,水槽,檐槽,贫民窟 | |
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101 gut | |
n.[pl.]胆量;内脏;adj.本能的;vt.取出内脏 | |
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102 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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103 sieve | |
n.筛,滤器,漏勺 | |
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104 spun | |
v.纺,杜撰,急转身 | |
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105 flipped | |
轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 ); 按(开关); 快速翻转; 急挥 | |
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106 flip | |
vt.快速翻动;轻抛;轻拍;n.轻抛;adj.轻浮的 | |
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107 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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108 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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109 shrimp | |
n.虾,小虾;矮小的人 | |
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110 clams | |
n.蛤;蚌,蛤( clam的名词复数 )v.(在沙滩上)挖蛤( clam的第三人称单数 ) | |
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111 wailing | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
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112 sockets | |
n.套接字,使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 );孔( socket的名词复数 );(电器上的)插口;托座;凹穴 | |
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113 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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114 muffled | |
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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115 hoods | |
n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 );头巾;(汽车、童车等的)折合式车篷;汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 );头巾;(汽车、童车等的)折合式车篷;汽车发动机罩 | |
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116 hood | |
n.头巾,兜帽,覆盖;v.罩上,以头巾覆盖 | |
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117 cramped | |
a.狭窄的 | |
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118 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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119 billboards | |
n.广告牌( billboard的名词复数 ) | |
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120 blazoned | |
v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 );宣布;夸示;装饰 | |
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121 commonwealth | |
n.共和国,联邦,共同体 | |
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122 rumpled | |
v.弄皱,使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123 awesome | |
adj.令人惊叹的,难得吓人的,很好的 | |
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124 waddle | |
vi.摇摆地走;n.摇摆的走路(样子) | |
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125 curb | |
n.场外证券市场,场外交易;vt.制止,抑制 | |
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126 whittling | |
v.切,削(木头),使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
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127 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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128 vanilla | |
n.香子兰,香草 | |
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129 droplets | |
n.小滴( droplet的名词复数 ) | |
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130 luminous | |
adj.发光的,发亮的;光明的;明白易懂的;有启发的 | |
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131 pinnacle | |
n.尖塔,尖顶,山峰;(喻)顶峰 | |
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132 gnats | |
n.叮人小虫( gnat的名词复数 ) | |
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133 nags | |
n.不断地挑剔或批评(某人)( nag的名词复数 );不断地烦扰或伤害(某人);无休止地抱怨;不断指责v.不断地挑剔或批评(某人)( nag的第三人称单数 );不断地烦扰或伤害(某人);无休止地抱怨;不断指责 | |
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134 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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135 dreads | |
n.恐惧,畏惧( dread的名词复数 );令人恐惧的事物v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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136 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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137 gall | |
v.使烦恼,使焦躁,难堪;n.磨难 | |
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138 tickled | |
(使)发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)愉快,逗乐 | |
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139 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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140 rimmed | |
adj.有边缘的,有框的v.沿…边缘滚动;给…镶边 | |
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141 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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142 luncheons | |
n.午餐,午宴( luncheon的名词复数 ) | |
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143 rascal | |
n.流氓;不诚实的人 | |
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144 hatchets | |
n.短柄小斧( hatchet的名词复数 );恶毒攻击;诽谤;休战 | |
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145 marine | |
adj.海的;海生的;航海的;海事的;n.水兵 | |
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146 recede | |
vi.退(去),渐渐远去;向后倾斜,缩进 | |
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147 lurk | |
n.潜伏,潜行;v.潜藏,潜伏,埋伏 | |
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148 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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149 shimmering | |
v.闪闪发光,发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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150 obliquely | |
adv.斜; 倾斜; 间接; 不光明正大 | |
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151 idyllic | |
adj.质朴宜人的,田园风光的 | |
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152 reassures | |
v.消除恐惧或疑虑,恢复信心( reassure的第三人称单数 ) | |
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153 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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154 slant | |
v.倾斜,倾向性地编写或报道;n.斜面,倾向 | |
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155 slit | |
n.狭长的切口;裂缝;vt.切开,撕裂 | |
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156 syllables | |
n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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157 renown | |
n.声誉,名望 | |
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158 tilt | |
v.(使)倾侧;(使)倾斜;n.倾侧;倾斜 | |
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159 synchronized | |
同步的 | |
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160 eerie | |
adj.怪诞的;奇异的;可怕的;胆怯的 | |
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161 reptilian | |
adj.(像)爬行动物的;(像)爬虫的;卑躬屈节的;卑鄙的n.两栖动物;卑劣的人 | |
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162 glistening | |
adj.闪耀的,反光的v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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163 rhinestones | |
n.莱茵石,人造钻石( rhinestone的名词复数 ) | |
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164 alligator | |
n.短吻鳄(一种鳄鱼) | |
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165 thrifty | |
adj.节俭的;兴旺的;健壮的 | |
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166 racing | |
n.竞赛,赛马;adj.竞赛用的,赛马用的 | |
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167 scents | |
n.香水( scent的名词复数 );气味;(动物的)臭迹;(尤指狗的)嗅觉 | |
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168 caresses | |
爱抚,抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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169 indicator | |
n.指标;指示物,指示者;指示器 | |
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170 knuckle | |
n.指节;vi.开始努力工作;屈服,认输 | |
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171 hustle | |
v.推搡;竭力兜售或获取;催促;n.奔忙(碌) | |
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172 hustled | |
催促(hustle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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173 plausible | |
adj.似真实的,似乎有理的,似乎可信的 | |
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174 knuckles | |
n.(指人)指关节( knuckle的名词复数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝v.(指人)指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝 | |
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175 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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176 cracker | |
n.(无甜味的)薄脆饼干 | |
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177 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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178 bustles | |
热闹( bustle的名词复数 ); (女裙后部的)衬垫; 撑架 | |
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179 retrieves | |
v.取回( retrieve的第三人称单数 );恢复;寻回;检索(储存的信息) | |
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180 prune | |
n.酶干;vt.修剪,砍掉,削减;vi.删除 | |
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181 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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182 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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183 texture | |
n.(织物)质地;(材料)构造;结构;肌理 | |
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184 crocheting | |
v.用钩针编织( crochet的现在分词 );钩编 | |
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185 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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186 uptight | |
adj.焦虑不安的,紧张的 | |
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187 ashtray | |
n.烟灰缸 | |
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188 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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189 flares | |
n.喇叭裤v.(使)闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 );(使)(船舷)外倾;(使)鼻孔张大;(使)(衣裙、酒杯等)呈喇叭形展开 | |
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190 subsides | |
v.(土地)下陷(因在地下采矿)( subside的第三人称单数 );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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191 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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192 chuckles | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的名词复数 ) | |
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193 chuckle | |
vi./n.轻声笑,咯咯笑 | |
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194 forefinger | |
n.食指 | |
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195 nicotine | |
n.(化)尼古丁,烟碱 | |
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196 coaxing | |
v.哄,用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 );巧言骗取;哄劝,劝诱;“锻炼”效应 | |
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197 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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198 mule | |
n.骡子,杂种,执拗的人 | |
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199 hustling | |
催促(hustle的现在分词形式) | |
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200 smack | |
vt.拍,打,掴;咂嘴;vi.含有…意味;n.拍 | |
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201 undoes | |
松开( undo的第三人称单数 ); 解开; 毁灭; 败坏 | |
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202 puff | |
n.一口(气);一阵(风);v.喷气,喘气 | |
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203 autopsy | |
n.尸体解剖;尸检 | |
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204 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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205 vomiting | |
吐 | |
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206 muggy | |
adj.闷热的;adv.(天气)闷热而潮湿地;n.(天气)闷热而潮湿 | |
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207 buck | |
n.雄鹿,雄兔;v.马离地跳跃 | |
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208 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
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209 plumes | |
羽毛( plume的名词复数 ); 羽毛饰; 羽毛状物; 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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210 inhaling | |
v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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211 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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212 prying | |
adj.爱打听的v.打听,刺探(他人的私事)( pry的现在分词 );撬开 | |
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213 ooze | |
n.软泥,渗出物;vi.渗出,泄漏;vt.慢慢渗出,流露 | |
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214 rims | |
n.(圆形物体的)边( rim的名词复数 );缘;轮辋;轮圈 | |
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215 creased | |
(使…)起折痕,弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 ); (皮肤)皱起,使起皱纹; 皱皱巴巴 | |
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216 crease | |
n.折缝,褶痕,皱褶;v.(使)起皱 | |
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217 dribbling | |
n.(燃料或油从系统内)漏泄v.流口水( dribble的现在分词 );(使液体)滴下或作细流;运球,带球 | |
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218 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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219 fiddles | |
n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 );欺诈;(需要运用手指功夫的)细巧活动;当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 );篡改;骗取;修理或稍作改动 | |
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220 mumbles | |
含糊的话或声音,咕哝( mumble的名词复数 ) | |
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221 jade | |
n.玉石;碧玉;翡翠 | |
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222 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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223 copper | |
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的 | |
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224 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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225 retail | |
v./n.零售;adv.以零售价格 | |
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226 grudging | |
adj.勉强的,吝啬的 | |
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227 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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228 tunes | |
n.曲调,曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 );调整;(给收音机、电视等)调谐;使协调 | |
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229 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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230 thumped | |
v.重击, (指心脏)急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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231 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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232 spanking | |
adj.强烈的,疾行的;n.打屁股 | |
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233 lyrics | |
n.歌词 | |
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234 anthem | |
n.圣歌,赞美诗,颂歌 | |
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235 overalls | |
n.(复)工装裤;长罩衣 | |
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236 bucks | |
n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 );钱;(英国十九世纪初的)花花公子;(用于某些表达方式)责任v.(马等)猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 );抵制;猛然震荡;马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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237 shacks | |
n.窝棚,简陋的小屋( shack的名词复数 ) | |
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238 trolley | |
n.手推车,台车;无轨电车;有轨电车 | |
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239 ragtime | |
n.拉格泰姆音乐 | |
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240 wagons | |
n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 );铁路货车;小手推车 | |
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241 catfish | |
n.鲶鱼 | |
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242 murmurs | |
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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243 lollipop | |
n.棒棒糖 | |
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244 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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245 prim | |
adj.拘泥形式的,一本正经的;n.循规蹈矩,整洁;adv.循规蹈矩地,整洁地 | |
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246 scowls | |
不悦之色,怒容( scowl的名词复数 ) | |
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247 thighs | |
n.股,大腿( thigh的名词复数 );食用的鸡(等的)腿 | |
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248 thigh | |
n.大腿;股骨 | |
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249 dozing | |
v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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250 beverage | |
n.(水,酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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251 freckles | |
n.雀斑,斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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252 lame | |
adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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253 hips | |
abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯,耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 );[建筑学]屋脊;臀围(尺寸);臀部…的 | |
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254 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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255 fussy | |
adj.为琐事担忧的,过分装饰的,爱挑剔的 | |
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256 wheeze | |
n.喘息声,气喘声;v.喘息着说 | |
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257 backbone | |
n.脊骨,脊柱,骨干;刚毅,骨气 | |
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258 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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259 yews | |
n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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260 cedars | |
雪松,西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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261 cedar | |
n.雪松,香柏(木) | |
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262 consultant | |
n.顾问;会诊医师,专科医生 | |
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263 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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264 tighten | |
v.(使)变紧;(使)绷紧 | |
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265 villas | |
别墅,公馆( villa的名词复数 ); (城郊)住宅 | |
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266 pouts | |
n.撅嘴,生气( pout的名词复数 )v.撅(嘴)( pout的第三人称单数 ) | |
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267 bumpy | |
adj.颠簸不平的,崎岖的 | |
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268 rustles | |
n.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的名词复数 )v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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269 gracefully | |
ad.大大方方地;优美地 | |
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270 chuckling | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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271 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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272 jingling | |
叮当声 | |
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273 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
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274 vexed | |
adj.争论不休的;(指问题等)棘手的;争论不休的问题;烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 );使苦恼;使生气;详细讨论 | |
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275 fabulous | |
adj.极好的;极为巨大的;寓言中的,传说中的 | |
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276 frantically | |
ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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277 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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278 spunk | |
n.勇气,胆量 | |
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279 concurrence | |
n.同意;并发 | |
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280 apparition | |
n.幽灵,神奇的现象 | |
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281 translucent | |
adj.半透明的;透明的 | |
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282 strings | |
n.弦 | |
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283 swirled | |
v.旋转,打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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284 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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285 sneaking | |
a.秘密的,不公开的 | |
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286 crouch | |
v.蹲伏,蜷缩,低头弯腰;n.蹲伏 | |
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287 tilts | |
(意欲赢得某物或战胜某人的)企图,尝试( tilt的名词复数 ) | |
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288 gee | |
n.马;int.向右!前进!,惊讶时所发声音;v.向右转 | |
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289 sags | |
向下凹或中间下陷( sag的第三人称单数 ); 松弛或不整齐地悬着 | |
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290 confidentially | |
ad.秘密地,悄悄地 | |
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291 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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292 munch | |
v.用力嚼,大声咀嚼 | |
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293 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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294 parasite | |
n.寄生虫;寄生菌;食客 | |
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295 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
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296 petals | |
n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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297 medley | |
n.混合 | |
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298 gaudy | |
adj.华而不实的;俗丽的 | |
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299 carnival | |
n.嘉年华会,狂欢,狂欢节,巡回表演 | |
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300 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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301 suburban | |
adj.城郊的,在郊区的 | |
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302 ginger | |
n.姜,精力,淡赤黄色;adj.淡赤黄色的;vt.使活泼,使有生气 | |
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303 ego | |
n.自我,自己,自尊 | |
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304 snips | |
n.(剪金属板的)铁剪,铁铗;剪下之物( snip的名词复数 );一点点;零星v.剪( snip的第三人称单数 ) | |
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305 fluted | |
a.有凹槽的 | |
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306 looms | |
n.织布机( loom的名词复数 )v.隐约出现,阴森地逼近( loom的第三人称单数 );隐约出现,阴森地逼近 | |
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307 aluminum | |
n.(aluminium)铝 | |
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308 unearth | |
v.发掘,掘出,从洞中赶出 | |
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309 embedded | |
a.扎牢的 | |
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310 plaque | |
n.饰板,匾,(医)血小板 | |
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311 illegible | |
adj.难以辨认的,字迹模糊的 | |
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312 doze | |
v.打瞌睡;n.打盹,假寐 | |
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313 giggle | |
n.痴笑,咯咯地笑;v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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314 doorways | |
n.门口,门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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315 touchingly | |
adv.令人同情地,感人地,动人地 | |
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316 grit | |
n.沙粒,决心,勇气;v.下定决心,咬紧牙关 | |
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317 tepid | |
adj.微温的,温热的,不太热心的 | |
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318 flecks | |
n.斑点,小点( fleck的名词复数 );癍 | |
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319 fleck | |
n.斑点,微粒 vt.使有斑点,使成斑驳 | |
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320 anvil | |
n.铁钻 | |
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321 shards | |
n.(玻璃、金属或其他硬物的)尖利的碎片( shard的名词复数 ) | |
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322 peek | |
vi.偷看,窥视;n.偷偷的一看,一瞥 | |
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323 lengthen | |
vt.使伸长,延长 | |
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324 brandishing | |
v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 );炫耀 | |
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325 shambles | |
n.混乱之处;废墟 | |
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326 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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327 overlap | |
v.重叠,与…交叠;n.重叠 | |
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328 corrosive | |
adj.腐蚀性的;有害的;恶毒的 | |
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329 rumbling | |
n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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330 shuffling | |
adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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331 withering | |
使人畏缩的,使人害羞的,使人难堪的 | |
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332 devours | |
吞没( devour的第三人称单数 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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333 garishly | |
adv.鲜艳夺目地,俗不可耐地;华丽地 | |
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334 elusive | |
adj.难以表达(捉摸)的;令人困惑的;逃避的 | |
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335 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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336 acme | |
n.顶点,极点 | |
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337 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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338 plumbing | |
n.水管装置;水暖工的工作;管道工程v.用铅锤测量(plumb的现在分词);探究 | |
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339 halved | |
v.把…分成两半( halve的过去式和过去分词 );把…减半;对分;平摊 | |
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340 dime | |
n.(指美国、加拿大的钱币)一角 | |
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341 flicks | |
(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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342 crouching | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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343 lugging | |
超载运转能力 | |
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344 blackmailed | |
胁迫,尤指以透露他人不体面行为相威胁以勒索钱财( blackmail的过去式 ) | |
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345 awfully | |
adv.可怕地,非常地,极端地 | |
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346 sniff | |
vi.嗅…味道;抽鼻涕;对嗤之以鼻,蔑视 | |
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347 sniffing | |
n.探查法v.以鼻吸气,嗅,闻( sniff的现在分词 );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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348 lair | |
n.野兽的巢穴;躲藏处 | |
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349 dents | |
n.花边边饰;凹痕( dent的名词复数 );凹部;减少;削弱v.使产生凹痕( dent的第三人称单数 );损害;伤害;挫伤(信心、名誉等) | |
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350 tug | |
v.用力拖(或拉);苦干;n.拖;苦干;拖船 | |
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351 elastic | |
n.橡皮圈,松紧带;adj.有弹性的;灵活的 | |
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352 wriggles | |
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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353 amber | |
n.琥珀;琥珀色;adj.琥珀制的 | |
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354 elongates | |
v.延长,加长( elongate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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355 watchful | |
adj.注意的,警惕的 | |
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356 tacks | |
大头钉( tack的名词复数 ); 平头钉; 航向; 方法 | |
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357 pouting | |
v.撅(嘴)( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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358 faucet | |
n.水龙头 | |
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359 yearns | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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360 deign | |
v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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361 attentive | |
adj.注意的,专心的;关心(别人)的,殷勤的 | |
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362 rinses | |
v.漂洗( rinse的第三人称单数 );冲洗;用清水漂洗掉(肥皂泡等);(用清水)冲掉 | |
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363 drenched | |
adj.湿透的;充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 );在某人(某物)上大量使用(某液体) | |
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364 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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365 bleached | |
漂白的,晒白的,颜色变浅的 | |
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366 massages | |
按摩,推拿( massage的名词复数 ) | |
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367 stiffening | |
n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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368 clotting | |
v.凝固( clot的现在分词 );烧结 | |
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369 runaways | |
(轻而易举的)胜利( runaway的名词复数 ) | |
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370 resentments | |
(因受虐待而)愤恨,不满,怨恨( resentment的名词复数 ) | |
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371 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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372 wilted | |
(使)凋谢,枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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373 wavy | |
adj.有波浪的,多浪的,波浪状的,波动的,不稳定的 | |
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374 ripply | |
波纹状的,潺潺声的 | |
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375 glossy | |
adj.平滑的;有光泽的 | |
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376 funnel | |
n.漏斗;烟囱;v.汇集 | |
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377 feverishly | |
adv. 兴奋地 | |
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378 nibbling | |
v.啃,一点一点地咬(吃)( nibble的现在分词 );啃出(洞),一点一点咬出(洞);慢慢减少;小口咬 | |
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379 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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380 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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381 winces | |
避开,畏缩( wince的名词复数 ) | |
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382 fumbles | |
摸索,笨拙的处理( fumble的名词复数 ) | |
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383 raped | |
v.以暴力夺取,强夺( rape的过去式和过去分词 );强奸 | |
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384 linoleum | |
n.油布,油毯 | |
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385 starch | |
n.淀粉;vt.给...上浆 | |
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386 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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387 aquarium | |
n.水族馆,养鱼池,玻璃缸 | |
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388 crumbs | |
int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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389 squelched | |
v.发吧唧声,发扑哧声( squelch的过去式和过去分词 );制止;压制;遏制 | |
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390 mattresses | |
褥垫,床垫( mattress的名词复数 ) | |
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391 nuns | |
n.(通常指基督教的)修女, (佛教的)尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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392 wigs | |
n.假发,法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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393 furry | |
adj.毛皮的;似毛皮的;毛皮制的 | |
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394 lodging | |
n.寄宿,住所;(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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395 ethic | |
n.道德标准,行为准则 | |
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396 rinsing | |
n.清水,残渣v.漂洗( rinse的现在分词 );冲洗;用清水漂洗掉(肥皂泡等);(用清水)冲掉 | |
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397 brats | |
n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
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398 greasy | |
adj. 多脂的,油脂的 | |
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399 collapsing | |
压扁[平],毁坏,断裂 | |
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400 trout | |
n.鳟鱼;鲑鱼(属) | |
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401 horrified | |
a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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402 looming | |
n.上现蜃景(光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼)v.隐约出现,阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 );隐约出现,阴森地逼近 | |
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403 riddle | |
n.谜,谜语,粗筛;vt.解谜,给…出谜,筛,检查,鉴定,非难,充满于;vi.出谜 | |
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404 unfamiliar | |
adj.陌生的,不熟悉的 | |
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405 sloop | |
n.单桅帆船 | |
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406 schooners | |
n.(有两个以上桅杆的)纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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407 schooner | |
n.纵帆船 | |
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408 caulk | |
v.堵缝 | |
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409 hoarsely | |
adv.嘶哑地 | |
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410 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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411 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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412 raisin | |
n.葡萄干 | |
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413 license | |
n.执照,许可证,特许;v.许可,特许 | |
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414 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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415 jersey | |
n.运动衫 | |
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416 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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417 bug | |
n.虫子;故障;窃听器;vt.纠缠;装窃听器 | |
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418 bugs | |
adj.疯狂的,发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 );病菌;虫子;[计算机](制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的)错误 | |
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419 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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420 giggling | |
v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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421 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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422 bouquets | |
n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 );(酒的)芳香 | |
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423 taut | |
adj.拉紧的,绷紧的,紧张的 | |
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424 minors | |
n.未成年人( minor的名词复数 );副修科目;小公司;[逻辑学]小前提v.[主美国英语]副修,选修,兼修( minor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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425 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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426 placated | |
v.安抚,抚慰,使平静( placate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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427 silt | |
n.淤泥,淤沙,粉砂层,泥沙层;vt.使淤塞;vi.被淤塞 | |
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428 quarry | |
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找 | |
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429 insistence | |
n.坚持;强调;坚决主张 | |
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430 corrupted | |
(使)败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)腐化; 引起(计算机文件等的)错误; 破坏 | |
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431 taunting | |
嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 ); 嘲弄; 辱骂; 奚落 | |
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432 stunts | |
n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 );(广告中)引人注目的花招;愚蠢行为;危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长],抑制,妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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433 cubicle | |
n.大房间中隔出的小室 | |
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434 inflated | |
adj.(价格)飞涨的;(通货)膨胀的;言过其实的;充了气的v.使充气(于轮胎、气球等)( inflate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)膨胀;(使)通货膨胀;物价上涨 | |
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435 merges | |
(使)混合( merge的第三人称单数 ); 相融; 融入; 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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436 garbles | |
vt.对(事实)歪曲,对(文章等)断章取义,窜改(garble的第三人称单数形式) | |
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437 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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438 curdled | |
v.(使)凝结( curdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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439 puddles | |
n.水坑, (尤指道路上的)雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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440 reciprocate | |
v.往复运动;互换;回报,酬答 | |
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441 dissuaded | |
劝(某人)勿做某事,劝阻( dissuade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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442 reassured | |
adj.使消除疑虑的;使放心的v.再保证,恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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443 spasm | |
n.痉挛,抽搐;一阵发作 | |
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444 bleats | |
v.(羊,小牛)叫( bleat的第三人称单数 );哭诉;发出羊叫似的声音;轻声诉说 | |
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445 psychiatry | |
n.精神病学,精神病疗法 | |
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446 nausea | |
n.作呕,恶心;极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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447 nauseate | |
v.使作呕;使感到恶心;使厌恶 | |
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448 sneaks | |
abbr.sneakers (tennis shoes) 胶底运动鞋(网球鞋)v.潜行( sneak的第三人称单数 );偷偷溜走;(儿童向成人)打小报告;告状 | |
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449 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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450 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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451 ramps | |
resources allocation and multiproject scheduling 资源分配和多项目的行程安排 | |
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452 fingerprints | |
n.指纹( fingerprint的名词复数 )v.指纹( fingerprint的第三人称单数 ) | |
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453 stink | |
vi.发出恶臭;糟透,招人厌恶;n.恶臭 | |
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454 avalanche | |
n.雪崩,大量涌来 | |
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455 tuned | |
adj.调谐的,已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 );调整;(给收音机、电视等)调谐;使协调 | |
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456 egos | |
自我,自尊,自负( ego的名词复数 ) | |
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457 ballroom | |
n.舞厅 | |
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458 tilted | |
v. 倾斜的 | |
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459 laconic | |
adj.简洁的;精练的 | |
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460 pitcher | |
n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐;(棒球)投手 | |
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461 cosmos | |
n.宇宙;秩序,和谐 | |
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462 erasing | |
v.擦掉( erase的现在分词 );抹去;清除 | |
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463 nostrils | |
鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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464 specks | |
n.眼镜;斑点,微粒,污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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465 blithely | |
adv.欢乐地,快活地,无挂虑地 | |
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466 blithe | |
adj.快乐的,无忧无虑的 | |
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467 sunbathed | |
日光浴( sunbathe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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468 redeemed | |
adj. 可赎回的,可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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469 convertible | |
adj.可改变的,可交换,同意义的;n.有活动摺篷的汽车 | |
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470 hawk | |
n.鹰,骗子;鹰派成员 | |
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471 zoom | |
n.急速上升;v.突然扩大,急速上升 | |
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472 steer | |
vt.驾驶,为…操舵;引导;vi.驾驶 | |
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473 hawks | |
鹰( hawk的名词复数 ); 鹰派人物,主战派人物 | |
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474 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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475 hovers | |
鸟( hover的第三人称单数 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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476 sodden | |
adj.浑身湿透的;v.使浸透;使呆头呆脑 | |
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477 flicker | |
vi./n.闪烁,摇曳,闪现 | |
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478 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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479 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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480 intestines | |
n.肠( intestine的名词复数 ) | |
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481 miseries | |
n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 );痛苦的事;穷困;常发牢骚的人 | |
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482 appreciative | |
adj.有鉴赏力的,有眼力的;感激的 | |
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483 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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484 confides | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的第三人称单数 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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485 stabilized | |
v.(使)稳定, (使)稳固( stabilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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486 makeup | |
n.组织;性格;化装品 | |
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487 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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488 slumps | |
萧条期( slump的名词复数 ); (个人、球队等的)低潮状态; (销售量、价格、价值等的)骤降; 猛跌 | |
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489 confidingly | |
adv.信任地 | |
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490 raves | |
n.狂欢晚会( rave的名词复数 )v.胡言乱语( rave的第三人称单数 );愤怒地说;咆哮;痴心地说 | |
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491 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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492 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
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493 wry | |
adj.讽刺的;扭曲的 | |
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494 dangling | |
悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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495 sinewy | |
adj.多腱的,强壮有力的 | |
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496 brooks | |
n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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497 flaked | |
精疲力竭的,失去知觉的,睡去的 | |
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498 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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499 defiance | |
n.挑战,挑衅,蔑视,违抗 | |
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500 concealing | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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501 microscopic | |
adj.微小的,细微的,极小的,显微的 | |
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502 buckles | |
搭扣,扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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503 hisses | |
嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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504 idiotic | |
adj.白痴的 | |
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505 bumming | |
发哼(声),蜂鸣声 | |
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506 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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507 bastard | |
n.坏蛋,混蛋;私生子 | |
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508 tugs | |
n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 );猛拖;拖船v.用力拉,使劲拉,猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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509 sobs | |
啜泣(声),呜咽(声)( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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510 filet | |
n.肉片;鱼片 | |
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511 chestnuts | |
n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 );栗色;栗树;栗色马 | |
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512 fads | |
n.一时的流行,一时的风尚( fad的名词复数 ) | |
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513 deterioration | |
n.退化;恶化;变坏 | |
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514 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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515 seep | |
v.渗出,渗漏;n.渗漏,小泉,水(油)坑 | |
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516 jug | |
n.(有柄,小口,可盛水等的)大壶,罐,盂 | |
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517 cuisine | |
n.烹调,烹饪法 | |
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518 dressing | |
n.(食物)调料;包扎伤口的用品,敷料 | |
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519 lettuce | |
n.莴苣;生菜 | |
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520 doughy | |
adj.面团的,苍白的,半熟的;软弱无力 | |
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521 concocts | |
v.将(尤指通常不相配合的)成分混合成某物( concoct的第三人称单数 );调制;编造;捏造 | |
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522 watery | |
adj.有水的,水汪汪的;湿的,湿润的 | |
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523 contentedly | |
adv.心满意足地 | |
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524 stanza | |
n.(诗)节,段 | |
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525 frets | |
基质间片; 品丝(吉他等指板上定音的)( fret的名词复数 ) | |
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526 strands | |
n.(线、绳、金属线、毛发等的)股( strand的名词复数 );缕;海洋、湖或河的)岸;(观点、计划、故事等的)部份v.使滞留,使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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527 mellow | |
adj.柔和的;熟透的;v.变柔和;(使)成熟 | |
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528 bruise | |
n.青肿,挫伤;伤痕;vt.打青;挫伤 | |
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529 poking | |
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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530 comely | |
adj.漂亮的,合宜的 | |
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531 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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532 braces | |
n.吊带,背带;托架( brace的名词复数 );箍子;括弧;(儿童)牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 );撑牢;使自己站稳;振作起来 | |
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533 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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534 reclaim | |
v.要求归还,收回;开垦 | |
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535 foams | |
n.泡沫,泡沫材料( foam的名词复数 ) | |
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536 offbeat | |
adj.不平常的,离奇的 | |
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537 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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538 heroin | |
n.海洛因 | |
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539 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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540 mundane | |
adj.平凡的;尘世的;宇宙的 | |
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541 wheedle | |
v.劝诱,哄骗 | |
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542 sane | |
adj.心智健全的,神志清醒的,明智的,稳健的 | |
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543 racism | |
n.民族主义;种族歧视(意识) | |
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544 rampant | |
adj.(植物)蔓生的;狂暴的,无约束的 | |
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545 blurts | |
v.突然说出,脱口而出( blurt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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546 savings | |
n.存款,储蓄 | |
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547 hopped | |
跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 ); 单足蹦跳; 齐足(或双足)跳行; 摘葎草花 | |
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548 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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549 elation | |
n.兴高采烈,洋洋得意 | |
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550 nostalgia | |
n.怀乡病,留恋过去,怀旧 | |
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551 hamper | |
vt.妨碍,束缚,限制;n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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552 compliance | |
n.顺从;服从;附和;屈从 | |
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553 stiffens | |
(使)变硬,(使)强硬( stiffen的第三人称单数 ) | |
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554 locker | |
n.更衣箱,储物柜,冷藏室,上锁的人 | |
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555 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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556 boulder | |
n.巨砾;卵石,圆石 | |
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557 insistent | |
adj.迫切的,坚持的 | |
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558 kindles | |
(使某物)燃烧,着火( kindle的第三人称单数 ); 激起(感情等); 发亮,放光 | |
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559 lengthens | |
(时间或空间)延长,伸长( lengthen的第三人称单数 ) | |
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560 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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561 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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562 phoenix | |
n.凤凰,长生(不死)鸟;引申为重生 | |
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563 intercepts | |
(数学)截距( intercept的名词复数 ) | |
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564 brittle | |
adj.易碎的;脆弱的;冷淡的;(声音)尖利的 | |
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565 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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566 soda | |
n.苏打水;汽水 | |
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567 nude | |
adj.裸体的;n.裸体者,裸体艺术品 | |
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568 scrolling | |
n.卷[滚]动法,上下换行v.(电脑屏幕上)从上到下移动(资料等),卷页( scroll的现在分词 );(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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569 dangles | |
悬吊着( dangle的第三人称单数 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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570 shacking | |
vi.未婚而同居(shack的现在分词形式) | |
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571 odds | |
n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别 | |
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572 hunches | |
预感,直觉( hunch的名词复数 ) | |
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573 lured | |
吸引,引诱(lure的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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574 fulfill | |
vt.履行,实现,完成;满足,使满意 | |
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575 twitching | |
n.颤搐 | |
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576 coalition | |
n.结合体,同盟,结合,联合 | |
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577 unbearably | |
adv.不能忍受地,无法容忍地;慌 | |
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578 fanatic | |
n.狂热者,入迷者;adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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579 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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580 drowsy | |
adj.昏昏欲睡的,令人发困的 | |
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581 sneaked | |
v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 );偷偷溜走;(儿童向成人)打小报告;告状 | |
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582 overtime | |
adj.超时的,加班的;adv.加班地 | |
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583 viper | |
n.毒蛇;危险的人 | |
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584 hazed | |
v.(使)笼罩在薄雾中( haze的过去式和过去分词 );戏弄,欺凌(新生等,有时作为加入美国大学生联谊会的条件) | |
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585 snarled | |
v.(指狗)吠,嗥叫, (人)咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 );咆哮着说,厉声地说 | |
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586 outfit | |
n.(为特殊用途的)全套装备,全套服装 | |
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587 delinquents | |
n.(尤指青少年)有过失的人,违法的人( delinquent的名词复数 ) | |
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588 follies | |
罪恶,时事讽刺剧; 愚蠢,蠢笨,愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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589 honeymoon | |
n.蜜月(假期);vi.度蜜月 | |
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590 salmon | |
n.鲑,大马哈鱼,橙红色的 | |
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591 passerby | |
n.过路人,行人 | |
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592 hurls | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的第三人称单数 );大声叫骂 | |
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593 scintillates | |
v.(言谈举止中)焕发才智( scintillate的第三人称单数 );谈笑洒脱;闪耀;闪烁 | |
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594 spotlights | |
n.聚光灯(的光)( spotlight的名词复数 );公众注意的中心v.聚光照明( spotlight的第三人称单数 );使公众注意,使突出醒目 | |
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595 lurid | |
adj.可怕的;血红的;苍白的 | |
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596 penumbral | |
adj.日月半影的 | |
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597 suppliants | |
n.恳求者,哀求者( suppliant的名词复数 ) | |
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598 excavations | |
n.挖掘( excavation的名词复数 );开凿;开凿的洞穴(或山路等);(发掘出来的)古迹 | |
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599 antiquities | |
n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 );古迹;古人们;古代的风俗习惯 | |
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600 demolition | |
n.破坏,毁坏,毁坏之遗迹 | |
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601 reconstruction | |
n.重建,再现,复原 | |
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602 prohibition | |
n.禁止;禁令,禁律 | |
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603 mortars | |
n.迫击炮( mortar的名词复数 );砂浆;房产;研钵 | |
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604 plows | |
n.犁( plow的名词复数 );犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 );犁耕;费力穿过 | |
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605 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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606 struts | |
(框架的)支杆( strut的名词复数 ); 支柱; 趾高气扬的步态; (尤指跳舞或表演时)卖弄 | |
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607 pensive | |
a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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608 subdue | |
vt.制服,使顺从,征服;抑制,克制 | |
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609 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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610 miraculous | |
adj.像奇迹一样的,不可思议的 | |
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611 rattling | |
adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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612 snare | |
n.陷阱,诱惑,圈套;(去除息肉或者肿瘤的)勒除器;响弦,小军鼓;vt.以陷阱捕获,诱惑 | |
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613 tardy | |
adj.缓慢的,迟缓的 | |
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614 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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615 gauge | |
v.精确计量;估计;n.标准度量;计量器 | |
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616 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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617 grits | |
n.粗磨粉;粗面粉;粗燕麦粉;粗玉米粉;细石子,砂粒等( grit的名词复数 );勇气和毅力v.以沙砾覆盖(某物),撒沙砾于( grit的第三人称单数 );咬紧牙关 | |
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618 pint | |
n.品脱 | |
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619 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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620 observatory | |
n.天文台,气象台,瞭望台,观测台 | |
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621 retinue | |
n.侍从;随员 | |
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622 slag | |
n.熔渣,铁屑,矿渣;v.使变成熔渣,变熔渣 | |
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623 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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624 bristling | |
a.竖立的 | |
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625 ascending | |
adj.上升的,向上的 | |
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626 fumed | |
愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 ); 大怒; 发怒; 冒烟 | |
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627 cones | |
n.(人眼)圆锥细胞;圆锥体( cone的名词复数 );球果;圆锥形东西;(盛冰淇淋的)锥形蛋卷筒 | |
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628 scoops | |
n.小铲( scoop的名词复数 );小勺;一勺[铲]之量;(抢先刊载、播出的)独家新闻v.抢先报道( scoop的第三人称单数 );(敏捷地)抱起;抢先获得;用铲[勺]等挖(洞等) | |
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629 caption | |
n.说明,字幕,标题;v.加上标题,加上说明 | |
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630 queasy | |
adj.易呕的 | |
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631 ambushed | |
v.埋伏( ambush的过去式和过去分词 );埋伏着 | |
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632 dagger | |
n.匕首,短剑,剑号 | |
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