"Shit, the world's filling up with Nam veterans so fast there won't be nobody else soon, right? Never forget, got into a lighthouse up near Tuy Hoa, white walls all over, everybody been there one time or another and done their drawings. Well, what blew my mind, absolutely, was somebody, Charlie or the unfriendlies, Arvin never been near this place till we handed it to 'em, somebody on that other side had done a whole wall's worth of Uncle Ho himself, Uncle Ho being buggered, Uncle Ho shitting skulls3, Uncle Ho doing this and that, it was downright disrespectful, right? And I says to myself, those poor dinks being screwed the same as us, we is all in the grip of crazy old men thinkin' they can still make history happen. History isn't going to happen any more, Chuck."
"What is going to happen?" Nelson asks.
"A bad mess," Skeeter answers, "then, most probably, Me."
Nelson's eyes seek his father's, as they do now when Skeeter's craziness shows. "Dad, shouldn't we wake up Jill?"
Harry4 is into his second beer and his first joint5; his stockinged feet are up on the cobbler's bench. "Why? Let her sleep. Don't be so uptight6."
"No sub," Skeeter says, "the boy has a good plan there, where is that fucking little Jill? I do feel horny."
Nelson asks, "What's horny?"
"Horny is what I feel," Skeeter answers. "Babychuck, go drag down that no?good cunt. Tell her the menfolk needs their vittles."
"Dad -"
"Come on, Nellie, quit nagging7. Do what he asks. Don't you have any homework? Do it upstairs, this is a grown?up evening."
When Nelson is gone, Rabbit can breathe. "Skeeter, one thing I don't understand, how do you feel about the Cone8? I mean are they right, or wrong, or what?"
"Man by man, or should I say gook by gook, they are very beautiful, truly. So brave they must be tripping, and a lot of them no older than little Nellie, right? As a bunch, I never could dig what they was all about, except that we was white or black as the case may be, and they was yellow, and had got there first, right? Otherwise I can't say they made a great deal of sense, since the people they most liked to castrate and string up and bury in ditches alive and make that kind of scene with was yellow like them, right? So I would consider them one more facet9 of the confusion of false prophecy by which you may recognize My coming in this the fullness of time. However. However, I confess that politics being part of this boring power thing do not much turn me on. Things human turn me on, right? You too, right, Chuck? Here she is."
Jill has drifted in. Her skin looks tight on her face.
Rabbit asks her, "Hungry? Make yourself a peanut?butter sandwich. That's what we had to do."
"I'm not hungry."
Trying to be Skeeter, Rabbit goads10 her. "Christ, you should be. You're skinny as a stick. What the hell kind of piece of ass11 are you, there's nothing there anymore? Why you think we keep you here?"
She ignores him and speaks to Skeeter. "I'm in need," she tells him.
"Shee?yut, girl, we're all in need, right? The whole world's in need, isn't that what we done agreed on, Chuck? The whole benighted12 world is in need of Me. And Me, I'm in need of something else. Bring your cunt over here, white girl."
Now she does look toward Rabbit. He cannot help her. She has always been out of his class. She sits down on the sofa beside Skeeter and asks him gently, "What? If I do it, will you do it?"
"Might. Tell you what, Jill honey. Let's do it for the man."
"What man?"
"The man. That man. Victor Charlie over there. He wants it. What you think he's keepin' us here for? To breed, that's what for. Hey. Friend Harry?"
"I'm listening."
"You like being a nigger, don't ya?"
"I do."
"You want to be a good nigger, right?"
"Right." The sad rustling13 on the ceiling, of Nelson in his room, feels far distant. Don't come down. Stay up there. The smoke mixes with his veins14 and his lungs are a branching tree.
"O.K.," Skeeter says. "Now here's how. You is a big black man sittin' right there. You is chained to that chair. And I, I is white as snow. Be?hold." And Skeeter, with that electric scuttling16 suddenness, stands, and pulls off his shirt. In the room's deep dusk his upper half disappears. Then he scrabbles at himself at belt?level and his lower half disappears. Only his glasses remain, silver circles. His voice, disembodied, is the darkness. Slowly his head, a round cloud, tells against the blue light from the streetlamp at the end of the Crescent. "And this little girl here," he calls, "is black as coal. An ebony virgin17 torn from the valley of the river Niger, right? Stand up, honey, show us your teeth. Turn clean around." The black shadows of his hands glide18 into the white blur19 Jill is, and guide it upward, as a potter guides a lump of clay upward on the humming wheel, into a vase. She keeps rising, smoke from the vase. Her dress is being lifted over her head. "Turn around, honey, show us your rump." A soft slap gilds20 the darkness, the whiteness revolves21. Rabbit's eyes, enlarged, can sift22 out shades of light and dark, can begin to model the bodies six feet from him, across the cobbler's bench. He can see the dark crack between Jill's buttocks, the faint dent23 her hip24 muscle makes, the shadowy mane between her starved hipbones. Her belly26 looks long. Where her breasts should be, black spiders are fighting: he sorts these out as Skeeter's hands. Skeeter is whispering to Jill, murmuring, while his hands flutter like bats against the moon. He hears her say, in a voice sifted27 through her hair, a sentence with the word "satisfy" in it.
Skeeter cackles: forked lightning. "Now," he sings, and his voice has become golden hoops28 spinning forward, an auctioneer who is a juggler29, "we will have a demon30?stray?shun31 of o?bee?deeyance, from this little coal?black lady, who has been broken in by expert traders working out of Nashville, Tennessee, and who is guaranteed by them ab?so?lutily to give no trouble in the kitchen, hallway, stable or bedroom!" Another soft slap, and the white clay dwindles33; Jill is kneeling, while Skeeter still stands. A most delicate slipping silvery sound touches up the silence now; but Rabbit cannot precisely34 see. He needs to see. The driftwood lamp is behind him. Not turning his head, he gropes and switches it on.
Nice.
What he sees reminds him, in the first flash, of the printing process, an inked plate contiguous at some few points to white paper. As his eyes adjust, he sees Skeeter is not black, he is a gentle brown. These are smooth?skinned children being gently punished, one being made to stand and the other to kneel. Skeeter crouches35 and reaches down a long hand, fingernails like baby rose petals37, to shield Jill's profile from the glare. Her eyelids38 remain closed, her mouth remains39 open, her breasts cast no shadow they are so shallow, she is feminine most in the swell40 of her backside spread on her propping41 heels and in the white lily of a hand floating beside his balls as if to receive from the air a baton42. An inch or two of Skeeter's long cock is un?enclosed by her face, a purplish inch bleached43 to lilac, below his metallic44 pubic explosion, the shape and texture45 of his goatee. Keeping his protective crouch36, Skeeter turns his face sheepishly toward the light; his eyeglasses glare opaquely46 and his upper lip lifts in imitation of pain. "Hey man, what's with that? Cut that light."
"You're beautiful," Rabbit says.
"O.K., strip and get into it, she's full of holes, right?"
"I'm scared to," Rabbit confesses: it is true, they seem not only beautiful but in the same vision an interlocked machine that might pull him apart.
Though the slap of light left her numb47, this confession48 pierces Jill's trance; she turns her head, Skeeter's penis falling free, a bright string of moisture breaking. She looks at Harry, past him; as he reaches to switch off the light mercifully, she screams. In the corner of his vision, he saw it too: a face. At the window. Eyes like two cigarette burns. The lamp is out, the face is vanished. The window is a faintly blue rectangle in a black room. Rabbit runs to the front door and opens it. The night air bites. October. The lawn looks artificial, lifeless, dry, no?color: a snapshot of grass. Vista51 Crescent stretches empty but for parked cars. The maple52 is too slender to hide anyone. A child might have made it across the front of the house along the flowerbeds and be now in the garage. The garage door is up. And, if the child is Nelson, a door from the garage leads into the kitchen. Rabbit decides not to look, not to give chase; he feels that there is no space for him to step into, that the vista before him is a flat, stiff, cold photograph. The only thing that moves is the vapor53 of his breathing. He closes the door. He hears nothing move in the kitchen. He tells the living room, "Nobody."
"Bad," Skeeter says. His prick54 has quite relaxed, a whip between his legs as he squats55. Jill is weeping on the floor; face down, she has curled her naked body into a knot. Her bottom forms the top half of a valentine heart, only white; her fleshcolored hair fans spilled over the sullen57 green carpet. Rabbit and Skeeter together squat56 to pick her up. She fights it, she makes herself roll over limply; her hair streams across her face, clouds her mouth, adheres like cobwebs to her chin and throat. A string as of milkweed spittle is on her chin; Rabbit wipes her chin and mouth with his handkerchief and, for weeks afterward58, when all is lost, will take out this handkerchief and bury his nose in it, in its scarcely detectable59 smell of distant ocean.
Jill's lips are moving. She is saying, "You promised. You promised." She is talking to Skeeter. Though Rabbit bends his big face over hers, she has eyes only for the narrow black face beside him. There is no green in her eyes, the black pupils have eclipsed the irises60. "It's such dumb hell," she says, with a little whimper, as if to mock her own complaint, a Connecticut housewife who knows she exaggerates. "Oh Christ," she adds in an older voice and shuts her eyes. Rabbit touches her; she is sweating. At his touch, she starts to shiver. He wants to blanket her, to blanket her with his body if there is nothing else, but she will talk only to Skeeter. Rabbit is not there for her, he only thinks he is here.
Skeeter asks down into her, "Who's your Lord Jesus, Jill honey?" "You are."
"I am, right?"
"Right."
"You love me more'n you love yourself?"
"Much more."
"What do you see when you look at me, Jill honey?"
"I don't know."
"You see a giant lily, right?"
"Right. You promised."
"Love my cock?"
"Yes."
"Love my jism, sweet Jill? Love it in your veins?"
"Yes. Please. Shoot me. You promised."
"I your Savior, right? Right?"
"You promised. You must. Skeeter."
"O.K. Tell me I'm your Savior."
"You are. Hurry. You did promise."
"O.K." Skeeter explains hurriedly. "I'll fix her up. You go upstairs, Chuck. I don't want you to see this."
"I want to see it."
"Not this. It's bad, man. Bad, bad, bad. It's shit. Stay clean, you in deep enough trouble on account of me without being party to this, right? Split. I'm begging, man."
Rabbit understands. They are in country. They have taken a hostage. Everywhere out there, there are unfriendlies. He checks the front door, staying down below the three windows echoing the three chime?tones. He sneaks61 into the kitchen. Nobody is there. He slips the bolt across, in the door that opens from the garage. Sidling to make his shadow narrow, he climbs upstairs. At Nelson's door he listens for the sound of unconscious breathing. He hears the boy's breath rasp, touching62 bottom. In his own bedroom, the streetlamp prints negative spatters of the maple leaves on his wallpaper. He gets into bed in his underwear, in case he must rise and run; as a child, in summer, he would have to sleep in his underwear when the wash hadn't dried on the line. Rabbit listens to the noises downstairs ? clicking, clucking kitchen noises, of a pan being put on the stove, of a bit of glass clinking, of footsteps across the linoleum63, the sounds that have always made him sleepy, of Mom up, of the world being tended to. His thoughts begin to dissolve, though his heart keeps pounding, waves breaking on Jill's white valentine, stamped on his retinas like the sun. Offset64 versus65 letterpress, offset never has the bite of the other, looks greasy66, the wave of the future. She slips into bed beside him; her valentine nestles cool against his belly and silken limp cock. He has been asleep. He asks her, "Is it late?"
Jill speaks very slowly. "Pretty late."
"How do you feel?"
"Better. For now."
"We got to get you to a doctor."
"It won't help."
He has a better idea, so obvious he cannot imagine why he has never thought of it before. "We got to get you back to your father."
"You forget. He's dead."
"Your mother, then."
"The car's dead."
"We'll get it out of hock."
"It's too late," Jill tells him. "It's too late for you to try to love me."
He wants to answer, but there is a puzzling heavy truth in this that carries him under, his hand caressing67 the inward dip of her waist, a warm bird dipping toward its nest.
Sunshine, the old clown. So many maple leaves have fallen that morning light slants68 in baldly. A headache grazes his skull2, his dream (Pajasek and he were in a canoe, paddling upstream, through a dark green country; their destination felt to be a distant mountain striped and folded like a tablecloth69. "When can I have my silver bullet?" Rabbit asked him. "You promised." "Fool," Pajasek told him. "Stupid." "You know so much more," Rabbit answered, nonsensically, and his heart opened in a flood of light) merges71 with the night before, both unreal. Jill sleeps dewily beside him; at the base of her throat, along her hairline, sweat has collected and glistens72. Delicately, not to disturb her, he takes her wrist and turns it so he can see the inside of her freckled73 arm. They might be bee?stings. There are not too many. He can talk to Janice. Then he remembers that Janice is not here, and that only Nelson is their child. He eases from the bed, amused to discover himself in underwear, like those times when Mom had left his pajamas74 on the line to dry.
After breakfast, while Jill and Skeeter sleep, he and Nelson rake and mow75 the lawn, putting it to bed for the winter. He hopes this will be the last mowing76, though in fact the grass, parched77 in high spots, is vigorously green where a depression holds moisture, and along a line from the kitchen to the street ?perhaps the sewer78 connection is broken and seeping79, that is why the earth of Penn ?Villas80 has a sweetish stink81. And the leaves?he calls to Nelson, who has to shut off the razzing mower82 to listen, "How the hell does such a skinny little tree produce so many leaves?"
"They aren't all its leaves. They blow in from the other trees."
And he looks, and sees that his neighbors have trees, saplings like his, but some already as tall as the housetops. Someday Nelson may come back to this, his childhood neighborhood, and find it strangely dark, buried in shade, the lawns opulent, the homes venerable. Rabbit hears children calling in other yards, and sees across several fences and driveways kids having a Saturday scrimmage, one voice piping, "I'm free, I'm free," and the ball obediently floating. This isn't a bad neighborhood, he thinks, this could be a nice place if you gave it a chance. And around the other houses men with rakes and mowers mirror him. He asks Nelson, before the boy restarts the mower, "Aren't you going to visit your mother today?"
"Tomorrow. Today she and Charlie were driving up to the Poconos, to look at the foliage83. They went with some brother of Charlie's and his wife."
"Boy, she's moving right in." A real Springer. He smiles to himself, perversely84 proud. The legal stationery85 must be on the way. And then he can join that army of the unattached, of Brewer86 geezers. Human garbage, Pop used to say. He better enjoy Vista Crescent while he has it. He resumes raking, and listens for the mower's razzing to resume. Instead, there is the lurch88 and rattle89 of the starter, repeated, and Nelson's voice calling, "Hey Dad. I think it's out of gas."
A Saturday, then, of small sunlit tasks, acts of caretaking and commerce. He and Nelson stroll with the empty five?gallon can up to Weiser Street and get it filled at the Getty station. Returning, they meet Jill and Skeeter emerging from the house, dressed to kill. Skeeter wears stovepipe pants, alligator90 shoes, a maroon91 turtleneck and a peach?colored cardigan. He looks like the newest thing in golf pros92. Jill has on her mended white dress and a brown sweater of Harry's; she suggests a cheerleader, off to the noon pep rally before the football game. Her face, though thin, and the skin of it thin and brittle93 like isinglass, has a pink flush; she seems excited, affectionate. "There's some salami and lettuce94 in the fridge for you and Nelson to make lunch with if you want. Skeeter and I are going into Brewer to see what we can do about this wretched car. And we thought we might drop in on Babe. We'll be back late this after. Maybe you should visit your mother this afternoon, I feel guilty you never do."
"O.K., I might. You O.K.?" To Skeeter: "You have bus fare?"
In his clothes Skeeter puts on a dandy's accent; he thrusts out his goatee and says between scarcely parted teeth, ` Jilly is loaded. And if we run short, your name is good credit, right?" Rabbit tries to recall the naked man of last night, the dangling97 penis, the jutting98 heels, the squat as by a jungle fire, and cannot; it was another terrain99.
Serious, a daylight man, he scolds: "You better get back before Nelson and I go out around six. I don't want to leave the house empty." He drops his voice so Nelson won't hear. "After last night, I'm kind of spooked."
"What happened last night?" Skeeter asks. "Nothin' spooky that I can remember, we'se all jest folks, livin' out life in these Benighted States." He has put on all his armor, nothing will get to him.
Rabbit tests it: "You're a baad nigger."
Skeeter smiles in the sunshine with angelic rows of teeth; his spectacles toss halos higher than the TV aerials. "Now you're singing my song," he says.
Rabbit asks Jill, "You O.K. with this crazyman?"
She says lightly, "He's my sugar daddy," and puts her arm through his, and linked like that they recede100 down Vista Crescent, and vanish in the shufe of picture windows.
Rabbit and Nelson finish the lawn. They eat, and toss a football around for a while, and then the boy asks if he can go off and join the scrimmage whose shouts they can hear, he knows some of the kids, the same kids who look into windows but that's O.K., Dad; and really it does feel as though all can be forgiven, all will sink into Saturday's America like rain into earth, like days into time. Rabbit goes into the house and watches the first game of the World Series, Baltimore outclassing the Mets, for a while, and switches to Penn State outclassing West Virginia at football, and, unable to sit still any longer with the bubble of premonition swelling101 inside him, goes to the phone and calls his home. "Hi Pop, hey. I thought of coming over this after but the kid is outside playing a game and we have to go over to Fosnachts tonight anyhow, so can she wait until tomorrow? Mom. Also I ought to get hot on changing the screens around to storm windows, it felt chilly102 last night."
"She can wait, Harry. Your mother does a lot of waiting these days."
"Yeah, well." He means it's not his fault, he didn't invent old age. "When is Mim coming in?"
"Any day now, we don't know the exact day. She'll just arrive, is how she left it. Her old room is ready."
"How's Mom sleeping lately? She still having dreams?"
"Strange you should ask, Harry. I always said, you and your mother are almost psychic103. Her dreams are getting worse. She dreamed last night we buried her alive. You and me and Mim together. She said only Nelson tried to stop it."
"Gee87, maybe she's warming up to Nelson at last."
"And Janice called us this morning."
"What about? I'd hate to have Stavros's phone bill."
"Difficult to say, what about. She had nothing concrete that we could fathom104, she just seems to want to keep in touch. I think she's having terrible second thoughts, Harry. She says she's exceedingly worried about you."
"I bet."
"Your mother and I spent a lot of time discussing her call; you know our Mary, she's never one to admit when she's disturbed -"
"Pop, there's somebody at the door. Tell Mom I'll be over tomorrow, absolutely."
There had been nobody at the door. He had suddenly been unable to keep talking to his father, every word of the old man's dragging with reproach. But having lied frightens him now; "nobody" has become an evil presence at the door. Moving through the rooms stealthily, he searches the house for the kit32 Skeeter must use to fix Jill with. He can picture it from having watched television: the syringe and tourniquet105 and the long spoon to melt the powder in. The sofa cushions divulge106 a dollar in change, a bent107 paperback108 of Soul on Ice, a pearl from an earring109 or pocketbook. Jill's bureau drawers upstairs conceal110 nothing under the underwear but a box of Tampax, a packet of hairpins111, a halffull card of Enovid pills, a shy little tube of ointment112 for acne. The last place he thinks to look is the downstairs closet, fitted into an ill?designed corner beside the useless fireplace, along the wall of stained pine where the seascape hangs that Janice bought at Kroll's complete with frame, one piece in fact with its frame, a single shaped sheet of plastic, Rabbit remembers from hanging it on the nail. In this closet, beneath the polyethylene bags holding their winter clothes, including the mink113 stole old man Springer gave Janice on her twenty?first birthday, there is a squat black suitcase, smelling new, with a combination lock. Packed so Skeeter could grab it and run from the house in thirty seconds. Rabbit fiddles114 with the lock, trying combinations at random115, trusting to God to make a very minor116 miracle, then, this failing, going at it by system, beginning 111, 112, 113, 114, and then 211, 212, 213, but never hits it, and the practical infinity117 of numbers opens under him dizzyingly. Some dust in the closet starts him sneezing. He goes outdoors with the Windex bottle for the storm windows.
This work soothes119 him. You slide up the aluminum120 screen, putting the summer behind you, and squirt the inside window with the blue spray, give it those big square swipes to spread it thin, and apply the tighter rubbing to remove the film and with it the dirt; it squeaks121, like birdsong. Then slide the winter window down from the slot where it has been waiting since April and repeat the process; and go inside and repeat the process, twice: so that at last four flawless transparencies pennit outdoors to come indoors, other houses to enter yours.
Toward five o'clock Skeeter and Jill return, by taxi. They are jubilant; through Babe they found a man willing to give them six hundred dollars for the Porsche. He drove them upcounty, he examined the car, and Jill signed the registration122 over to him.
"What color was he?" Rabbit asks.
"He was green," Skeeter says, showing him ten?dollar bills fanned in his hand.
Rabbit asks Jill, "Why'd you split it with him?"
Skeeter says, "I dig hostility123. You want your cut, right?" His lips push, his glasses glint.
Jill laughs it off. "Skeeter's my partner in crime," she says.
"You want my advice, what you should do with that money?" Rabbit says. "You should get a train ticket back to Stonington."
"The trains don't run any more. Anyway, I thought I'd buy some new dresses. Aren't you tired of this ratty old white one? I had to pin it up in the front and wear this sweater over it."
"It suits you," he says.
She takes up the challenge in his tone. "Something bugging124 you?"
"Just your sloppiness125. You're throwing your fucking life away."
"Would you like me to leave? I could now."
His arms go numb as if injected: his hands feel heavy, his palms tingly and swollen126. Her nibbling127 mouth, her apple hardness, the seafan of her cedar128?colored hair on their pillows in the morning light, her white valentine of packed satin. "No," he begs, "don't go yet."
"Why not?"
"You're under my skin." The phrase feels unnatural129 on his lips, puffs130 them like a dry wind in passing; it must have been spoken for Skeeter, for Skeeter cackles appreciatively.
"Chuck, you're leaming to be a loser. I love it. The Lord loves it: Losers gonna grab the earth, right?"
Nelson returns from the football game with a bruised131 upper lip, his smile lopsided and happy. "They give you a hard time?" Rabbit asks.
"No, it was fun. Skeeter, you ought to play next Saturday, they asked who you were and I said you used to be a quarterback for Brewer High."
"Quarterback, shit, I was full back, I was so small they couldn't find me."
"I don't mind being small, it makes you quicker."
"O.K.," his father says, "see how quick you can take a bath. And for once in your life brush your hair."
Festively132 Jill and Skeeter see them off to the Fosnachts. Jill straightens Rabbit's tie, Skeeter dusts his shoulders like a Pullman porter. "Just think, honey," Skeeter says to Jill, "our little boy's all growed up, his first date."
"It's just dinner," Rabbit protests. "I'll be back for the eleveno'clock news."
"That big honky with the sideways eyes, she may have something planned for dessert."
"You stay as late as you want," Jill tells him. "We'll leave the porch light on and won't wait up."
"What're you two going to do tonight?"
"Jes' read and knit and sit cozy133 by the fire," Skeeter tells him.
"Her number's in the book if you need to get ahold of me. Under just M."
"We won't disturb you," Jill tells him.
Nelson unexpectedly says, "Skeeter, lock the doors and don't go outside unless you have to."
The Negro pats the boy's brushed hair. "Wouldn't dream of it, chile. Ol' tarbaby, he just stay right here in his briar patch."
Nelson says suddenly, panicking, "Dad, we shouldn't go."
"Don't be dumb." They go. Orange sunlight stripes with long shadows the spaces of flat lawn between the low houses. As Vista Crescent curves, the sun moves behind them and Rabbit is struck, seeing their elongated134 shadows side by side, by how much like himself Nelson walks: the same loose lope below, the same faintly tense stillness of the head and shoulders above. In shadow the boy, like himself, is as tall as the giant at the top of the beanstalk, treading the sidewalk on telescoping legs. Rabbit turns to speak. Beside him, the boy's overlong dark hair bounces as he strides to keep up, lugging135 his pajamas and toothbrush and change of underwear and sweater in a paper grocery bag for tomorrow's boat ride, an early birthday party. Rabbit finds there is nothing to say, just mute love spinning down, love for this extension of himself downward into time when he will be in the grave, love cool as the flame of sunlight burning level among the stick?thin maples137 and fallen leaves, themselves flames curling.
And from Peggy's windows Brewer glows and dwindles like ashes in a gigantic hearth138. The river shines blue long after the shores turn black. There is a puppy in the apartment now, a fuzzy big?pawed Golden that tugs139 at Rabbit's hand with a slippery nipping mouth; its fur, touched, is as surprising in its softness as ferns. Peggy has remembered he likes Daiquiris; this time she has mix and the electric blender rattles140 with ice before she brings him his drink, half froth. She has aged141 a month: a pound or two around her waist, two or three more gray hairs showing at her parting. She has gathered her hair back in a twist, rather than letting it straggle around her face as if she were still in high school. Her face looks pushed?forward, scrubbed, glossy142. She tells him wearily, "Ollie and I may be getting back together."
She is wearing a blue dress, secretarial, that suits her more than that paisley that kept riding up her pasty thighs143. "That's good, isn't it?"
"It's good for Billy." The boys, once Nelson arrived, went down the elevator again, to try to repair the mini?bike in the basement. "In fact, that's mostly the reason; Ollie is worried about Billy. With me working and not home until dark, he hangs around with that bad crowd up toward the bridge. You know, it's not like when we were young, the temptations they're exposed to. It's not just cigarettes and a little feeling up. At thirteen now, they're ready to go."
Harry brushes froth from his lips and wishes she would come away from the window so he could see all of the sky. "I guess they figure they might be dead at eighteen."
"Janice says you like the war."
' "I don't like it; I defend it. I wasn't thinking of that, they have a lot of ways to die now we didn't have. Anyway, it's nice about you and Ollie, if it works out. A little sad, too."
"Why sad?"
"Sad for me. I mean, I guess I blew my chance, to -"
"To what?"
"To cash you in."
Bad phrase, too harsh, though it had been an apology. He has lived with Skeeter too long. But her blankness, the blankness of her silhouette144 as Peggy stands in her habitual145 pose against the windows, suggested it. A blank check. A woman is blank until you fuck her. Everything is blank until you fuck it. Us and Vietnam, fucking and being fucked, blood is wisdom. Must be some better way but it's not in nature. His silence is leaden with regret. She remains blank some seconds, says nothing. Then she moves into the space around him, turns on lamps, lifts a pillow into place, plumps it, stoops and straightens, turns, takes light upon her sides, is rounded into shape. A lumpy big woman but not a fat one, clumsy but not gross, sad with evening, with Ollie or not Ollie, with having a lengthening146 past and less and less future. Three classes behind his, Peggy Gring had gone to high school with Rabbit and had seen him when he was good, had sat in those hot bleachers screaming, when he was a hero, naked and swift and lean. She has seen him come to nothing. She plumps down in the chair beside his and says, "I've been cashed in a lot lately."
"You mean with Ollie?"
"Others. Guys I meet at work. Ollie minds. That may be why he wants back in."
"If Ollie minds, you must be telling him. So you must want him back in too."
She looks into the bottom of her glass; there is nothing there but ice. "And how about you and Janice?"
"Janice who? Let me get you another drink."
"Wow. You've become a gentleman."
"Slightly."
As he puts her gin?and?tonic147 into her hand, he says, "Tell me about those other guys."
"They're O.K. I'm not that proud of them. They're human. I'm human."
"You do it but don't fall in love?"
"Apparently148. Is that terrible?"
"No," he says. "I think it's nice."
"You think a lot of things are nice lately."
"Yeah. I'm not so uptight. Sistah Peggeh, I'se seen de light."
The boys come back upstairs. They complain the new headlight they bought doesn't fit. Peggy feeds them, a casserole of chicken legs and breasts, poor dismembered creatures simmering. Rabbit wonders how many animals have died to keep his life going, how many more will die. A barnyard full, a farmful of thumping149 hearts, seeing eyes, racing151 legs, all stuffed squawking into him as into a black sack. No avoiding it: life does want death. To be alive is to kill. Dinner inside them, they stuff themselves on television: Jackie Gleason, My Three Sons, Hogan's Heroes, Petticoat Junction152, Mannix. An orgy. Nelson is asleep on the floor, radioactive light beating on his closed lids and open mouth. Rabbit carries him into Billy's room, while Peggy tucks her own son in. "Mom, I'm not sleepy." "It's past bedtime." "It's Saturday night." "You have a big day tomorrow." "When is he going home?" He must think Harry has no ears. "When he wants to." "What are you going to do?" "Nothing that's any of your business." "Mom." "Shall I listen to your prayers?" "When he's not listening." " Then you say them to yourself tonight."
Harry and Peggy return to the living room and watch the week's news roundup. The weekend commentator153 is fairer?haired and less severe in expression than the weekday one. He says there has been some good news this week. American deaths in Vietnam were reported the lowest in three years, and one twenty?fourhour period saw no American battle deaths at all. The Soviet154 union made headlines this week, agreeing with the U.S. to ban atomic weapons from the world's ocean floors, agreeing with Red China to hold talks concerning their sometimes bloody155 border disputes, and launching Soyuz 6, a linked three?stage space spectacular bringing closer the day of permanent space stations. In Washington, Hubert Humphrey endorsed156 Richard Nixon's handling of the Vietnam war and Lieutenant157 General Lewis B. Hershey, crusty and controversial head for twenty?eight years of this nation's selective service system, was relieved of his post and promoted to four?star general. In Chicago, riots outside the courtroom and riotous158 behavior within continued to characterize the trial of the so?called Chicago Eight. In Belfast, Protestants and British troops clashed. In Prague, Czechoslovakia's revisionist government, in one of its sternest moves, banned citizens from foreign travel. And preparations were under way: for tomorrow's Columbus Day parades, despite threatened protests from Scandinavian groups maintaining that Leif Ericson and not Columbus was the discoverer of America, and for Wednesday's Moratorium159 Day, a nationwide outpouring of peaceful protest. "Crap," says Rabbit. Sports. Weather. Peggy rises awkwardly from her chair to turn it off. Rabbit rises, also stiff. "Great supper," he tells her. "I guess I'll get back to the ranch15."
The television off, they stand rimmed160 by borrowed light: the bathroom door down the hall left ajar for the boys, the apartment?house corridor a bright slit161 beneath the door leading out, the phosphorescence of Brewer through the windows. Peggy's body, transected and rimmed by those remote fires, does not quite fit together; her arm jerks up from darkness and brushes indifferently at her hair and seems to miss. She shrugs163, or shudders164, and shadows slip from her. "Wouldn't you like," she asks, in a voice not quite hers, originating in the dim charged space between them, and lighter165, breathier, "to cash me in?"
Yes, it turns out, yes he would, and they bump, and fumble166, and unzip, and she is gumdrops everywhere, yet stately as a statue, planetary in her breadth, a contour map of some snowy land where he has never been; not since Ruth has he had a woman this big. Naked, she makes him naked, even kneeling to unlace his shoes, and then kneeling to him in the pose of Jill to Skeeter, so he has glided167 across a gulf168, and stands where last night he stared. He gently unlinks her, lowers her to the floor, and tastes a salty swamp between her legs. Her thighs part easily, she grows wet readily, she is sadly unclumsy at this, she has indeed been to bed with many men. In the knowing way she handles his prick he feels their presences, feels himself competing, is put off, goes soft. She leaves off and comes up and presses the gumdrop of her tongue between his lips. Puddled on the floor, they keep knocking skulls and ankle bones on the furniture legs. The puppy, hearing their commotion169, thinks they want to play and thrusts his cold nose and scrabbling paws among their sensitive flesh; his fern?furry170 busy bustlingness tickles171 and hurts. This third animal among them re?excites Rabbit; observing this, Peggy leads him down her hall, the dark crease172 between her buttocks snapping tick?tock with her walk. Holding her rumpled173 dress in front of her like a pad, she pauses at the boys' door, listens, and nods. Her hair has gone loose. The puppy for a while whimpers at their door and claws the floor as if to dig there; then he is eclipsed by the inflammation of their senses and falls silent beneath the thunder of their blood. Harry is afraid with this unknown woman, of timing174 her wrong, but she tells him, "One sec." Him inside her, she does something imperceptible, relaxing and tensing the muscles of her vagina, and announces breathily "Now." She comes one beat ahead of him, a cool solid thump150 of a come that lets him hit home without fear of hurting her: a fuck innocent of madness. Then slides in that embarrassment175 of afterwards ? of returning discriminations, of the other re?emerging from the muddle176, of sorting out what was hers and what was yours. He hides his face in the hot cave at the side of her neck. "Thank you."
"Thank you yourself," Peggy Fosnacht says, and, what he doesn't especially like, grabs his bottom to give her one more deep thrust before he softens177. Both Jill and Janice too ladylike for that. Still, he is at home.
Until she says, "Would you mind rolling off? You're squeezing the breath out of me."
"Am I so heavy?"
"After a while."
"Actually, I better go."
"Why? It's only midnight."
"I'm worried about what they're doing back at the house."
"Nelson's here. The others, what do you care?"
"I don't know. I care."
"Well they don't care about you and you're in bed with someone who does."
He accuses her: "You're taking Ollie back."
"Have any better ideas? He's the father of my child."
"Well that's not my fault."
"No, nothing's your fault," and she tumbles around him, and they make solid sadly skillful love again, and they talk and he dozes178 a little, and the phone rings. It shrills180 right beside his ear.
A woman's arm, plump and elastic181 and warm, reaches across his face to pluck it silent. Peggy Gring's. She listens, and hands it to him with an expression he cannot read. There is a clock beside the telephone; its luminous182 hands say one?twenty. "Hey. Chuck? Better get your ass over here. It's bad. Bad."
"Skeeter?" His throat hurts, just speaking. Fucking Peggy has left him dry.
The voice at the other end hangs up.
Rabbit kicks out of the bedcovers and hunts in the dark for his clothes. He remembers. The living room. The boys' door opens as he runs down the hall naked. Nelson's astonished face takes in his father's nakedness. He asks, "Was it Mom?"
"Mom?"
"On the phone."
"Skeeter. Something's gone wrong at the house."
"Should I come?"
They are in the living room, Rabbit stooping to gather his clothes scattered183 over the floor, hopping184 to get into his underpants, his suit pants. The puppy, awake again, dances and nips at him.
"Better stay."
"What can it be, Dad?"
"No idea. Maybe the cops. Maybe Jill getting sicker."
"Why didn't he talk longer?"
"His voice sounded funny, I'm not sure it was our phone."
"I'm coming with you."
"I told you to stay here."
"I must, Dad."
Rabbit looks at him and agrees, "O.K. I guess you must."
Peggy in blue bathrobe is in the hall; more lights are on. Billy is up. His pajamas are stained yellow at the fly, he is pimply185 and tall. Peggy says, "Shall I get dressed?"
"No. You're great the way you are." Rabbit is having trouble with his tie: his shirt collar has a button in the back that has to be undone186 to get the tie under. He puts on his coat and stuffs the tie into his pocket. His skin is tingling188 with the start of sweat and his penis murmuringly aches. He has forgotten to do the laces of his shoes and as he kneels to do them his stomach jams into his throat.
"How will you get there?" Peggy asks.
"Run," Rabbit answers.
"Don't be funny, it's a mile and a half. I'll get dressed and drive you."
She must be told she is not his wife. "I don't want you to come. Whatever it is, I don't want you and Billy to get involved."
"Mo?om," Billy protests from the doorway189. But he is still in stained pajamas whereas Nelson is dressed, but for bare feet. His sneakers are in his hand.
Peggy yields. "I'll get you my car keys. It's the blue Fury, the fourth slot in the line against the wall. Nelson knows. No, Billy. You and I will stay here." Her voice is factual, secretarial.
Rabbit takes the keys, which come into his hand as cold as if they have been in the refrigerator. "Thanks a lot. Or have I said that before? Sorry about this. Great dinner, Peggy."
"Glad you liked it."
"We'll let you know what's what. It's probably nothing, the son of a bitch is probably just stoned out of his mind."
Nelson has put his socks and sneakers on. "Let's go, Dad. Thank you very much, Mrs. Fosnacht."
"You're both very welcome."
"Thank Mr. Fosnacht in case I can't go on the boat tomorrow."
Billy is still trying. "Mo?om, let me." No."
"Mom, you're a bitch."
Peggy slaps her son: pink leaps up on his cheek in stripes like fingers, and the child's face hardens beyond further controlling. "Mom, you're a whore. That's what the bridge kids say. You'll lay anybody."
Rabbit says, "You two take it easy," and turns; they flee, father and son, down the hall, down the steel stairwell, not waiting for an elevator, to a basement ofparked cars, a polychrome lake caught in a low illumined grotto190. Rabbit blinks to realize that even while he and Peggy were heating their little mutual191 darkness a cold fluorescent192 world surrounded them in hallways and down stairwells and amid unsleeping pillars upholding their vast building. The universe is unsleeping, neither ants nor stars sleep, to die will be to be forever wide awake. Nelson finds the blue car for him. Its dashlights glow green at ignition. Almost silently the engine comes to life, backs them out, sneaks them along past the stained grotto walls. In a corner by the brickwork of a stairwell the all?chrome mini?bike waits to be repaired. An asphalt exitway becomes a parking lot, becomes a street lined with narrow houses and great green signs bearing numbers, keystones, shields, the names of unattainable cities. They come onto Weiser; the traffic is thin, sinister193. The stoplights no longer regulate but merely wink194. Burger Bliss195 is closed, though its purple oven glows within, plus a sallow residue196 of ceiling tubes to discourage thieves and vandals. A police car nips by, bleating197. The Acme198 lot at this hour has no horizon. Are the few cars still parked on it abandoned? Or lovers? Or ghosts in a world so thick with cars their shadows like leaves settle everywhere? A whirling light, insulting in its brilliance199, materializes in Rabbit's rear?view mirror and as it swells200 acquires the overpowering grief of a siren. The red bulk of a fire engine plunges201 by, sucking the Fury toward the center of the street, where the trolley202?track bed used to be. Nelson cries, "Dad!"
"Dad what?"
"Nothing, I thought you lost control."
"Never. Not your Dad."
The movie marquee, unlit and stubby, is announcing, BACK BY REQST ? 2001. All these stores along Weiser have burglar lights on and a few, a new defense203, wear window grilles.
"Dad, there's a glow in the sky."
"Where?"
"Off to the right."
He says, "That can't be us. Penn Villas is more ahead."
But Emberly Avenue turns right more acutely than he had ever noticed, and the curving streets of Penn Villas do deliver them toward a dome204 of rose?colored air. People, black shapes, race on silent footsteps, and cars have run to a stop diagonally against the curbs205. Down where Emberly meets Vista Crescent, a policeman stands, rhythmically207 popping into brightness as the twirling fireengine lights pass over him. Harry parks where he can drive no further and runs down Vista, after Nelson. Fire hoses lie across the asphalt, some deflated208 like long canvas trouser legs and some fat as cobras, jetting hissingly from their joints209. The gutter210 gnashes with swirling211 black water and matted leaves; around the sewer drain, a whirlpool widens out from the clogged212 center. Two houses from their house, they encounter an odor akin49 to leaf?smoke but more acrid213 and bitter, holding paint and tar25 and chemicals; one house away, the density214 of people stops them. Nelson sinks into the crowd and vanishes. Rabbit shoulders after him, apologizing, "Excuse me, this is my house, pardon me, my house." He says this but does not yet believe it. His house is masked from him by heads, by searchlights and upward waterfalls, by rainbows and shouts, by something magisterial215 and singular about the event that makes it as hard to see as the sun. People, neighbors, part to let him through. He sees. The garage is gone; the charred216 studs still stand, but the roof has collapsed217 and the shingles218 smolder219 with spurts220 of blue?green flame amid the drenched221 wreckage222 on the cement floor. The handle of the power mower pokes223 up intact. The rooms nearest the garage, the kitchen and the bedroom above it, the bedroom that had been his and Janice's and then his and Jill's, flame against the torrents224 of water. Flame sinks back, then bursts out again, through roof or window, in tongues. The apple?green aluminum clapboards do not themselves burn; rather, they seem to shield the fire from the water. Abrupt225 gaps in the shifting weave of struggling elements let shreds226 show through of the upstairs wallpaper, of the kitchen shelves; then these gaps shut at a breath of wind. He scans the upstairs window for Jill's face, but glimpses only the stained ceiling. The roof above, half the roof, is a field of smoke, smoke bubbling up and coming off the shadow?line shingles in serried227 billows that look combed. Smoke pours out of Nelson's windows, but that half of the house is not yet aflame, and may be saved. Indeed, the house burns spitefully, spitting, stinkingly: the ersatz and synthetic228 materials grudge229 combustion230 its triumph. Once in boyhood Rabbit saw a barn burn in the valley east of Mt. Judge; it was a torch, an explosion of hay outstarring the sky with embers. Here there is no such display.
There is space around him. The spectators, the neighbors, in honor of his role, have backed off. Months ago Rabbit had seen that bright island of moviemakers and now he is at the center of this bright island and still feels peripheral231, removed, nostalgic, numb. He scans the firelit faces and does not see Showalter or Brumbach. He sees no one he knows.
The crowd stirs, ooh. He expects to see Jill at the window, ready to leap, her white dress translucent232 around her body. But the windows let only smoke escape, and the drama is on the ground. A policeman is struggling with a slight lithe233 figure; Harry thinks eagerly, Skeeter, but the struggle pivots234, and it is Nelson's white face. A fireman helps pin the boy's arms. They bring him away from the house, to his father. Seeing his father, Nelson clamps shut his eyes and draws his lips back in a snarl235 and struggles so hard to be free that the two men holding his arms seem to be wildly operating pump handles. "She's in there, Dad!"
The policeman, breathing hard, explains, "Boy tried to get into the house. Says there's a girl in there."
"I don't know, she must have gotten out. We just got here."
Nelson's eyes are frantic236; he screeches237 everything. "Did Skeeter say she was with him?"
"No." Harry can hardly get the words out. "He just said things were bad."
In listening, the fireman and policeman loosen their grip, and Nelson breaks away to run for the front door again. Heat must meet him, for he falters238 at the porchlet steps, and he is seized again, by men whose slickers make them seem beetles239. This time, brought back, Nelson screams up at Harry's face: "You fucking asshole, you've let her die. I'll kill you. I'll kill you." And, though it is his son, Harry crouches and gets his hands up ready to fight.
But the boy cannot burst the grip of the men; he tells them in a voice less shrill179, arguing for his release, "I know she's in there. Let me go, please. Please let me go. Just let me get her out, I know I can. I know I can. She'd be upstairs asleep. She'd be easy to lift. Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I swore at you. I didn't mean it. Tell them to let me. Tell them about Jill. Tell them to get her out."
Rabbit asks the firemen, "Wouldn't she have come to the window?"
The fireman, an old rodent241 of a man, with tufty eyebrows242 and long yellow teeth, ruminates243 as he talks. "Girl asleep in there, smoke might get to her before she properly woke up. People don't realize what a deadly poison smoke is. That's what does you in, the smoke not the fire." He asks Nelson, "O.K. to let go, sonny? Act your age now, we'll send men up the ladder."
One beetle240?backed fireman chops at the front door. The glass from the three panes244 shatters and tinkles245 on the flagstones. Another fireman emerges from the other side of the roof and with his ax picks a hole above the upstairs hall, about where Nelson's door would be. Something invisible sends him staggering back. A violet flame shoots up. A cannonade of water chases him back over the roof ridge95.
"They're not doing it right, Dad," Nelson moans. "They're not getting her. I know where she is and they're not getting her, Dad!" And the boy's voice dies in a shuddering246 wail247. When Rabbit reaches toward him he pulls away and hides his face. The back of his head feels soft beneath the hair: an overripe fruit.
Rabbit reassures248 him, "Skeeter would've gotten her out."
"He wouldn't of, Dad! He wouldn't care. All he cared about was himself. And all you cared about was him. Nobody cared about Jill." He writhes249 in his father's fumbling250 grasp.
A policeman is beside them. "You Angstrom?" He is one ofthe new style of cops, collegiate?looking: pointed251 nose, smooth chin, sideburns cut to a depth Rabbit still thinks of as antisocial.
"Yes."
The cop takes out a notebook. "How many persons were in residence here?"
"Four. Me and the kid -"
"Name?
"Nelson."
"Any middle initial?"
"F for Frederick." The policeman writes slowly and speaks so softly he is hard to hear against the background of crowd munnur and fire crackle and water being hurled252. Harry has to ask, "What?"
The cop repeats, "Name of mother?"
"Janice. She's not living here. She lives over in Brewer."
"Address?"
Harry remembers Stavros's address, but gives instead, "Care of Frederick Springer, 89 Joseph Street, Mt. Judge."
"And who is the girl the boy mentioned?"
"Jill Pendleton, of Stonington, Connecticut. Don't know the street address."
Age?"
"Eighteen or nineteen."
"Family relationship?"
"None."
It takes the cop a very long time to write this one word. Something is happening to a corner of the roof the crowd noise is rising, and a ladder is being lowered through an intersection253 of searchlights.
Rabbit prompts: "The fourth person was a Negro we called Skeeter. S?k?double?e?t?e?r."
"Black male?"
"Yes."
"Last name?"
"I don't know. Could be Farnsworth."
"Spell please."
Rabbit spells it and offers to explain. "He was just here tem-porarily."
The cop glances up at the burning ranch house and then over at the owner. "What were you doing here, running a commune?"
"No, Jesus; listen. I'm not for any of that. I voted for Hubert Humphrey."
The cop studies the house. "Any chance this black is in there now?"
"Don't think so. He was the one that called me, it sounded as if from a phone booth."
"Did he say he'd set the fire?"
"No, he didn't even say there was a fire, he just said things were bad. He said the word `bad' twice."
"Things were bad," the cop writes, and closes his notepad. "We'll want some further interrogation later." Reflected firelight gleams peach?color off of the badge in his cap. The corner of the house above the bedroom is collapsing254; the television aerial, that they twice adjusted and extended to cut down ghosts from their neighbors' sets, tilts255 in the leap of flame and slowly swings down-ward like a skeletal tree, still clinging by some wires or brackets to its roots. Water vaults256 into what had been the bedroom. A lavish257 cumulus of yellow smoke pours out, golden?gray, rich as icing squeezed from the sugary hands of a pastry258 cook.
The cop casually259 allows, "Anybody in there was cooked a half-hour ago."
Two steps away, Nelson is bent over to let vomit260 spill from his mouth. Rabbit steps to him and the boy allows himself to be touched. He holds him by the shoulders; it feels like trying to hold out of water a heaving fish that wants to go back under, that needs to dive back under or die. His father brings back his hair from his cheeks so it will not be soiled by vomit; with his fist he makes a feminine knot of hair at the back of the boy's hot soft skull. "Nellie, I'm sure she got out. She's far away. She's safe and far away."
The boy shakes his head No and retches again; Harry holds him for minutes, one hand clutching his hair, the other around his chest. He is holding him up from sinking into the earth. If Harry were to let go, he would sink too. He feels precariously261 heavier on his bones; the earth pulls like Jupiter. Policemen, spectators, watch him struggle with Nelson but do not intervene. Finally a cop, not the interrogating262 one, does approach and in a calm Dutch voice asks, "Shall we have a car take the boy somewhere? Does he have grandparents in the county?"
"Four of them," Rabbit says. "Maybe he should go to his mother."
"No! "Nelson says, and breaks loose to face them. "You're not getting me to go until we know where Jill is." His face shines with tears but is sane263: he waits out the next hour standing264 by his father's side.
The flames are slowly smothered265, the living?room side of the house is saved. The interior of the kitchen side seems a garden where different tints266 of smoke sprout267; formica, vinyl, nylon, linoleum each burn differently, yield their curdling268 compounds back to earth and air. Firemen wet down the wreckage and search behind the gutted269 walls. Now the upstairs windows stare with searchlights, now the lower. A skull full of fireflies. Yet still the ?crowd waits, held by a pack sense of smell; death is in heat. Intermittently270 there have been staticky calls over the police radios and one of them has fetched an ambulance; it arrives with a tentative sigh of its siren. Scarlet271 lights do an offbeat272 dance on its roof. A strange container, a green rubber bag or sheet, is taken into the house, and brought back by three grim men in slickers. The ambulance receives the shapeless package, is shut with that punky sound only the most expensive automobile273 doors make, and again, the tentative sigh of a siren just touched ?pulls away. The crowd thins after it. The night overflows274 with the noise of car motors igniting and revving275 up.
Nelson says, "Dad."
"Yeah."
"That was her, wasn't it?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"It was somebody."
"I guess."
Nelson rubs his eyes; the gesture leaves swipes of ash, Indian markings. The child seems harshly ancient.
"I need to go to bed," he says.
"Want to go back to the Fosnachts?"
"No." As if in apology he explains, "I hate Billy." Further qualifying, he adds, "Unless you do." Unless you want to go back and fuck Mrs. Fosnacht again.
Rabbit asks him, "Want to see your mother?"
"I can't, Dad. She's in the Poconos."
"She should be back by now."
"I don't want to see her now. Take me to Jackson Road."
There is in Rabbit an engine murmuring Undo187, undo, which wants to take them back to this afternoon, beginning with the moment they left the house, and not do what they did, not leave, and have it all unhappen, and Jill and Skeeter still there, in the house still there. Beneath the noise of this engine the inner admission that it did happen is muffled276; he sees Nelson through a gauze of shock and dares ask, "Blame me, huh?"
"Sort of."
"You don't think it was just bad luck?" And though the boy hardly bothers to shrug162 Harry understands his answer: luck and God are both up there and he has not been raised to believe in anything higher than his father's head. Blame stops for him in the human world, it has nowhere else to go.
The firemen of one truck are coiling their hoses. A policeman', the one who asked after Nelson, comes over. "Angstrom? The chief wants to talk to you where the boy can't hear."
"Dad, ask him if that was Jill."
The cop is tired, stolid277, plump, the same physical type as ? what was his name? ? Showalter. Kindly278 patient Brewerites. He lets out the information, "It was a cadaver279."
"Black or white?" Rabbit asks.
"No telling."
Nelson asks, "Male or female?"
"Female, sonny."
Nelson begins to cry again, to gag as if food is caught in his throat, and Rabbit asks the policeman if his offer is still good, if a cruiser might take the boy to his grandparents' house in Mt. Judge. The boy is led away. He does not resist; Rabbit thought he might, might insist on staying with his father to the end. But the boy, his hair hanging limp and his tears flowing unchecked, seems relieved to be at last in the arms of order, of laws and limits. He doesn't even wave from the window of the silver?blue West Brewer cruiser as it U?turns in Vista Crescent and heads away from the tangle50 of hoses and puddles280 and red reflections. The air tastes sulphuric. Rabbit notices that the little maple was scorched281 on the side toward the house; its twigs282 smolder like cigarettes.
As the firemen wind up their apparatus283, he and the police chief sit in the front of an unmarked car. Harry's knees are crowded by the radio apparatus on the passenger's side. The chief is a short man but doesn't look so short sitting down, with his barrel chest crossed by a black strap284 and his white hair crew?cut close to his scalp and his nose which was once broken sideways and has accumulated broken veins in the years since. He says, "We have a death now. That makes it a horse of another color."
"Any theories how the fire started?"
"I'll ask the questions. But yes. It was set. In the garage. I notice a power mower in there. Can of gas to go with it?"
"Yeah. We. filled the can just this afternoon."
"Tell me where you were this evening."
He tells him. The chief talks on his car radio to the West Brewer headquarters. In less than five minutes they call back. But in the total, unapologetic silence the chief keeps during these minutes, a great lump grows in Rabbit, love of the law. The radio sizzles its words like bacon frying: "Mrs. Fosnacht confirms suspect's story. Also a minor boy in dwelling285 as additional witness."
"Check," the chief says, and clicks off.
"Why would I burn my own house down?" Rabbit asks.
"Most common arsonist287 is owner," the chief says. He studies Rabbit thoughtfully; his eyes are almost round, as if somebody took a stitch at the comer of each lid. "Maybe the girl was pregnant by you."
"She was on the Pill."
"Tell me about her."
He tries, though it is hard to make it seem as natural as it felt. Why did he permit Skeeter to move in on him? Well, the question was more, Why not? He tries, "Well, when my wife walked out on me, I kind of lost my bearings. It didn't seem to matter, and anyway he would have taken Jill with him, if I'd kicked him out. I got so I didn't mind him."
"Did he terrorize you?"
He tries to make these answers right. Out of respect for the law. "No. He educated us." Harry begins to get mad. "Some law I don't know about against having people live with you?"
"Law against harboring," the chief tells him, neglecting to write on his pad. "Brewer police report a Hubert Johnson out on default on a possession charge."
Rabbit's silence is not what he wants. He makes it clearer what he wants. "You in ignorance over the existence of this indictment288 and defiance289 of court?" He makes it even clearer. "Shall I accept your silence as a profession of ignorance?"
"Yes." It is the only opening. "Yes, I knew nothing about Skeeter, not even his last name."
"His present whereabouts, any ideas?"
"No idea. His call came through from it sounded like a phone booth but I couldn't swear to it."
The cop puts his broad hand over the notebook as if across the listening mouth of a telephone receiver. "Off the record. We've been watching this place. He was a little fish, a punk. We hoped he would lead us to something bigger."
"What bigger? Dope?"
"Civil disturbance290. The blacks in Brewer are in touch with Philly, Camden, Newark. We know they have guns. We don't want another York here, now do we?" Again, Rabbit's silence is not what he wants. He repeats, "Now do we?"
"No, of course not. I was just thinking. He talked as if he was beyond revolution; he was kind of religious?crazy, not gun
"Any idea why he set this fire?"
"I don't think he did. It isn't his style."
The pencil is back on the notebook. "Never mind about style," the chief says. "I want facts."
"I don't have any more facts than I've told you. Some people in the neighborhood were upset because Skeeter was living with us, two men stopped me on the street yesterday and complained about it, I can give you their names if you want."
The pencil hovers291. "They complained. Any specific threats of arson286?"
&. Wiseasses get fragged. You better fucking barricade292 the whole place. "Nothing that specific."
The chief makes a notation293, it looks like n.c., and turns the notebook page. "The black have sexual relations with the girl?"
"Look, I was off working all day. I'd come back and we'd cook supper and help the kid with his homework and sit around and talk. It was like having two more kids in the house, I don't know what they did every minute. Are you going to arrest me, or what?"
A fatherly type himself, the chief takes a smiling long time answering. Rabbit sees that his nose wasn't broken by accident, somewhere in the alleys294 of time he had asked for it. His snow?soft hair is cut evenly as a powderpuff, with a pink dent above the ears where the police cap bites. His smile broadens enough to crease his cheek. "Strictly295 speaking," he says, "this isn't my beat. I'm acting296 on behalf of my esteemed297 colleague the sheriff of Furnace Township, who rolled over and went back to sleep. Offhand298 I'd say we're doing a good enough business in the jails without putting solid citizens like you in there. We'll have some more questions later." He flips300 the notebook shut and flips the radio on to put out a call, "All cars, Brewer police copy, be on the lookout301, Negro, male, height approx five?six, weight approx one?twenty?five, medium dark?skinned, hair Afro, name Skeeter, that is Sally, Katherine, double Easter -" He does not turn his head when Rabbit opens the car door and walks away.
So again in his life the net of law has slipped from him. He knows he is criminal, yet is never caught. Sickness sinks through his body like soot118. The firemen wet down the smoking wreckage, the clot70 of equipment along Vista Crescent breaks up and flows away. The house is left encircled in its disgrace with yellow flashers on trestles warning people off. Rabbit walks around the lawn, so lately a full stage, sodden302 and pitted by footprints, and surveys the damage.
The burning was worse on the back side: the fixtures303 of the bedroom bathroom dangle304 in space from stems of contorted pipe. The wall that took the bed headboard is gone. Patches of nightblue sky show through the roof. He looks in the downstairs windows and sees, by flashing yellow light, as into a hellish fun house, the sofa and the two chairs, salted with fallen plaster, facing each other across the cobbler's bench. The driftwood lamp is still upright. On the shelves giving into the breakfast nook, Skeeter's books squat, soaked and matted. Where the kitchen was, Harry can see out through the garage to an N of charred 2 by 4s. The sky wants to brighten. Birds ? birds in Penn Villas, where? there are no trees old enough to hold them ? flicker305 into song. It is cold now, colder than in the heart of the night, when the fire was alive. The sky pales in the east, toward Brewer. Mt. Judge develops an outline in the emulsion of pre?dawn gray. A cloud of birds migrating crosses the suburb southward. The soot is settling on Harry's bones. His eyelids feel like husks. In his weariness he hallucinates; as in the seconds before we sleep, similes306 seem living organisms. The freshening sky above Mt. Judge is Becky, the child that died, and the sullen sky to the west, the color of a storm sky but flawed by stars, is Nelson, the child that lives. And he, he is the man in the middle.
He walks up to his battered307 front door, brushes away the glass shards308, and sits down on the flagstone porchlet. It is warm, like a hearth. Though none of his neighbors came forward to speak to him, to sparkle on the bright screen of his disaster, the neighborhood presents itself to his gaze unapologetically, naked in the gathering309 light, the pastel roof shingles moist in patches echoing the pattern of rafters, the back?yard bathing pools and swing sets whitened by dew along with the grass. A half?moon rests cockeyed in the blanched310 sky like a toy forgotten on a floor. An old man in a noisy green raincoat, a geezer left behind as a watchman, walks over and speaks to him. "This your home, huh?"
"This is it."
"Got some other place to go?"
"I suppose."
"Body a loved one?"
"Not exactly."
"That's good news. Cheer up, young fella. Insurance'll cover most of it."
"Do I have insurance?"
"Had a mortgage?"
Rabbit nods, remembering the little slippery bankbook, imagining it burned.
"Then you had insurance. Damn the banks all you will, they look after their own, you'll never catch them damn Jews short."
This man's presence begins to seem strange. It has been months since anything seemed as strange as this man's presence. Rabbit asks him, "How long you staying here?"
"I'm on duty till eight."
"Why? "
"Fire procedure. Prevent looting." The two of them look wonderingly at the dormant311 houses and cold lawns of Penn Villas. As they look, a distant alarm rings and an upstairs light comes on, sallow, dutiful. Still, looting these days is everywhere. The geezer asks him, "Anything precious in there, you might want to take along?" Rabbit doesn't move. "You better go get some sleep, young fella."
"What about you?" Rabbit asks.
"Fella my age doesn't need much. Sleep long enough soon enough. Anyway, I like the peacefulness of these hours, have ever since a boy. Always up, my dad, he was a great boozer and a late sleeper312, used to wallop the bejesus out of me if I made a stir mornings. Got in the habit of sneaking313 out to the birds. Anyway, double?hour credit, time outdoors on this shift. Don't always put it in, go over a certain amount, won't get any social security. Kill you with kindness, that's the new technique."
Rabbit stands up, aching; pain moves upward from his shins through his groin and belly to his chest and out. A demon leaving. Smoke, mist rise. He turns to his front door; swollen by water, axed, it resists being opened. The old man tells him, "It's my responsibility to keep any and all persons out of this structure. Any damage you do yourself, you're the party responsible." .
"You just told me to take out anything precious."
"You're responsible, that's all I'm saying. I'm turning my back. Fall through the floor, electrocute yourself, don't call for help. Far as I'm concerned, you're not there. See no evil is the way I do it."
"That's the way I do it too." Under pressure the door pops open. Splintered glass on the other side scrapes white arcs into the hall floor finish. Rabbit begins to cry from smoke and the smell. The house is warm, and talks to itself, a swarm314 of small rustles315 and snaps arises from the section on his left; settling noises drip from the charred joists and bubble up from the drenched dark rubble316 where the floor had been. The bed's metal frame has fallen into the kitchen. On his right, the living room is murky317 but undamaged. The silver threads of the Lustrex chair gleam through an acid mist of fumes318; the television set's green blank waits to be turned on. He thinks of taking it, it is the one resaleable item here, but no, it is too heavy to lug136, he might drop himself through the floor, and there are millions like it. Janice once said we should drop television sets into the jungle instead of bombs, it would do as much good. He thought at the time the idea was too clever for her; even then Stavros was speaking through her.
She always loved that dumb bench. He remembers her kneeling beside it early in their marriage, rubbing it with linseed oil, short keen strokes, a few inches at a time, it made him feel horny watching. He takes the bench under his arm and, discovering it to be so light, pulls the driftwood lamp loose from its socket319 and takes that too. The rest the looters and insurance adjusters can have. You never get the smell of smoke out. Like the smell of failure in a life. He remembers the storm windows, Windexing their four sides, and it seems a fable320 that his life was ever centered on such details. His house slips from him. He is free. Orange light in long stripes, from sun on the side of him opposite from the side the sun was on when he and Nelson walked here a long night ago, stretches between the low strange houses as he walks down Vista Crescent with the table and the lamp tugging321 under his arms. Peggy's Fury is the only car still parked along the curb206: a teal?blue tailfinned boat the ebb322 has stranded323. He opens the door, pushes the seat forward to put the bench in the back, and finds someone there. A Negro. Asleep. "What the hell," Rabbit says.
Skeeter awakes blind and gropes for his glasses on the rubber floor. "Chuck baby," he says, looking up with twin circles of glass. His Afro is flattened324 on one side. Bad fruit. "All by yourself, right?"
"Yeah." The little car holds a concentration of that smell which in the mornings would spice the living room, give it animal substance, sleep's sweetness made strong.
"How long's it been light?"
"Just started. It's around six. How long've you been here?"
"Since I saw you and Babychuck pull in. I called you from a booth up on Weiser and then watched to see if you'd go by. The car wasn't you but the head was, right, so I snuck along through the back yards and got in after you parked. The old briar patch theory, right? Shit if I didn't fall asleep. Hey get in man, you're lettin' in the air."
Rabbit gets in and sits in the driver's seat, listening without turning his head, trying to talk without moving his mouth. Penn Villas is coming to life; a car just passed. "You ought to know," he says, "they're looking for you. They think you set it."
"Count on the fuzz to fuck up. Why would I go burn my own pad?"
"To destroy evidence. Maybe Jill ? what do you call it? O.D.'d."
"Not on the scag she was getting from me, that stuff was so cut sugar water has more flash. Look, Chuck, that up at your house was honky action. Will you believe the truth, or shall I save my breath for the pigpen?"
"Let's hear it."
Skeeter's voice, unattached to his face, is deeper than Harry remembers, with a hypnotic rasping lilt that reminds him of childhood radio. "Jill sacked out early and I made do with the sofa, right? Since getting back on the stuff she wasn't putting out any of her own, and anyway I was pretty spaced and beat, we went twice around the county unloading that bullshit car. Right? So I wake up. There was this rattling325 around. I placed it coming from the kitchen, right? I was thinkin' it was Jill coming to bug1 me to shoot her up again, instead there was this whoosh326 and soft woomp, reminded me of an APM hitting in the bush up the road, only it wasn't up any road, I say to myself The war is come home. Next thing there's this slam of a door, garage door from the rumble327 of it, and I flip299 to the window and see these two honky cats makin' tail across the lawn, across the street, into between those houses there, and disappear, right? They had no car I could see. Next thing, I smell smoke."
"How do you know these were white men?"
"Shit, you know how honkies run, like with sticks up their ass, right?"
"Could you identify them if you saw them again?"
"I ain't identifying Moses around here. My skin is fried in this county, right?"
"Yeah," Rabbit says. "Something else you should know. Jill is dead."
The silence from the back seat is not long. "Poor bitch, doubt if she knows the difference."
"Why didn't you get her out?"
"Hell, man, there was heat, right? I thought lynching time had come, I didn't know there wasn't twelve hundred crackers328 out there, I was in no shape to take care of some whitey woman, let Whitey take care of his own."
"But nobody stopped you."
"Basic training, right? I eluded329 as they say my pursuers."
"They didn't want to hurt you. It was me, they were trying to tell me something. People around here don't lynch, don't be crazy."
"Crazy, you've been watching the wrong TV channel. How about those cats in Detroit?"
"How about those dead cops in California? How about all this Off the Pigs crap you brothers have been pushing? I should take you in. The Brewer cops would love to see you, they love to re?educate crazy coons."
Two more cars swish by; from the height of a milk truck the driver looks down curiously330. "Let's drive," Skeeter says.
"What's in it for me?"
"Nothing much, right?"
The car starts at a touch. The motor is more silent than their tires swishing in the puddles along Vista Crescent, past the apple?green ruin and the man in the green raincoat dozing331 on the doorstep. Rabbit heads out the curved streets to where they end, to where they become truck tracks between muddy house foundations. He finds a lost country lane. Tall rows of poplars, a neglected potholed surface. Skeeter sits up. Rabbit waits for the touch of metal on the back of his neck. A gun, a knife, a needle: they always have something. Poison darts332. But there is nothing, nothing but the fluctuating warmth of Skeeter's breathing on the back of his neck. "How could you let her die?" he asks.
"Man, you want to talk guilt96, we got to go back hundreds of years."
"I wasn't there then. But you were there last night."
"I was severely333 disadvantaged."
Harry's head is light with lack of sleep; he knows he shouldn't be making decisions. "Tell you what. I'll drive you ten miles south and you take it from there."
"That's cutting it fine, man, but let's say sold. One embarrassment remains. We brothers call it bread."
"You just got six hundred for selling her car."
"My wallet back next to that sofa, every mothering thing, right?"
"How about that black suitcase in the closet?"
"Say. You been snooping, or what?"
"I have maybe thirty dollars," Rabbit says. "You can have that. I'll keep this ride from the cops but then that's quits. Like you said, you've had it in this county."
"I shall return," Skeeter promises, "only in glory."
"When you do, leave me out of it."
Miles pass. A hill, a cluster of sandstone houses, a cement factory, a billboard334 pointing to a natural cave, another with a huge cutout of a bearded Amishman. Skeeter in yet another of his voices, the one that sounds most like a white man and therefore in Rabbit's ears most human, asks, "How'd Babychuck take it, Jill's being wasted?"
"About like you'd expect."
"Broken up, right?"
"Broken up."
"Tell him, there's a ton of cunt in the world."
"I'll let him figure that out himself."
They come to a corner where two narrow roads meet in sunlight. On the far side of a tan cut cornfield a whitewashed335 stone house sends up smoke. A wooden arrow at the intersection says Galilee 2. Otherwise it could be nowhere. A jet trail smears336 in the sky. Pennsylvania spreads south silently, through green and brown. A dry stone conduit underlies337 the road here; a roadside marker is a metal keystone rusted338 blank. Rabbit empties his wallet into Skeeter's pink palm and chokes off the impulse to apologize for its not being more. He wonders now what would be proper. A Judas kiss? They have scarcely touched since the night they wrestled339 and Harry won. He holds out his hand to shake farewell. Skeeter studies it as if like Babe he will tell a fortune, takes it into both his slick narrow hands, tips it so the meaty pink creases340 are skyward, contemplates341, and solemnly spits into the center. His saliva342 being as warm as skin, Harry at first only knows it has happened by seeing: moisture full of bubbles like tiny suns. He chooses to take the gesture as a blessing343, and wipes his palm dry on his pants. Skeeter tells him, "Never did figure your angle."
"Probably wasn't one," is the answer.
"Just waiting for the word, right?" Skeeter cackles. When he laughs there is that complexity344 about his upper lip white men don't have, a welt in the center, a genial345 seam reminding Rabbit of the stitch of flesh that holds the head of your cock to the shaft346. As Harry backs Peggy's Fury around in the strait intersection, the young black waits by a bank of brown weed stalks. In the rearview mirror, Skeeter looks oddly right, blends right in, even with the glasses and goatee, hanging empty?handed between fields of stubble where crows settle and shift, gleaning347.
COL. EDWIN E. ALDRIN, JR.: Now you're clear. Over toward me. Straight down, to your left a little bit. Plenty of room. You're lined up nicely. Toward me a little bit. Down. O.K. Now you're clear. You're catching348 the first hinge. The what hinge? All right, move. Roll to the left. O.K., now you're clear. You're lined up on the platform. Put your left foot to the right a little bit. O.K., that's good. More left. Good.
NEIL ARMSTRONG: O.K., Houston, I'm on the porch.
点击收听单词发音
1 bug | |
n.虫子;故障;窃听器;vt.纠缠;装窃听器 | |
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2 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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3 skulls | |
颅骨( skull的名词复数 ); 脑袋; 脑子; 脑瓜 | |
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4 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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5 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
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6 uptight | |
adj.焦虑不安的,紧张的 | |
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7 nagging | |
adj.唠叨的,挑剔的;使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评(某人)( nag的现在分词 );不断地烦扰或伤害(某人);无休止地抱怨;不断指责 | |
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8 cone | |
n.圆锥体,圆锥形东西,球果 | |
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9 facet | |
n.(问题等的)一个方面;(多面体的)面 | |
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10 goads | |
n.赶牲口的尖棒( goad的名词复数 )v.刺激( goad的第三人称单数 );激励;(用尖棒)驱赶;驱使(或怂恿、刺激)某人 | |
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11 ass | |
n.驴;傻瓜,蠢笨的人 | |
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12 benighted | |
adj.蒙昧的 | |
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13 rustling | |
n. 瑟瑟声,沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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14 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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15 ranch | |
n.大牧场,大农场 | |
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16 scuttling | |
n.船底穿孔,打开通海阀(沉船用)v.使船沉没( scuttle的现在分词 );快跑,急走 | |
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17 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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18 glide | |
n./v.溜,滑行;(时间)消逝 | |
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19 blur | |
n.模糊不清的事物;vt.使模糊,使看不清楚 | |
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20 gilds | |
把…镀金( gild的第三人称单数 ); 给…上金色; 作多余的修饰(反而破坏原已完美的东西); 画蛇添足 | |
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21 revolves | |
v.(使)旋转( revolve的第三人称单数 );细想 | |
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22 sift | |
v.筛撒,纷落,详察 | |
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23 dent | |
n.凹痕,凹坑;初步进展 | |
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24 hip | |
n.臀部,髋;屋脊 | |
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25 tar | |
n.柏油,焦油;vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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26 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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27 sifted | |
v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 );筛滤;细查;详审 | |
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28 hoops | |
n.箍( hoop的名词复数 );(篮球)篮圈;(旧时儿童玩的)大环子;(两端埋在地里的)小铁弓 | |
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29 juggler | |
n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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30 demon | |
n.魔鬼,恶魔 | |
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31 shun | |
vt.避开,回避,避免 | |
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32 kit | |
n.用具包,成套工具;随身携带物 | |
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33 dwindles | |
v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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34 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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35 crouches | |
n.蹲着的姿势( crouch的名词复数 )v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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36 crouch | |
v.蹲伏,蜷缩,低头弯腰;n.蹲伏 | |
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37 petals | |
n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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38 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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39 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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40 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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41 propping | |
支撑 | |
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42 baton | |
n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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43 bleached | |
漂白的,晒白的,颜色变浅的 | |
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44 metallic | |
adj.金属的;金属制的;含金属的;产金属的;像金属的 | |
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45 texture | |
n.(织物)质地;(材料)构造;结构;肌理 | |
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46 opaquely | |
adv.不透明地,无光泽地 | |
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47 numb | |
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木 | |
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48 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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49 akin | |
adj.同族的,类似的 | |
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50 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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51 vista | |
n.远景,深景,展望,回想 | |
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52 maple | |
n.槭树,枫树,槭木 | |
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53 vapor | |
n.蒸汽,雾气 | |
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54 prick | |
v.刺伤,刺痛,刺孔;n.刺伤,刺痛 | |
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55 squats | |
n.蹲坐,蹲姿( squat的名词复数 );被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 );非法擅自占用(土地或房屋);为获得其所有权;而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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56 squat | |
v.蹲坐,蹲下;n.蹲下;adj.矮胖的,粗矮的 | |
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57 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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58 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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59 detectable | |
adj.可发觉的;可查明的 | |
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60 irises | |
n.虹( iris的名词复数 );虹膜;虹彩;鸢尾(花) | |
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61 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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62 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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63 linoleum | |
n.油布,油毯 | |
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64 offset | |
n.分支,补偿;v.抵消,补偿 | |
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65 versus | |
prep.以…为对手,对;与…相比之下 | |
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66 greasy | |
adj. 多脂的,油脂的 | |
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67 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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68 slants | |
(使)倾斜,歪斜( slant的第三人称单数 ); 有倾向性地编写或报道 | |
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69 tablecloth | |
n.桌布,台布 | |
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70 clot | |
n.凝块;v.使凝成块 | |
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71 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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72 glistens | |
v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的第三人称单数 ) | |
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73 freckled | |
adj.雀斑;斑点;晒斑;(使)生雀斑v.雀斑,斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74 pajamas | |
n.睡衣裤 | |
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75 mow | |
v.割(草、麦等),扫射,皱眉;n.草堆,谷物堆 | |
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76 mowing | |
n.割草,一次收割量,牧草地v.刈,割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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77 parched | |
adj.焦干的;极渴的;v.(使)焦干 | |
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78 sewer | |
n.排水沟,下水道 | |
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79 seeping | |
v.(液体)渗( seep的现在分词 );渗透;渗出;漏出 | |
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80 villas | |
别墅,公馆( villa的名词复数 ); (城郊)住宅 | |
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81 stink | |
vi.发出恶臭;糟透,招人厌恶;n.恶臭 | |
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82 mower | |
n.割草机 | |
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83 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
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84 perversely | |
adv. 倔强地 | |
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85 stationery | |
n.文具;(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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86 brewer | |
n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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87 gee | |
n.马;int.向右!前进!,惊讶时所发声音;v.向右转 | |
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88 lurch | |
n.突然向前或旁边倒;v.蹒跚而行 | |
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89 rattle | |
v.飞奔,碰响;激怒;n.碰撞声;拨浪鼓 | |
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90 alligator | |
n.短吻鳄(一种鳄鱼) | |
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91 maroon | |
v.困住,使(人)处于孤独无助之境;n.逃亡黑奴;孤立的人;酱紫色,褐红色;adj.酱紫色的,褐红色的 | |
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92 pros | |
abbr.prosecuting 起诉;prosecutor 起诉人;professionals 自由职业者;proscenium (舞台)前部n.赞成的意见( pro的名词复数 );赞成的理由;抵偿物;交换物 | |
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93 brittle | |
adj.易碎的;脆弱的;冷淡的;(声音)尖利的 | |
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94 lettuce | |
n.莴苣;生菜 | |
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95 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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96 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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97 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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98 jutting | |
v.(使)突出( jut的现在分词 );伸出;(从…)突出;高出 | |
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99 terrain | |
n.地面,地形,地图 | |
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100 recede | |
vi.退(去),渐渐远去;向后倾斜,缩进 | |
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101 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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102 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
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103 psychic | |
n.对超自然力敏感的人;adj.有超自然力的 | |
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104 fathom | |
v.领悟,彻底了解 | |
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105 tourniquet | |
n.止血器,绞压器,驱血带 | |
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106 divulge | |
v.泄漏(秘密等);宣布,公布 | |
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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 paperback | |
n.平装本,简装本 | |
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109 earring | |
n.耳环,耳饰 | |
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110 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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111 hairpins | |
n.发夹( hairpin的名词复数 ) | |
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112 ointment | |
n.药膏,油膏,软膏 | |
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113 mink | |
n.貂,貂皮 | |
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114 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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115 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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116 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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117 infinity | |
n.无限,无穷,大量 | |
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118 soot | |
n.煤烟,烟尘;vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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119 soothes | |
v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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120 aluminum | |
n.(aluminium)铝 | |
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121 squeaks | |
n.短促的尖叫声,吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 );吱吱叫;告密;充当告密者 | |
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122 registration | |
n.登记,注册,挂号 | |
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123 hostility | |
n.敌对,敌意;抵制[pl.]交战,战争 | |
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124 bugging | |
[法] 窃听 | |
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125 sloppiness | |
n.草率,粗心 | |
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126 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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127 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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128 cedar | |
n.雪松,香柏(木) | |
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129 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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130 puffs | |
n.吸( puff的名词复数 );(烟斗或香烟的)一吸;一缕(烟、蒸汽等);(呼吸或风的)呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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131 bruised | |
[医]青肿的,瘀紫的 | |
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132 festively | |
adv.节日地,适合于节日地 | |
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133 cozy | |
adj.亲如手足的,密切的,暖和舒服的 | |
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134 elongated | |
v.延长,加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135 lugging | |
超载运转能力 | |
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136 lug | |
n.柄,突出部,螺帽;(英)耳朵;(俚)笨蛋;vt.拖,拉,用力拖动 | |
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137 maples | |
槭树,枫树( maple的名词复数 ); 槭木 | |
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138 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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139 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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140 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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141 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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142 glossy | |
adj.平滑的;有光泽的 | |
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143 thighs | |
n.股,大腿( thigh的名词复数 );食用的鸡(等的)腿 | |
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144 silhouette | |
n.黑色半身侧面影,影子,轮廓;v.描绘成侧面影,照出影子来,仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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145 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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146 lengthening | |
(时间或空间)延长,伸长( lengthen的现在分词 ); 加长 | |
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147 tonic | |
n./adj.滋补品,补药,强身的,健体的 | |
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148 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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149 thumping | |
adj.重大的,巨大的;重击的;尺码大的;极好的adv.极端地;非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词);狠打;怦怦地跳;全力支持 | |
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150 thump | |
v.重击,砰然地响;n.重击,重击声 | |
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151 racing | |
n.竞赛,赛马;adj.竞赛用的,赛马用的 | |
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152 junction | |
n.连接,接合;交叉点,接合处,枢纽站 | |
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153 commentator | |
n.注释者,解说者;实况广播评论员 | |
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154 Soviet | |
adj.苏联的,苏维埃的;n.苏维埃 | |
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155 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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156 endorsed | |
vt.& vi.endorse的过去式或过去分词形式v.赞同( endorse的过去式和过去分词 );在(尤指支票的)背面签字;在(文件的)背面写评论;在广告上说本人使用并赞同某产品 | |
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157 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
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158 riotous | |
adj.骚乱的;狂欢的 | |
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159 moratorium | |
n.(行动、活动的)暂停(期),延期偿付 | |
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160 rimmed | |
adj.有边缘的,有框的v.沿…边缘滚动;给…镶边 | |
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161 slit | |
n.狭长的切口;裂缝;vt.切开,撕裂 | |
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162 shrug | |
v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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163 shrugs | |
n.耸肩(以表示冷淡,怀疑等)( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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164 shudders | |
n.颤动,打颤,战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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165 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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166 fumble | |
vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等,摸索 | |
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167 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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168 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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169 commotion | |
n.骚动,动乱 | |
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170 furry | |
adj.毛皮的;似毛皮的;毛皮制的 | |
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171 tickles | |
(使)发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 ); (使)愉快,逗乐 | |
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172 crease | |
n.折缝,褶痕,皱褶;v.(使)起皱 | |
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173 rumpled | |
v.弄皱,使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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174 timing | |
n.时间安排,时间选择 | |
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175 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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176 muddle | |
n.困惑,混浊状态;vt.使混乱,使糊涂,使惊呆;vi.胡乱应付,混乱 | |
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177 softens | |
(使)变软( soften的第三人称单数 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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178 dozes | |
n.打盹儿,打瞌睡( doze的名词复数 )v.打盹儿,打瞌睡( doze的第三人称单数 ) | |
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179 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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180 shrills | |
(声音)尖锐的,刺耳的,高频率的( shrill的第三人称单数 ) | |
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181 elastic | |
n.橡皮圈,松紧带;adj.有弹性的;灵活的 | |
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182 luminous | |
adj.发光的,发亮的;光明的;明白易懂的;有启发的 | |
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183 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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184 hopping | |
n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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185 pimply | |
adj.肿泡的;有疙瘩的;多粉刺的;有丘疹的 | |
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186 undone | |
a.未做完的,未完成的 | |
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187 undo | |
vt.解开,松开;取消,撤销 | |
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188 tingling | |
v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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189 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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190 grotto | |
n.洞穴 | |
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191 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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192 fluorescent | |
adj.荧光的,发出荧光的 | |
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193 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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194 wink | |
n.眨眼,使眼色,瞬间;v.眨眼,使眼色,闪烁 | |
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195 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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196 residue | |
n.残余,剩余,残渣 | |
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197 bleating | |
v.(羊,小牛)叫( bleat的现在分词 );哭诉;发出羊叫似的声音;轻声诉说 | |
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198 acme | |
n.顶点,极点 | |
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199 brilliance | |
n.光辉,辉煌,壮丽,(卓越的)才华,才智 | |
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200 swells | |
增强( swell的第三人称单数 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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201 plunges | |
n.跳进,投入vt.使投入,使插入,使陷入vi.投入,跳进,陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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202 trolley | |
n.手推车,台车;无轨电车;有轨电车 | |
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203 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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204 dome | |
n.圆屋顶,拱顶 | |
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205 curbs | |
v.限制,克制,抑制( curb的第三人称单数 ) | |
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206 curb | |
n.场外证券市场,场外交易;vt.制止,抑制 | |
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207 rhythmically | |
adv.有节奏地 | |
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208 deflated | |
adj. 灰心丧气的 | |
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209 joints | |
接头( joint的名词复数 ); 关节; 公共场所(尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所) (非正式); 一块烤肉 (英式英语) | |
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210 gutter | |
n.沟,街沟,水槽,檐槽,贫民窟 | |
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211 swirling | |
v.旋转,打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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212 clogged | |
(使)阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 ); 淤滞 | |
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213 acrid | |
adj.辛辣的,尖刻的,刻薄的 | |
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214 density | |
n.密集,密度,浓度 | |
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215 magisterial | |
adj.威风的,有权威的;adv.威严地 | |
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216 charred | |
v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式);烧焦 | |
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217 collapsed | |
adj.倒塌的 | |
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218 shingles | |
n.带状疱疹;(布满海边的)小圆石( shingle的名词复数 );屋顶板;木瓦(板);墙面板 | |
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219 smolder | |
v.无火焰地闷烧;n.焖烧,文火 | |
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220 spurts | |
短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 ); 突然奋起 | |
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221 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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222 wreckage | |
n.(失事飞机等的)残骸,破坏,毁坏 | |
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223 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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224 torrents | |
n.倾注;奔流( torrent的名词复数 );急流;爆发;连续不断 | |
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225 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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226 shreds | |
v.撕碎,切碎( shred的第三人称单数 );用撕毁机撕毁(文件) | |
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227 serried | |
adj.拥挤的;密集的 | |
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228 synthetic | |
adj.合成的,人工的;综合的;n.人工制品 | |
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229 grudge | |
n.不满,怨恨,妒嫉;vt.勉强给,不情愿做 | |
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230 combustion | |
n.燃烧;氧化;骚动 | |
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231 peripheral | |
adj.周边的,外围的 | |
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232 translucent | |
adj.半透明的;透明的 | |
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233 lithe | |
adj.(指人、身体)柔软的,易弯的 | |
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234 pivots | |
n.枢( pivot的名词复数 );最重要的人(或事物);中心;核心v.(似)在枢轴上转动( pivot的第三人称单数 );把…放在枢轴上;以…为核心,围绕(主旨)展开 | |
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235 snarl | |
v.吼叫,怒骂,纠缠,混乱;n.混乱,缠结,咆哮 | |
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236 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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237 screeches | |
n.尖锐的声音( screech的名词复数 )v.发出尖叫声( screech的第三人称单数 );发出粗而刺耳的声音;高叫 | |
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238 falters | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的第三人称单数 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
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239 beetles | |
n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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240 beetle | |
n.甲虫,近视眼的人 | |
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241 rodent | |
n.啮齿动物;adj.啮齿目的 | |
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242 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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243 ruminates | |
v.沉思( ruminate的第三人称单数 );反复考虑;反刍;倒嚼 | |
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244 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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245 tinkles | |
丁当声,铃铃声( tinkle的名词复数 ); 一次电话 | |
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246 shuddering | |
v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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247 wail | |
vt./vi.大声哀号,恸哭;呼啸,尖啸 | |
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248 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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249 writhes | |
(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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250 fumbling | |
n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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251 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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252 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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253 intersection | |
n.交集,十字路口,交叉点;[计算机] 交集 | |
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254 collapsing | |
压扁[平],毁坏,断裂 | |
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255 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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256 vaults | |
n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 );地下室;撑物跳高;墓穴 | |
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257 lavish | |
adj.无节制的;浪费的;vt.慷慨地给予,挥霍 | |
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258 pastry | |
n.油酥面团,酥皮糕点 | |
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259 casually | |
adv.漠不关心地,无动于衷地,不负责任地 | |
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260 vomit | |
v.呕吐,作呕;n.呕吐物,吐出物 | |
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261 precariously | |
adv.不安全地;危险地;碰机会地;不稳定地 | |
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262 interrogating | |
n.询问技术v.询问( interrogate的现在分词 );审问;(在计算机或其他机器上)查询 | |
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263 sane | |
adj.心智健全的,神志清醒的,明智的,稳健的 | |
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264 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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265 smothered | |
(使)窒息, (使)透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 ); 覆盖; 忍住; 抑制 | |
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266 tints | |
色彩( tint的名词复数 ); 带白的颜色; (淡色)染发剂; 痕迹 | |
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267 sprout | |
n.芽,萌芽;vt.使发芽,摘去芽;vi.长芽,抽条 | |
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268 curdling | |
n.凝化v.(使)凝结( curdle的现在分词 ) | |
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269 gutted | |
adj.容易消化的v.毁坏(建筑物等)的内部( gut的过去式和过去分词 );取出…的内脏 | |
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270 intermittently | |
adv.间歇地;断断续续 | |
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271 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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272 offbeat | |
adj.不平常的,离奇的 | |
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273 automobile | |
n.汽车,机动车 | |
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274 overflows | |
v.溢出,淹没( overflow的第三人称单数 );充满;挤满了人;扩展出界,过度延伸 | |
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275 revving | |
v.(使)加速( rev的现在分词 );(数量、活动等)激增;(使发动机)快速旋转;(使)活跃起来 | |
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276 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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277 stolid | |
adj.无动于衷的,感情麻木的 | |
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278 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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279 cadaver | |
n.尸体 | |
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280 puddles | |
n.水坑, (尤指道路上的)雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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281 scorched | |
烧焦,烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(植物)枯萎,把…晒枯; 高速行驶; 枯焦 | |
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282 twigs | |
细枝,嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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283 apparatus | |
n.装置,器械;器具,设备 | |
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284 strap | |
n.皮带,带子;v.用带扣住,束牢;用绷带包扎 | |
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285 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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286 arson | |
n.纵火,放火 | |
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287 arsonist | |
n.纵火犯 | |
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288 indictment | |
n.起诉;诉状 | |
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289 defiance | |
n.挑战,挑衅,蔑视,违抗 | |
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290 disturbance | |
n.动乱,骚动;打扰,干扰;(身心)失调 | |
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291 hovers | |
鸟( hover的第三人称单数 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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292 barricade | |
n.路障,栅栏,障碍;vt.设路障挡住 | |
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293 notation | |
n.记号法,表示法,注释;[计算机]记法 | |
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294 alleys | |
胡同,小巷( alley的名词复数 ); 小径 | |
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295 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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296 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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297 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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298 offhand | |
adj.临时,无准备的;随便,马虎的 | |
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299 flip | |
vt.快速翻动;轻抛;轻拍;n.轻抛;adj.轻浮的 | |
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300 flips | |
轻弹( flip的第三人称单数 ); 按(开关); 快速翻转; 急挥 | |
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301 lookout | |
n.注意,前途,瞭望台 | |
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302 sodden | |
adj.浑身湿透的;v.使浸透;使呆头呆脑 | |
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303 fixtures | |
(房屋等的)固定装置( fixture的名词复数 ); 如(浴盆、抽水马桶); 固定在某位置的人或物; (定期定点举行的)体育活动 | |
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304 dangle | |
v.(使)悬荡,(使)悬垂 | |
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305 flicker | |
vi./n.闪烁,摇曳,闪现 | |
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306 similes | |
(使用like或as等词语的)明喻( simile的名词复数 ) | |
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307 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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308 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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309 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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310 blanched | |
v.使变白( blanch的过去式 );使(植物)不见阳光而变白;酸洗(金属)使有光泽;用沸水烫(杏仁等)以便去皮 | |
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311 dormant | |
adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
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312 sleeper | |
n.睡眠者,卧车,卧铺 | |
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313 sneaking | |
a.秘密的,不公开的 | |
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314 swarm | |
n.(昆虫)等一大群;vi.成群飞舞;蜂拥而入 | |
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315 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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316 rubble | |
n.(一堆)碎石,瓦砾 | |
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317 murky | |
adj.黑暗的,朦胧的;adv.阴暗地,混浊地;n.阴暗;昏暗 | |
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318 fumes | |
n.(强烈而刺激的)气味,气体 | |
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319 socket | |
n.窝,穴,孔,插座,插口 | |
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320 fable | |
n.寓言;童话;神话 | |
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321 tugging | |
n.牵引感v.用力拉,使劲拉,猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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322 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
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323 stranded | |
a.搁浅的,进退两难的 | |
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324 flattened | |
[医](水)平扁的,弄平的 | |
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325 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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326 whoosh | |
v.飞快地移动,呼 | |
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327 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
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328 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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329 eluded | |
v.(尤指机敏地)避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 );逃避;躲避;使达不到 | |
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330 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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331 dozing | |
v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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332 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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333 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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334 billboard | |
n.布告板,揭示栏,广告牌 | |
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335 whitewashed | |
粉饰,美化,掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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336 smears | |
污迹( smear的名词复数 ); 污斑; (显微镜的)涂片; 诽谤 | |
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337 underlies | |
v.位于或存在于(某物)之下( underlie的第三人称单数 );构成…的基础(或起因),引起 | |
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338 rusted | |
v.(使)生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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339 wrestled | |
v.(与某人)搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 );扭成一团;扭打;(与…)摔跤 | |
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340 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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341 contemplates | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的第三人称单数 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
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342 saliva | |
n.唾液,口水 | |
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343 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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344 complexity | |
n.复杂(性),复杂的事物 | |
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345 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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346 shaft | |
n.(工具的)柄,杆状物 | |
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347 gleaning | |
n.拾落穗,拾遗,落穗v.一点点地收集(资料、事实)( glean的现在分词 );(收割后)拾穗 | |
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348 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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