He runs most of the way to the hospital. Up Summer one block, then down Youngquist, a street parallel to Weiser on the north, a street of brick tenements1 and leftover2 business places, shoe?repair nooks smelling secretively of leather, darkened candy stores, insurance agencies with photographs of tornado3 damage in the windows, real?estate offices lettered in gold, a bookshop. On an old?fashioned wooden bridge Youngquist Street crosses the railroad tracks, which slide between walls of blackened stone soft with soot4 like moss5 through the center of the city, threads of metal deep below in a darkness like a river, taking narrow sunset tints6 of pink from the neon lights of the dives along Railway Street. Music rises to him. The heavy boards of the old bridge, waxed black with locomotive smoke, rumble8 under his feet. Being a small?town boy, he always has a fear of being knifed in a city slum. He runs harder; the pavement widens, parking meters begin, and a new drive?in bank faces the antique Y. M. C. A. He cuts up the alley9 between the Y and a limestone10 church whose leaded windows show the reverse sides of Biblical scenes to the street. He can't make out what the figures are doing. From a high window in the Y. M. C. A. fall the clicks of a billiard game; otherwise the building's broad side is lifeless. Through the glass side door he sees an old Negro sweeping11 up in green aquarium12 light. Now the pulpy13 seeds of some tree are under his feet. Its tropically narrow leaves are black spikes14 against the dark yellow sky. Imported from China or Brazil or somewhere because it can live in soot and fumes15. The St. Joseph's parking lot is a striped asphalt square whose sides are lined with such city trees; and above their tops, in this hard open space, he sees the moon, and for a second stops and communes with its mournful face, stops stark16 on his small scrab-bled shadow on the asphalt to look up toward the heavenly stone that mirrors with metallic17 brightness the stone that has risen inside his hot skin. Make it be all right, he prays to it, and goes in the rear entrance.
The hospital light is bright and blue and shadowless. He walks down a linoleum18 hall perfumed with ether to the front desk. "Angstrom," he tells the nun19 behind the typewriter. "I think my wife is here."
Her plump washerwoman's face is rimmed20 like a cupcake with scalloped linen21. She surveys her cards and says "Yes" and smiles. Her little wire spectacles perch22 way out from her eyes on the pads of fat at the top of her cheeks. "You may wait over there." She points with a pink ballpoint pen. Her other hand rests, beside the typewriter, on a string of black beads23 the size of the necklace of beads carved in Java he once got Janice for Christmas. He stands there staring, expecting to hear her say, She's been here hours, where were you? He can't believe she'll just accept him as another about-to?be father. As he stares, her nerveless white hand, that has never seen the sun, slides the black necklace off the desktop24 into her lap.
Two other men are already established in the waiting end of the room. This is the front entrance hall; people drift in and out. Rabbit sits down on an imitation leather chair with chrome arms and from this touch of metal and the furtive25 clicking quiet gets the idea he's in a police station and these other two men are the cops who made the arrest. It seems they ignore him pointedly26. In his nervousness he plucks a magazine from the table. It's a Catholic magazine the size of the Reader's Digest. He tries to read a story about a lawyer in England who becomes so interested in how legally unfair it was for Henry VIII to confiscate27 the property of the monasteries28 that he becomes a Roman Catholic convert and eventually a monk29. The two men whisper together; one maybe is the other's father. The younger one keeps kneading his hands together and nodding to what the older man whispers.
Eccles comes in, blinking and looking scrawny in his collar. He greets the sister behind the desk by name, Sister Bernard. Rabbit stands up on ankles of air and Eccles comes over with that familiar frown in his eyebrows30. By the harsh hospital light his forehead is etched in purple. He's had a haircut that day; as he turns his skull31, the shaved planes above his ears shine like the blue throat feathers of a pigeon.
Rabbit asks, "Does she know I'm here?" He wouldn't have predicted that he would whisper too. He hates the panicked choke in his voice.
"I'll see that she's told if she's still conscious," Eccles says in a loud voice that makes the whispering men look up. He goes over to Sister Bernard. The nun seems happy to chat, and both laugh, Eccles in the startled guffaw32 Rabbit knows well and Sister Bernard with a pure and girlish fat woman's fluting33 that springs from her throat slightly retracted35, curbed36 by the frame of stiff frills around her face. When Eccles moves away she lifts the phone beside her skirted elbow.
Eccles comes back and looks him in the face, sighs, and offers him a cigarette. The effect is somehow of a wafer of repentance37 and Rabbit accepts. The first drag, after so many clean months, unhinges his muscles and he has to sit down. Eccles takes a hard chair nearby and makes no attempt at conversation. Rabbit can't think of much to say to him off the golf course and, shifting the smoking cigarette awkwardly to his left hand, pulls another magazine off the table, making sure it's unreligious, the Saturday Evening Post. It opens to an article in which the author, who from the photograph looks Italian, tells how he took his wife and four children and mother?in?law on a three?week camping trip to the Canadian Rockies that only cost them $120 not counting the initial investment of a Piper Cub38. His mind can't keep with the words but keeps skidding39 up and branching away and flowering into little visions of Janice screaming, of the baby's head blooming out of blood, of the wicked ridged blue light Janice must be looking into if she's conscious, if she's conscious Eccles said, of the surgeon's red rubber hands and gauze face and Janice's babyish black nostrils40 widening to take in the antiseptic smell he smells, the smell running everywhere along the white walls of their having been washed, of blood being washed and shit washed and retching washed until every surface smells like the inside of a bucket but it will never come clean because we will always fill it up again with our filth41. A damp warm cloth seems wrapped around his heart. He is certain that as a consequence of his sin Janice or the baby will die. His sin a conglomerate43 of flight, cruelty, obscenity, and conceit44; a black clot42 embodied45 in the entrails of the birth. Though his bowels46 twist with the will to dismiss this clot, to retract34, to turn back and undo47, he does not turn to the priest beside him but instead reads the same sentence about delicious fried trout48 again and again.
On the extreme edge of his tree of fear Eccles perches49, black bird, flipping50 the pages of magazines and making frowning faces to himself. He seems unreal to Rabbit, everything seems unreal that is outside of his sensations. His palms tingle51; a strange impression of pressure darts52 over his body, seizing now his legs, now the base of his neck. His armpits itch53 the way they used to when he was little and late for school, running up Jackson Road.
"Where's her parents?" he asks Eccles.
Eccles looks surprised. "I don't know. I'll ask the sister." He moves to get up.
"No no, sit still for Chrissake." Eccles' acting54 like he half?owns the place annoys him. Harry55 wants to be unnoticed; Eccles makes noise. He rattles56 the magazines so it sounds like he's tearing orange crates58 apart, and flips59 cigarettes around like a juggler60.
A woman in white, not a nun, comes into the waiting?room and asks Sister Bernard, "Did I leave a can of furniture polish in here? I can't find it anywhere. A green can, with one of those pushy61 things on top that makes it spritz."
"No, dear."
She looks for it and goes out and after a minute comes back and announces, "Well that's the mystery of the world."
To the distant music of pans, wagons62, and doors, one day turns through midnight into another. Sister Bernard is relieved by another nun, a very old one, dressed in sky blue. As if in her climb toward holiness she got stalled in the sky. The two whispering men go to the desk, talk, and leave, their crisis unresolved. Eccles and he are left alone. Rabbit strains his ears to catch the cry of his child somewhere deep in the hushed hospital maze63. Often he thinks he hears it; the scrape of a shoe, a dog in the street, a nurse giggling64?any of these are enough to fool him. He does not expect the fruit of Janice's pain to make a very human noise. His idea grows, that it will be a monster, a monster of his making. The thrust whereby it was conceived becomes confused in his mind with the perverted65 entry he forced, a few hours ago, into Ruth. Momentarily drained of lust66, he stares at the remembered contortions67 to which it has driven him. His life seems a sequence of grotesque68 poses assumed to no purpose, a magic dance empty of belief. There is no God; Janice can die: the two thoughts come at once, in one slow wave. He feels underwater, caught in chains of transparent69 slime, ghosts of the urgent ejaculations he has spat70 into the mild bodies of women. His fingers on his knees pick at persistent71 threads.
Mary Ann. Tired and stiff and lazily tough after a game he would find her hanging on the front steps under the school motto and they would walk across mulching wet leaves through white November fog to his father's new blue Plymouth and drive to get the heater warmed and park. Her body a branched tree of warm nests yet always this touch of timidity. As if she wasn't sure but he was much bigger, a winner. He came to her as a winner and that's the feeling he's missed since. In the same way she was the best of them all because she was the one he brought most to, so tired. Sometimes the shouting glare of the gym would darken behind his sweat?burned eyes into a shadowed anticipation72 of the careful touchings that would come under the padded gray car roof and once there the bright triumph of the past game flashed across her quiet skin streaked73 with the shadows of rain on the windshield. So that the two kinds of triumph were united in his mind. She married when he was in the Army; a P.S. in a letter from his mother shoved him out from shore. That day he was launched.
But he feels joy now; cramped74 from sitting on the eroded75 chrome?armed chair sick with cigarettes he feels joy in remembering his first girl; the water of his heart has been poured into a thin vase of joy that Eccles' voice jars and breaks.
"Well I've read this article by Jackie Jensen all the way to the end and I don't know what he said," Eccles says.
"Huh?"
"This piece by Jackie Jensen on why he wants to quit baseball. As far as I can tell the problems of being a baseball player are the same as those of the ministry76."
"Say, don't you want to go home? What time is it?"
"Around two. I'd like to stay, if I may."
"I won't run off if that's what you're afraid of."
Eccles laughs and keeps sitting there. Harry's first impression of him had been tenacity77 and now all the intervening companionship has been erased78 and it's gone back to that.
Harry tells him, "When she had Nelson the poor kid was at it for twelve hours."
Eccles says, "The second child is usually easier," and looks at his watch. "It hasn't quite been six hours."
Events create events. Mrs. Springer passes through from the privileged room where she has been waiting and stiffly nods at Eccles; seeing Harry in the corner of her eye makes her stumble on her sore legs and tumbledown saddle shoes. Eccles gets up and goes with her through the door to the outside. After a while the two of them come back in along with Mr. Springer, who wears a tiny?knotted necktie and a laundry?fresh shirt. His little sandy mustache has been trimmed so often his upper lip has kind of shrivelled under it. He says, "Hello, Harry."
This acknowledgment from her husband, despite some talkingto they've probably had from Eccles, goads79 the fat hag into turning on Harry and telling him, "If you're sitting there like a buzzard young man hoping she's going to die, you might as well go back to where you've been living because she's doing fine without you and has been all along."
The two men hustle80 her away while the old nun peers with a quaint81 smile across her desk, deaf ? Mrs. Springer's attack, though it ached to hurt him, is the first thing anybody has said to Harry since this began that seems to fit the enormity of the event going on somewhere behind the screen of hospital soap?smell. Until her words he felt alone on a dead planet encircling the great gaseous82 sun of Janice's labor83; her cry, though a cry of hate, pierced his solitude84. The thought of Janice's death: hearing it voiced aloud has halved85 its terror. That strange scent86 of death Janice breathed: Mrs. Springer also smelled it, and this sharing seems the most precious connection he has with anybody in the world.
Mr. Springer returns and passes through to the outside, bestowing87 upon his son?in?law a painfully complex smile, compounded of a wish to apologize for his wife (we're both men; I know), a wish to keep distant (nevertheless you've behaved unforgivably; don't touch me), and the car salesman's mechanical reflex of politeness. Harry thinks, You crumb88; hurls89 the thought at the slammed door. You slave. Where is everybody going? Where are they coming from? Why can't anybody rest? Eccles comes back and feeds him another cigarette and goes away again. Smoking it makes the floor of his stomach tremble. His throat feels like it does when you wake up after sleeping all night with your mouth open. His own bad breath brushes his nostrils. A doctor with a barrel chest and skinned?looking hands held curled in front of the pouch90 of his smock comes into the anteroom uncertainly. He asks Harry, "Mr. Angstrom? I'm Dr. Crowe." Harry has never met him; Janice used another obstetrician for the first baby and after her hard time her father made her switch to this one. Janice used to visit him once a month and bring home tales of how gentle he was, how wonderfully soft his hands were, how he seemed to know exactly what it was like to be a pregnant woman.
"How ??"
"Congratulations. You have a beautiful little daughter."
He offers his hand so hastily Harry has only time partly to rise, and thus absorbs the news in a crouching91 position. The scrubbed pink of the doctor's face ? his sterile92 mask is unknotted and hangs from one ear, exposing pallid93 beefy lips ? becomes involved in Rabbit's process of trying to give shape and tint7 to the unexpected word "daughter."
"I do? It's O.K.?"
"Six pounds ten ounces. Your wife was conscious throughout and held the baby for a minute after delivery."
"Really? She held it? Was it ? did she have a hard time?"
"No?o. It was normal. In the beginning she seemed tense, but it was a normal delivery."
"That's wonderful. Thank you. Good grief, thank you."
Crowe stands there smiling uneasily. Coming up from the pit of creation, he stammers94 in the open air. In these last hours he has been closer to Janice than Harry ever was, has been grubbing with his hands in her roots, riding her body in its earthquake, yet he has brought back nothing to confide95: no curse, no blessing96. Harry dreads97 that the doctor's eyes will release with thunder the mystery they have absorbed; but Crowe's gaze contains no wrath98. Not even a reprimand. He seems to see Harry as just another in the parade of more or less dutiful husbands whose brainlessly sown seed he spends his life trying to harvest.
Harry asks, "Can I see her?"
"Who?"
Who? That "her" is a forked word now startles him. The world is thickening. "My, my wife."
"Of course, surely." Crowe seems in his mild way puzzled that Harry asks for permission. He must know the facts, yet seems unaware99 of the gap of guilt100 between Harry and humanity. "I thought you might mean the baby. I'd rather you waited until visiting hours tomorrow for that; there's not a nurse to show her right now. But your wife is conscious, as I say. We've given her some Equanil. That's just a tranquillizer. Meprobamate. Tell me" ? he moves closer gently, pink skin and clean cloth ? "is it all right if her mother sees her for a moment? She's been on our necks all night." He's asking him, him, the runner, the fornicator, the monster. He must be blind. Or maybe just being a father makes everyone forgive you, because after all it's the only sure thing we're here for.
"Sure. She can go in."
"Before or after you?"
Harry hesitates, and remembers the way Mrs. Springer came and visited him on his empty planet. "She can go in before."
"Thank you. Good. Then she can go home. We'll get her out in a minute. It'll be about ten minutes all told. Your wife is being prepared by the nurses."
"Swell101." He sits down to show how docile102 he is and rises again. "Say, thanks by the way. Thank you very much. I don't see how you doctors do it."
Crowe shrugs103. "She was a good girl."
"When we had the other kid I was scared silly. It took ages."
"Where did she have it?"
"At the other hospital. Homeopathic."
"Nn?huh." And the doctor, who had gone into the pit and brought back no thunder, emits a spark of spite at the thought of the rival hospital and, wagging his scrubbed head sharply, walks away.
Eccles comes into the room grinning like a schoolboy and Rabbit can't keep his attention on his silly face. He suggests thanksgiving and Rabbit bows his head blankly into his friend's silence. Each heartbeat seems to flatten104 against a wide white wall. When he looks up, objects seem infinitely105 solid and somehow tip, seem so full they are about to leap. His real happiness is a ladder from whose top rung he keeps trying to jump still higher, because he knows he should.
Crowe's phrase about nurses "preparing" Janice has a weird106 May Queen sound. When they lead him to her room he expects to find her with ribbons in her hair and paper flowers twined in the bedposts. But it's just old Janice, lying between two smooth sheets on a high metal bed. She turns her face and says, "Well look who it isn't."
"Hey," he says, and goes over to kiss her, intending it so gently. He bends as you would bend to a glass flower. Her mouth swims in the sweet stink107 of ether. To his surprise her arms come out from the sheets and she puts them around his head and presses his face down into her soft happy swimming mouth. "Hey take it easy," he says.
"I have no legs," she says, "it's the funniest feeling." Her hair is drawn108 tight against her skull in a sanitary109 knot and she has no makeup110 on. Her small skull is dark against the pillow.
"No legs?" He looks down and there they are under the sheets, stretched out flat in a motionless V.
"They gave me a spinal111 or whatever at the end and I didn't feel anything. I was lying there hearing them say push and the next thing here's this teeny flubbly baby with this big moon face looking cross at me. I told Mother it looks like you and she didn't want to hear it."
"She gave me hell out there."
"I wish they hadn't let her in. I didn't want to see her. I wanted to see you."
"Did you, God. Why, baby? After I've been so crummy."
"No you haven't. They told me you were here and all the while I was thinking then it was your baby and it was like I was having you. I'm so full of ether it's just like I'm floating; without any legs. I could just talk and talk." She puts her hands on her stomach and closes her eyes and smiles. "I'm really quite drunk. See, I'm flat."
"Now you can wear your bathing suit," he says, smiling and entering the drift of her ether?talk, feeling himself as if he has no legs and is floating on his back on a great sea of cleanness, light as a bubble amid the starched112 sheets and germless surfaces before dawn. Fear and regret are dissolved, and gratitude113 is blown so large it has no cutting edge. "The doctor said you were a good girl."
"Well isn't that silly; I wasn't. I was horrible. I cried and screamed and told him to keep his hands to himself. Though the thing I minded worst was when this horrible old nun shaved me with a dry razor."
"Poor Janice."
"No it was wonderful. I tried to count her toes but I was so dizzy I couldn't so I counted her eyes. Two. Did we want a girl? Say we did."
"I did." He discovers this is true, though the words discover the desire.
"Now I'll have somebody to side with me against you and Nelson."
"How is Nelson?"
"Oh. Every day, `Daddy home day?' until I could belt him, the poor saint. Don't make me talk about it, it's too depressing."
"Oh, damn," he says, and his own tears, that it seemed didn't exist, sting the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe it was me. I don't know why I left."
"Vnnn." She sinks deeper into the pillow as a lush grin spreads her cheeks apart. "I had a little baby."
"It's terrific."
"You're lovely. You look so tall." She says this with her eyes shut, and when she opens them, they brim with an inebriated114 idea; he has never seen them sparkle so. She whispers, "Harry. The girl in the other bed in here went home today so why don't you sneak115 around when you go and come in the window and we can lie awake all night and tell each other stories? Just like you've come back from the Army or somewhere. Did you make love to lots of other women?"
"Hey, I think you ought to go to sleep now."
"It's all right, now you'll make better love to me." She giggles116 and tries to move in the bed. "No I didn't mean that, you're a good lover you've given me a baby."
"It seems to me you're pretty sexy for somebody in your shape."
"That's how you feel," she says. "I'd invite you into bed with me but the bed's so narrow. Ooh."
"What?"
"I just got this terrible thirst for orangeade."
"Aren't you funny?"
"You're funny. Oh that baby looked so cross."
A nun fills the doorway117 with her wings. "Mr. Angstrom. Time."
"Come kiss," Janice says. She touches his face as he bends to inhale118 her ether again; her mouth is a warm cloud that suddenly splits and her teeth pinch his lower lip. "Don't leave," she says.
"Just for now. I'll be back tomorrow."
"Love you."
"Listen. I love you."
Waiting for him in the anteroom, Eccles asks, "How was she?"
"Terrific."
"Are you going to go back now, to uh, where you were?"
"No," Rabbit answers, horrified119, "for Heaven's sake. I can't."
"Well, then, would you like to come home with me?"
"Look, you've done more than enough. I can go to my parents' place."
"It's late to get them up."
"No, really, I couldn't put you to the trouble." He has already made up his mind to accept. Every bone in his body feels slack.
"It's no trouble; I'm not asking you to live with us," Eccles says. The long night is baring his nerves. "We have scads of room."
"O.K. O.K. Good. Thanks."
They drive back to Mt. Judge along the familiar highway. At this hour it is empty even of trucks. Though this is the pit of the night the sky is a strangely relenting black, really a gray. Harry sits wordless staring through the windshield, rigid120 in body, rigid in spirit. The curving highway seems a wide straight road that has opened up in front of him. There is nothing he wants to do but go down it.
The rectory is asleep. The front hall smells like a closet. Eccles takes him upstairs to a room that has tassels121 on the bedspread. He uses the bathroom stealthily and in underclothes curls up between the rustling122 clean sheets, making the smallest possible volume of himself. Thus curled near one edge, he draws backward into sleep like a turtle drawing into his shell. Sleep this night is not a dark haunted domain123 the mind must consciously set itself to invade, but a cave inside himself, into which he shrinks while the claws of the bear rattle57 like rain outside.
收听单词发音 |
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tenements
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| n.房屋，住户，租房子( tenement的名词复数 ) | |
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leftover
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| n.剩货，残留物，剩饭；adj.残余的 | |
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tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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aquarium
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| n.水族馆，养鱼池，玻璃缸 | |
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pulpy
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| 果肉状的，多汁的，柔软的； 烂糊； 稀烂 | |
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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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rimmed
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| adj.有边缘的，有框的v.沿…边缘滚动；给…镶边 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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beads
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desktop
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| n.桌面管理系统程序；台式 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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confiscate
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| v.没收(私人财产)，把…充公 | |
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monasteries
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| 修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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fluting
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| 有沟槽的衣料； 吹笛子； 笛声； 刻凹槽 | |
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retract
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| vt.缩回，撤回收回，取消 | |
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35
retracted
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| v.撤回或撤消( retract的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝执行或遵守；缩回；拉回 | |
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36
curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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38
cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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39
skidding
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| n.曳出，集材v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的现在分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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40
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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41
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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42
clot
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| n.凝块；v.使凝成块 | |
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43
conglomerate
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| n.综合商社，多元化集团公司 | |
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44
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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45
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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46
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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47
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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48
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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49
perches
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| 栖息处( perch的名词复数 )； 栖枝； 高处； 鲈鱼 | |
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50
flipping
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| 讨厌之极的 | |
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51
tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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52
darts
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| 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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53
itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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54
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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55
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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56
rattles
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| （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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57
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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58
crates
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| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
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59
flips
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| 轻弹( flip的第三人称单数 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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60
juggler
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| n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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61
pushy
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| adj.固执己见的，一意孤行的 | |
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62
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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63
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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64
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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65
perverted
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| adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
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66
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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67
contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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68
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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69
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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70
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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71
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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72
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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73
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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75
eroded
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| adj. 被侵蚀的，有蚀痕的 动词erode的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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76
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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77
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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78
erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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79
goads
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| 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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80
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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81
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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82
gaseous
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| adj.气体的，气态的 | |
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83
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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84
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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85
halved
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| v.把…分成两半( halve的过去式和过去分词 )；把…减半；对分；平摊 | |
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86
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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87
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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88
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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89
hurls
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的第三人称单数 )；大声叫骂 | |
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90
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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91
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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92
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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93
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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94
stammers
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| n.口吃，结巴( stammer的名词复数 )v.结巴地说出( stammer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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95
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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96
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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97
dreads
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| n.恐惧，畏惧( dread的名词复数 )；令人恐惧的事物v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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98
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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99
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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100
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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101
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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102
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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103
shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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104
flatten
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| v.把．．．弄平，使倒伏；使(漆等)失去光泽 | |
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105
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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106
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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107
stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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108
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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109
sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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110
makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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111
spinal
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| adj.针的，尖刺的，尖刺状突起的；adj.脊骨的，脊髓的 | |
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112
starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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114
inebriated
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| adj.酒醉的 | |
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115
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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116
giggles
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| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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117
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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118
inhale
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| v.吸入(气体等)，吸(烟) | |
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119
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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120
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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121
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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122
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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123
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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