When you twist a rope and keep twisting, it begins to lose its straight shape and suddenly a kink, a loop leaps up in it. Harry1 has such a hard loop in himself after he hears Eccles out. He doesn't know what he says to Eccles; all he is conscious of is the stacks of merchandise in jangling packages he can see through the windows of the phone?booth door. On the drugstore wall there is a banner bearing in red the one word PARADICHLOROBENZENE. All the while he is trying to understand Eccles he is rereading this word, trying to see where it breaks, wondering if it can be pronounced. Right when he finally understands, right at the pit of his life, a fat woman comes up to the counter and pays for two bottles of vitamins. He steps into the sunshine outside the drugstore swallowing, to keep the loop from rising in his body and choking him. It's a hot day, the first of summer; the heat comes up off the glittering pavement into the faces of pedestrians2, strikes them sideways off the store windows and hot stone facades3. In the white light faces wear the American expression, eyes squinting4 and mouths sagging5 open in a scowl6, that makes them look as if they are about to say something menacing and cruel. In the street under glaring hardtops drivers bake in stalled traffic. Above, milk hangs in a sky that seems too exhausted7 to clear. Harry waits at a corner with some sweating footsore shoppers for a Mt. Judge bus, number 16n; when it hisses8 to a stop it is already packed. He hangs from a steel bar in the rear, fighting to keep from doubling up with the kink inside. Curved posters advertise filtered cigarettes and suntan lotion9 and C.A.R.E.
He had ridden one of these buses last night into Brewer10 and gone to Ruth's apartment but there was no light on and nobody answered his ring, though there was a dim light behind the frosted glass lettered F. X. PELLIGRINI. He sat around on the steps, looking down at the delicatessen until the lights went out and then looking at the bright church window. When the lights went out behind that he felt alone and hopeless and thought of going home. He wandered up to Weiser Street and looked down at all the lights and the great sunflower and couldn't see a bus and kept walking, down to the south side, and became afraid by himself and went into a low?looking hotel and bought a room. He didn't sleep very well; a neon tube with a taped connection fizzled outside the window and some woman kept laughing in another room. He woke up early enough to go back to Mt. Judge and get a suit and go to work but something held him back. Something held him back all day. He tries to think of what it was because whatever it was murdered his daughter. Wanting to see Ruth again was some of it but it was clear after he went around to her address in the morning that she wasn't there probably off to Atlantic City with some prick11 and still he wandered around Brewer, going in and out of department stores with music piping from the walls and eating a hot dog at the five and dime12 and hesitating outside a movie house but not going in and keeping an eye out for Ruth. He kept expecting to see the fat shoulders he used to kiss jostle out of a crowd and the ginger13 hair he used to beg to unpin shining on the other side of a rack of birthday cards. But it was a city of over a hundred thousand and the odds14 were totally against him and anyway there was tons of time, he could find her another day. No, what kept him in the city despite the increasing twisting inside that told him something was wrong back home, what kept him walking through the cold air breathed from the doors of movie houses and up and down between counters of perfumed lingerie and tinny jewelry15 and salted nuts (poor old Jan) and up into the park along paths he walked once with Ruth to watch from under a horsechestnut tree five mangy kids play cat with a tennis ball and a broomstick and then finally back down Weiser to the drugstore he called from, what kept him walking was the idea that somewhere he'd find an opening. For what made him mad at Janice wasn't so much that she was in the right for once and he was wrong and stupid but the closed feeling of it, the feeling of being closed in. He had gone to church and brought back this little flame and had nowhere to put it on the dark damp walls of the apartment, so it had flickered16 and gone out. And he realized that he wouldn't always be able to produce this flame. What held him back all day was the feeling that somewhere there was something better for him than listening to babies cry and cheating people in used?car lots and it's this feeling he tries to kill, right there on the bus; he grips the chrome bar and leans far over two women with white pleated blouses and laps of packages and closes his eyes and tries to kill it. The kink in his stomach starts to take the form of nausea17 and he clings to the icy bar bitterly as the bus swings around the mountain.
He gets off, in a sweat, blocks too soon. Here in Mt. Judge the shadows have begun to grow deep, the sun baking Brewer rides the crest18 of the mountain, and his sweat congeals19, shortening his breath. He runs to keep his body occupied, to joggle his mind blank. Past a dry?cleaning plant with a little pipe hissing20 steam at the side. Through the oil and rubber smells riding above the asphalt pond around the red pumps of an Esso station. Past the Mt. Judge town?hall lawn and the World War II honor roll with the name plaques21 crumbled22 and blistered23 behind glass. His chest begins to hurt and he slows to a walk.
When he gets to the Springers' house Mrs. comes to the door and shuts it in his face. But he knows from the gray Buick parked outside big as a battleship that Eccles is in there and in a little while Jack24 comes to the door and lets him in. He says conspiratorially25 in the dim hall, "Your wife has been given a sedative26 and is asleep."
"The baby. . .
"The undertaker has her."
Rabbit wants to cry out, it seems indecent, for the undertaker to be taking such a tiny body, that they ought to bury it in its own simplicity27, like the body of a bird, in a small hole dug in the grass. But he nods. He feels he will never resist anything again.
Eccles goes upstairs and Harry sits in a chair and watches the light from the window play across an iron table of ferns and African violets and baby cacti28. Where it hits the leaves they are bright yellow?green; the leaves in shadow in front of them look like black?green holes cut in this golden color. Somebody comes down the stairs with an erratic29 step. He doesn't turn his head to see who it is; he doesn't want to risk looking anybody in the face. A furry30 touch on his forearm and he meets Nelson's eyes. The child's face is stretched shiny with curiosity. "Mommy sleep," he says in a deep voice imitating the tragedy?struck voices he has been hearing.
Rabbit pulls him up into his lap. He's heavier and longer than he used to be. His body acts as a covering; he pulls the boy's head down against his neck. Nelson asks, "Baby sick?"
"Baby sick."
"Big, big water in tub," Nelson says, and straggles to sit up so he can explain with his amts, which go wide. "Mom?mom came and took Mommy away." What all did the poor kid see? He wants to get off his father's lap but Harry holds him fast with a kind of terror; the house is thick with a grief that seems to threaten the boy. Also the boy's body wriggles31 with an energy that threatens the grief, might tip it and bring the whole house crashing down on them. It is himself he is protecting by imprisoning32 the child.
Eccles comes downstairs and stands there studying them. "Why don't you take him outside?" he asks. "He's had a nightmare of a day. >,
They all three go outdoors. Eccles takes Harry's hand in a long quiet grip and says, "Stay here. You're needed, even if they don't tell you." After Eccles pulls away in his car, he and Nelson sit in the grass by the driveway and throw bits of gravel33 down toward the pavement. The boy laughs and talks in excitement but out here the sound is not so loud. Harry feels thinly protected by the fact that this is what Eccles told him to do. Men are walking home from work along the pavement; Nelson tosses a pebble34 too near the feet of one and the man looks up. This unknown face seems to stare at Harry from deep in another world, the world of the blameless, the world outside the bubble of Becky's death. He and Nelson change their target to a green lawn?seeder leaning against the wall of the garage. Harry hits it four times running. Though the air is still light the sunshine has shrunk to a few scraps35 in the tops of trees. The grass is growing damp and he wonders if he should sneak36 Nelson in the door and go.
Mr. Springer comes to the door and calls, "Harry." They go over. "Becky's made a few sandwiches in place of supper," he says. "You and the boy come in." They go into the kitchen and Nelson eats. Harry refuses everything except a glass of water. Mrs. Springer is not in the kitchen and Harry is grateful for her absence. "Harry," Mr. Springer says, and stands up, patting his mustache with two fingers, like he's about to make a financial concession37, "Reverend Eccles and Becky and I have had a talk. I won't say I don't blame you because of course I do. But you're not the only one to blame. Her mother and I somehow never made her feel secure, never perhaps you might say made her welcome, I don't know" ? his little pink crafty38 eyes are not crafty now, blurred39 and chafed40 ? "we gave her all we had, I'd like to think. At any rate" ? this comes out harsh and crackly; he pauses to regain41 quietness in his voice ? "life must go on. Am I making any sense to you?"
"Yes sir."
"Life must go on. We must go ahead with what we have left. Though Becky's too upset to see you now, she agrees. We had a talk and agree that it's the only way. I mean, what I mean to say, I can see you're puzzled, is that we consider you in our family, Harry, despite" ? he lifts an arm vaguely42 toward the stairs ? "this." His arm slumps43 back and he adds the word "accident."
Harry shields his eyes with his hand. They feel hot and vulnerable to light. "Thank you," he says, and almost moans in his gratitude44 to this man, whom he has always despised, for making a speech so generous. He tries to frame, in accordance with an etiquette45 that continues to operate in the thick of grief as if underwater, a counter?speech. "I promise I'll keep my end of the bargain," he brings out, and stops, stifled46 by the abject47 sound of his voice. What made him say bargain?
"I know you will," Springer says. "Reverend Eccles assures us you will."
"Dessert," Nelson says distinctly.
"Nelly, why don't you take a cookie to bed?" Springer speaks with a familiar jollity that, though strained, reminds Rabbit that the kid lived here for months. "Isn't it your bedtime? Shall Mommom take you up?"
"Daddy," Nelson says, and slides off his chair and comes to his father.
Both men are embarrassed. "O.K.," Rabbit says. "You show me your room."
Springer gets two Oreo cookies out of the pantry and unexpectedly Nelson runs forward to hug him. He stoops to accept the hug and his withered48 dandy's face goes blank against the boy's cheek; big black square cufflinks, thinly rimmed49 and initialed S in gold, creep out of his coat sleeves as his amts tighten50 the hug.
As Nelson leads his father to the stairs they pass the room where Mrs. Springer is sitting. Rabbit has a glimpse of a puffed51 face slippery with tears, like an interior organ surgically52 exposed, and averts53 his eyes. He whispers to Nelson to go in and kiss her good night. When the boy returns to him they go upstairs and down a smooth corridor papered with a design of old?style cars into a little room whose white curtains are tinted54 green by a tree outside. On either side of the window symmetrical pictures, one of kittens and one of puppies, are hung. He wonders if this was the room where Janice was little. It has a musty innocence55, and a suspense56, as if it stood empty for years. An old teddy bear, the fur worn down to cloth and one eye void, sits in a broken child's rocker. Has it been Janice's? Who pulled the eye out? Nelson becomes queerly passive in this room. Harry undresses the sleepy body, tanned brown all but the narrow bottom, puts it into pajamas57 and into bed and arranges the covers over it. He tells him, "You're a good boy." "Yop. > "I'm going to go now. Don't be scared." "Daddy go way?" "So you can sleep. I'll be back." "O.K. Good." "Good." "Daddy?" "What?" "Is baby Becky dead?" "Yes." "Was she scared?" "Oh no. No. She wasn't scared." "Is she happy?" "Yeah, she's very happy now." "Good." "Don't you worry about it." "O.K."
"You snuggle up." "Yop." "Think about throwing stones." "When I grow up, I'll throw them very far." "That's right. You can throw them pretty far now." "I know it." "O.K. Go to sleep." Downstairs he asks Springer, who is washing dishes in the kitchen, "You don't want me to stay here tonight, do you?" "Not tonight, Harry. I'm sorry. I think it would be better not tonight."
"O.K., sure. I'll go back to the apartment. Shall I come over in the morning?"
"Yes, please. We'll give you breakfast."
"No, I don't want any. I mean, to see Janice when she wakes up.'
"Yes of course."
"You think she'll sleep the night through."
"I think so."
"Uh ? I'm sorry I wasn't at the lot today."
"Oh, that's nothing. That's negligible."
"You don't want me to work tomorrow, do you?"
"Of course not."
"I still have the job, don't I?"
"Of course." His talk is gingerly; his eyes fidget; he feels his wife is listening.
"You're being awfully58 good to me."
Springer doesn't answer; Harry goes out through the sunporch, so he won't have to glimpse Mrs. Springer's face again, and around the house and walks home in the soupy summer dark, which tinkles59 with the sounds of dishes being washed. He climbs Wilbur Street and goes in his old door and up the stairs. There is still that faint smell of something like cabbage cooking. He lets himself into the apartment with his key and turns on all the lights as rapidly as he can. He goes into the bathroom and the water is still in the tub. Some of it has seeped60 away so the top of the water is an inch below a faint gray line on the porcelain61 but the tub is still more than half full. A heavy, calm volume, odorless, tasteless, colorless, the water shocks him like the presence of a silent person in the bathroom. Stillness makes a dead skin on its unstirred surface. There's even a kind of dust on it. He rolls back his sleeve and reaches down and pulls the plug; the water swings and the drain gasps62. He watches the line of water slide slowly and evenly down the wall of the tub, and then with a crazed vortical cry the last of it is sucked away. He thinks how easy it was, yet in all His strength God did nothing. Just that little rubber stopper to lift.
In bed he discovers that his legs ache from all the walking he did in Brewer today. His shins feel splintered; no matter how he twists, the pain, after a moment of relief gained by the movement, sneaks63 back. He tries praying to relax him but it doesn't do it. There's no connection. He opens his eyes to look at the ceiling and the darkness is mottled with an unsteady network of veins64 like the net of yellow and blue that mottled the skin of his baby. He remembers seeing her neat red profile through the window at the hospital and a great draft of grief sweeps through him, brings him struggling out of bed to turn on the lights. The electric glare seems thin. His groin aches to weep. He is afraid to stick even his hand into the bathroom; he fears if he turns on the light he will see a tiny wrinkled blue corpse65 lying face up on the floor of the drained tub. The pressure in his bladder grows until he is at last forced to dare; the dark bottom of the tub leaps up blank and white.
He expects never to go to sleep and, awaking with the slant66 of sunshine and the noise of doors slamming downstairs, feels his body has betrayed his soul. He dresses in haste, more panicked now than at any time yesterday. The event is realer. Invisible cushions press against his throat and slow his legs and arms; the kink in his chest has grown thick and crusty. Forgive me, forgive me, he keeps saying silently to no one.
He goes over to the Springers' and the tone of the house has changed; he feels everything has been rearranged slightly to make a space into which he can fit by making himself small. Mrs. Springer serves him orange juice and coffee and even speaks, cautiously.
"Do you want cream?"
"No. No. I'll drink it black."
"We have cream if you want it."
"No, really. It's fine."
Janice is awake. He goes upstairs and lies down beside her on the bed; she clings to him and sobs67 into the cup between his neck and jaw68 and the sheet. Her face has been shrunk; her body seems small as a child's, and hot and hard. She tells him, "I can't stand to look at anyone except you. I can't bear to look at the others."
"It wasn't your fault," he tells her. "It was mine."
"I've got my milk back," Janice says, "and every time my breasts sting I think she must be in the next room."
They cling together in a common darkness; he feels the walls between them dissolve in a flood of black; but the heavy knot of apprehension69 remains70 in his chest, his own.
He stays in the house all that day. Visitors come, and tiptoe about. Their manner suggests that Janice upstairs is very sick. They sit, these women, over coffee in the kitchen with Mrs. Springer, whose petite rounded voice, oddly girlish divorced from the sight of her body, sighs on and on like an indistinct, rising and falling song. Peggy Fosnacht comes, her sunglasses off, her walleyes wide to the world, and goes upstairs. Her son Billy plays with Nelson, and no one moves to halt their squeals71 of anger and pain in the back yard, which, neglected, in time die away. Even Harry has a visitor. The doorbell rings and Mrs. Springer goes and comes into the dim room where Harry is sitting looking at magazines and says, in a surprised and injured voice, "A man for you."
She leaves the doorway72 and he gets up and walks a few steps forward to greet the man coming into the room, Tothero, leaning on a cane73 and his face half?paralyzed; but talking, walking, alive. And the baby dead. "Hi! Gee74, how are you?"
"Harry." With the hand that is not on the cane he grips Harry's arm. He brings a long look to bear on Harry's face; his mouth is tweaked downward on one side and the skin over his eye on this side is dragged down diagonally so it nearly curtains the glitter. The gouging75 grip of his fingers trembles.
"Let's sit down," Rabbit says, and helps him into an easy chair. Tothero knocks off a doily in arranging his arms. Rabbit brings over a straight chair and sits close so he won't have to raise his voice. "Should you be running around?" he asks when Tothero says nothing.
"My wife brought me. In the car. Outside, Harry. We heard your terrible news. Didn't I warn you?" Already his eyes are bulging76 with water.
"When?"
"When?" The stricken side of his face is turned away, perhaps consciously, into shadow, so his smile seems wholly alive, wise, and sure. "That first night. I said go back. I begged you."
"I guess you did. I've forgotten."
"No you haven't. No you haven't, Harry." His breath chuffs on the "Ha" of "Harry." "Let me tell you something. Will you listen?"
"Sure."
"Right and wrong," he says, and stops; his big head shifts, and the stiff downward lines of his mouth and bad eye show. "Right and wrong aren't dropped from the sky. We. We make them. Against misery77. Invariably, Harry, invariably" ? he grows confident of his ability to negotiate long words ?"misery follows their disobedience. Not our own, often at first not our own. Now you've had an example of that in your own life." Rabbit wonders when the tear?trails appeared on Tothero's cheeks; there they are, like snail78?tracks. "Do you believe me?"
"Sure. Sure. Look, I know this has been my fault. I've felt like a, like an insect ever since it happened."
Tothero's tranquil79 smile deepens; a faint rasping purr comes out of his face. "I warned you," he says, "I warned you, Harry, but youth is deaf. Youth is careless."
Harry blurts80, "But what can I do?"
Tothero doesn't seem to hear. "Don't you remember? My begging you to go back?"
"I don't know, I guess so."
"Good. Ali. You're still a fine man, Harry. You have a healthy body. When I'm dead and gone, remember how your old coach told you to avoid suffering. Remember." The last word is intoned coyly, with a little wag of the head; on the thrust of this incongruous vivacity81 he rises from his chair, and prevents himself from pitching forward by quick use of his cane. Harry jumps up in alarm, and the two of them stand for the moment very close. The old man's big head breathes a distressing82 scent83, not so much medicine as a vegetable staleness. "You young people," he says with a rising intonation84, a schoolteacher's tone, scolding yet sly, "tend to forget. Don't you? Now don't you?"
He wants this admission mysteriously much. "Sure," Rabbit says, praying he'll go.
Harry helps him to his car, a '57 blue?and?cream Dodge85 waiting in front of the orange fire hydrant. Mrs. Tothero offers, rather coolly, her regrets at the death of his infant daughter. She looks harried86 and noble. Gray hair straggles down across her finely wrinkled silver temple. She wants to get away from here, away with her prize. Beside her on the front seat Tothero looks like a smirking87 gnome88, brainlessly stroking the curve of his cane. Rabbit returns to the house feeling depressed89 and dirtied by the visit. Tothero's revelation chilled him. He wants to believe in the sky as the source of all dictates90.
Eccles comes later in the afternoon, to complete the arrangements for the funeral: it will be held tomorrow afternoon, Wednesday. As he leaves Rabbit catches his attention and they talk in the front hall a moment. "What do you think?" Rabbit asks.
"About what?"
"What shall I do?"
Eccles glances up nervously91. His face has that pale babyish look of someone who has not slept enough. "Do what you are doing," he says. "Be a good husband. A good father. Love what you have left."
"And that's enough?"
"You mean to earn forgiveness? I'm sure it is, carried out through a lifetime."
"I mean" ? he's never before felt pleading with Eccles "remember that thing we used to talk about? The thing behind everything?"
"Harry, you know I don't think that thing exists in the way you think it does."
"O.K." He realizes that Eccles wants to get away too, that the sight of himself is painful, disgusting.
Eccles must see that he senses this, for he curtly92 summons up merry and makes an attempt. "Harry, it's not for me to forgive you. You've done nothing to me to forgive. I'm equal with you in guilt93. We must work for forgiveness; we must earn the right to see that thing behind everything. Harry, I know that people are brought to Christ. I've seen it with my eyes and tasted it with my mouth. And I do think this. I think marriage is a sacrament, and that this tragedy, terrible as it is, has at last united you and Janice in a sacred way."
Through the next hours Rabbit clings to this belief, though it seems to bear no relation to the colors and sounds of the big sorrowing house, the dabs94 and arcs of late sunshine in the little jungle of plants on the glass table, or the almost wordless supper he and Janice share in her bedroom.
收听单词发音 |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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pedestrians
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| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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facades
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| n.（房屋的）正面( facade的名词复数 )；假象，外观 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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lotion
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| n.洗剂 | |
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brewer
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| n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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congeals
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| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的第三人称单数 )；（指血）凝结 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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plaques
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| （纪念性的）匾牌( plaque的名词复数 )； 纪念匾； 牙斑； 空斑 | |
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crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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conspiratorially
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sedative
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| adj.使安静的，使镇静的；n. 镇静剂，能使安静的东西 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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cacti
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| n.（复）仙人掌 | |
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erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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wriggles
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| n.蠕动，扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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imprisoning
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| v.下狱，监禁( imprison的现在分词 ) | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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34
pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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35
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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36
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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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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40
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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43
slumps
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| 萧条期( slump的名词复数 )； （个人、球队等的）低潮状态； （销售量、价格、价值等的）骤降； 猛跌 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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45
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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46
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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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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tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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52
surgically
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| adv. 外科手术上, 外科手术一般地 | |
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averts
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| 防止，避免( avert的第三人称单数 )； 转移 | |
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tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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tinkles
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| 丁当声，铃铃声( tinkle的名词复数 )； 一次电话 | |
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seeped
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的过去式和过去分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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sneaks
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| 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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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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squeals
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| n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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gouging
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| n.刨削[槽]v.凿( gouge的现在分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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snail
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| n.蜗牛 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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blurts
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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81
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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82
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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83
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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84
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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85
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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86
harried
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| v.使苦恼( harry的过去式和过去分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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smirking
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| v.傻笑( smirk的现在分词 ) | |
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gnome
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| n.土地神；侏儒，地精 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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90
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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92
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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93
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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dabs
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| 少许( dab的名词复数 )； 是…能手； 做某事很在行； 在某方面技术熟练 | |
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