Somewhere within the soul of civilized1 woman burns a craving2 for that higher power of sensation which we dub3 sensationalism. Girls of Io Welland's upbringing live in an atmosphere which fosters it. To outshine their rivals in the startling things which they do, always within accepted limits, is an important and exciting phase of existence. Io had run away to marry the future Duke of Carfax, partly through the charm which a reckless, headlong, and romantic personality imposed upon her, but largely for the excitement of a reckless, headlong, and romantic escapade. The tragic4 interposition of the wreck5 seemed to her present consciousness, cooled and sobered by the spacious6 peace of the desert, to have been providential.
Despite her disclaimer made to Banneker she felt, deep within the placid7 acceptances of subconsciousness8, that the destruction of a train was not too much for a considerate Providence9 to undertake on behalf of her petted and important self. She clearly realized that she had had a narrow escape from Holmesley; that his attraction for her was transient and unsubstantial, a surface magnetism10 without real value or promise.
In her revulsion of feeling she thought affectionately of Delavan Eyre. There lay the safe basis of habitude, common interests, settled liking11. True, he bored her at times with his unimpeachable12 good-nature, his easy self-assurance that everything was and always would be "all right," and nothing "worth bothering over."
If he knew of her escapade, that would at least shake him out of his soft and well-lined rut. Indeed, Io was frank enough with herself to admit that a perverse13 desire to explode a bomb under her imperturbable14 and too-assured suitor had been an element in her projected elopement. Never would that bomb explode. It would not even fizzle enough to alarm Eyre or her family. For not a soul knew of the frustrated15 scheme, except Holmesley and the reliable friend in Paradiso whom she was to visit; not her father, Sims Welland, traveling in Europe on business, nor her aunt, Mrs. Thatcher16 Forbes, in whose charge she had been left. Ostensibly she had been going to visit the Westerleys, that was all: Mrs. Forbes's misgivings17 as to a twenty-year-old girl crossing the continent alone had been unavailing against Io's calm willfulness.
Well, she would go back and marry Del Eyre, and be comfortable ever after. After all, liking and comprehension were a sounder foundation for matrimony than the perishable18 glamour19 of an attraction like Holmesley's. Any sensible person would know that. She wished that she had some older and more experienced woman to talk it out with. Miss Van Arsdale, if only she knew her a little better....
Camilla Van Arsdale, even on so casual an acquaintance, would have told Io, reckoning with the slumbering21 fire in her eyes, and the sensitive and passionate22 turn of the lips, but still more with the subtle and significant emanation of a femininity as yet unawakened to itself, that for her to marry on the pallid23 expectancies24 of mere25 liking would be to invite disaster and challenge ruin.
Meantime Io wanted to rest and think.
Time enough for that was to be hers, it appeared. Her first night as a guest had been spent in a semi-enclosed porch, to which every breeze wafted26 the spicy27 and restful balm of the wet pines. Io's hot brain cooled itself in that peace. Quite with a feeling of welcome she accepted the windy downpour which came with the morning to keep her indoors, as if it were a friendly and opportune28 jailer. Reaction from the mental strain and the physical shock had set in. She wanted only, as she expressed it to her hostess, to "laze" for a while.
"Then this is the ideal spot for you," Miss Van Arsdale answered her. "I'm going to ride over to town."
"In this gale29?" asked the surprised girl.
"Oh, I'm weather-proof. Tell Pedro not to wait luncheon30 for me. And keep an eye on him if you want anything fit to eat. He's the worst cook west of the plains. You'll find books, and the piano to amuse you when you get up."
She rode away, straight and supple31 in the saddle, and Io went back to sleep again. Halfway32 to her destination, Miss Van Arsdale's woods-trained ear caught the sound of another horse's hooves, taking a short cut across a bend in the trail. To her halloo, Banneker's clear voice responded. She waited and presently he rode up to her.
"Come back with me," she invited after acknowledging his greeting.
"I was going over to see Miss Welland."
"Wait until to-morrow. She is resting."
A shade of disappointment crossed his face. "All right," he agreed. "I wanted to tell her that her messages got off all right."
"I'll tell her when I go back."
"That'll be just as well," he answered reluctantly. "How is she feeling?"
"Exhausted34. She's been under severe strain."
"Oughtn't she to have a doctor? I could ride--"
"She won't listen to it. And I think her head is all right now. But she ought to have complete rest for several days."
"Well, I'm likely to be busy enough," he said simply. "The schedule is all shot to pieces, and, unless this rain lets up, we'll have more track out. What do you think of it?"
Miss Van Arsdale looked up through the thrashing pines to the rush of the gray-black clouds. "I think we're in for a siege of it," was her pronouncement.
They rode along single file in the narrow trail until they emerged into the open. Then Banneker's horse moved forward, neck and neck with the other. Miss Van Arsdale reined35 down her uneasy roan.
"Ban."
"Yes?"
"Have you ever seen anything like her before?"
"Only on the stage."
She smiled. "What do you think of her?"
"I hardly know how to express it," he answered frankly36, though hesitantly. "She makes me think of all the poetry I've ever read."
"That's dangerous. Ban, have you any idea what kind of a girl she is?"
"What kind?" he repeated. He looked startled.
"Of course you haven't. How should you? I'm going to tell you."
"Do you know her, Miss Camilla?"
"As well as if she were my own sister. That is, I know her type. It's common enough."
"It can't be," he protested eagerly.
"Oh, yes! The type is. She is an exquisite37 specimen38 of it; that's all. Listen, Ban. Io Welland is the petted and clever and willful daughter of a rich man; a very rich man he would be reckoned out here. She lives in a world as remote from this as the moon."
"Of course. I realize that."
"It's well that you do. And she's as casual a visitant here as if she had floated down on one moonbeam and would float back on the next."
"She'll have to, to get out of here if this rain keeps up," observed the station-agent grimly.
"I wish she would," returned Miss Van Arsdale.
"Is she in your way?"
"I shouldn't mind that if I could keep her out of yours," she answered bluntly.
Banneker turned a placid and smiling face to her. "You think I'm a fool, don't you, Miss Camilla?"
"I think that Io Welland, without ill-intent at all, but with a period of idleness on her hands, is a dangerous creature to have around. She's too lovely and, I think, too restless a spirit."
"She's lovely, all right," assented39 Banneker.
"Well; I've warned you, Ban," returned his friend in slightly dispirited tones.
"What do you want me to do? Keep away from your place? I'll do whatever you say. But it's all nonsense."
"I dare say it is," sighed Miss Van Arsdale. "Forget that I've said it, Ban. Meddling40 is a thankless business."
"You could never meddle41 as far as I'm concerned," said Banneker warmly. "I'm a little worried," he added thoughtfully, "about not reporting her as found to the company. What do you think?"
"Too official a question for me. You'll have to settle that for yourself."
"How long does she intend to stay?"
"I don't know. But a girl of her breeding and habits would hardly settle herself on a stranger for very long unless a point were made of urging her."
"And you won't do that?"
"I certainly shall not!"
"No; I suppose not. You've been awfully43 good to her."
"Hospitality to the shipwrecked," smiled Miss Van Arsdale as she crossed the track toward the village.
Late afternoon, darkening into wilder winds and harsher rain, brought the hostess back to her lodge44 dripping and weary. On a bearskin before the smouldering fire lay the girl, her fingers intertwined behind her head, her eyes half closed and dreamy. Without directly responding to the other's salutation she said:
"Miss Van Arsdale, will you be very good to me?"
"What is it?"
"I'm tired," said Io. "So tired!"
"Stay, of course," responded the hostess, answering the implication heartily45, "as long as you will."
"Only two or three days, until I recover the will to do something. You're awfully kind." Io looked very young and childlike, with her languid, mobile face irradiated by the half-light of the fire. "Perhaps you'll play for me sometime."
"Of course. Now, if you like. As soon as the chill gets out of my hands."
"Thank you. And sing?" suggested the girl diffidently.
A fierce contraction46 of pain marred47 the serenity48 of the older woman's face. "No," she said harshly. "I sing for no one."
"I'm sorry," murmured the girl.
"What have you been doing all day?" asked Miss Van Arsdale, holding out her hands toward the fire.
"Resting. Thinking. Scaring myself with bogy-thoughts of what I've escaped." Io smiled and sighed. "I hadn't known how worn out I was until I woke up this morning. I don't think I ever before realized the meaning of refuge."
"You'll recover from the need of it soon enough," promised the other. She crossed to the piano. "What kind of music do you want? No; don't tell me. I should be able to guess." Half turning on the bench she gazed speculatively50 at the lax figure on the rug. "Chopin, I think. I've guessed right? Well, I don't think I shall play you Chopin to-day. You don't need that kind of--of--well, excitation."
Musing51 for a moment over a soft mingling53 of chords she began with a little ripple54 of melody, MacDowell's lovely, hurrying, buoyant "Improvisation," with its aeolian vibrancies, its light, bright surges of sound, sinking at the last into cradled restfulness. Without pause or transition she passed on to Grieg; the wistful, remote appeal of the strangely misnamed "Erotique," plaintive55, solemn, and in the fulfillment almost hymnal: the brusque pursuing minors57 of the wedding music, and the diamond-shower of notes of the sun-path song, bleak58, piercing, Northern sunlight imprisoned59 in melody. Then, the majestic60 swing of Ase's death-chant, glorious and mystical.
"Are you asleep?" asked the player, speaking through the chords.
"No," answered Io's tremulous voice. "I'm being very unhappy. I love it!"
Bang! It was a musical detonation61, followed by a volley of chords and then a wild, swirling62 waltz; and Miss Van Arsdale jumped up and stood over her guest. "There!" she said. "That's better than letting you pamper63 yourself with the indulgence of unhappiness."
"But I want to be unhappy," pouted64 Io. "I want to be pampered65."
"Naturally. You always will be, I expect, as long as there are men in the world to do your bidding. However, I must see to supper."
So for two days Io Welland lolled and lazed and listened to Miss Van Arsdale's music, or read, or took little walks between showers. No further mention was made by her hostess of the circumstances of the visit. She was a reticent66 woman; almost saturnine67, Io decided68, though her perfect and effortless courtesy preserved her from being antipathetic to any one beneath her own roof. How much her silence as to the unusual situation was inspired by consideration for her guest, how much due to natural reserve, Io could not estimate.
A little less reticence69 would have been grateful to her as the hours spun70 out and she felt her own spirit expand slowly in the calm. It was she who introduced the subject of Banneker.
"Our quaint20 young station-agent seems to have abandoned his responsibilities so far as I'm concerned," she observed.
"Because he hasn't come to see you?"
"Yes. He said he would."
"I told him not to."
"I see," said Io, after thinking it over. "Is he a little--just a wee, little bit queer in his head?"
"He's one of the sanest71 persons I've ever known. And I want him to stay so."
"I see again," stated the girl.
"So you thought him a bit unbalanced? That _is_ amusing." That the hostess meant the adjective in good faith was proved by her quiet laughter.
Io regarded her speculatively and with suspicion. "He asked the same about me, I suppose." Such was her interpretation72 of the laugh.
"But he gave you credit for being only temporarily deranged73."
"Either he or I ought to be up for examination by a medical board," stated the girl poutingly74. "One of us must be crazy. The night that I stole his molasses pie--it was pretty awful pie, but I was starved--I stumbled over something in the darkness and fell into it with an awful clatter75. What do you suppose it was?"
"I think I could guess," smiled the other.
"Not unless you knew. Personally I couldn't believe it. It felt like a boat, and it rocked like a boat, and there were the seats and the oars76. I could feel them. A steel boat! Miss Van Arsdale, it isn't reasonable."
"Why isn't it reasonable?'
"I looked on the map in his room and there isn't so much as a mud-puddle within miles and miles and miles. Is there?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then what does he want of a steel boat?"
"Ask him."
"It might stir him up. They get violent if you question their pet lunacies, don't they?"
"It's quite simple. Ban is just an incurable77 romanticist. He loves the water. And his repository of romance is the catalogue of Sears, Roebuck and Co. When the new issue came, with an entrancing illustration of a fully42 equipped steel boat, he simply couldn't stand it. He had to have one, to remind him that some day he would be going back to the coast lagoons78.... Does that sound to you like a fool?"
"No; it sounds delicious," declared the girl with a ripple of mirth. "What a wonderful person! I'm going over to see him to-morrow. May I?"
"My dear; I have no control over your actions."
"Have you made any other plans for me to-morrow morning?" inquired Miss Welland in a prim79 and social tone, belied80 by the dancing light in her eyes.
"I've told you that he was romantic," warned the other.
"What higher recommendation could there be? I shall sit in the boat with him and talk nautical81 language. Has he a yachting cap? Oh, do tell me that he has a yachting cap!"
Miss Van Arsdale, smiling, shook her head, but her eyes were troubled. There was compunction in Io's next remark.
"I'm really going over to see about accommodations. Sooner or later I must face the music--meaning Carty. I'm fit enough now, thanks to you."
"Wouldn't an Eastern trip be safer?" suggested her hostess.
"An Eastern trip would be easier. But I've made my break, and it's in the rules, as I understand them, that I've got to see it through. If he can get me now"--she gave a little shrug--"but he can't. I've come to my senses."
Sunlight pale, dubious82, filtering through the shaken cloud veils, ushered83 in the morning. Meager84 of promise though it was, Io's spirits brightened. Declining the offer of a horse in favor of a pocket compass, she set out afoot, not taking the trail, but forging straight through the heavy forest for the line of desert. Around her, brisk and busy flocks of pinon jays darted85 and twittered confidentially86. The warm spice of the pines was sweet in her nostrils87. Little stirrings and rustlings just beyond the reach of vision delightfully88 and provocatively89 suggested the interest which she was inspiring by her invasion among the lesser90 denizens91 of the place. The sweetness and intimacy92 of an unknown life surrounded her. She sang happily as she strode, lithe93 and strong and throbbing94 with unfulfilled energies and potencies95, through the springtide of the woods.
But when she emerged upon the desert, she fell silent. A spaciousness96 as of endless vistas97 enthralled98 and, a little, awed99 her. On all sides were ranged the disordered ranks of the cacti100, stricken into immobility in the very act of reconstituting their columns, so that they gave the effect of a discord101 checked on the verge102 of its resolution into form and harmony, yet with a weird103 and distorted beauty of its own. From a little distance, there came a murmur49 of love-words. Io moved softly forward, peering curiously104, and from the arc of a wide curving ocatilla two wild doves sprang, leaving the branch all aquiver. Bolder than his companions of the air, a cactus105 owl33, perched upon the highest column of a great green candelabrum, viewed her with a steady detachment, "sleepless106, with cold, commemorative eyes." The girl gave back look for look, into the big, hard, unwavering circles.
"You're a funny little bird," said she. "Say something!"
Like his congener of the hortatory poem, the owl held his peace.
"Perhaps you're a stuffed little bird," said Io, "and this not a real desert at all, but a National Park or something, full of educational specimens107."
She walked past the occupant of the cactus, and his head, turning, followed her with the slow, methodical movement of a toy mechanism108.
"You give me a crick in my neck," protested the intruder plaintively109. "Now, I'll step over behind you and you'll _have_ to move or stop watching me."
She walked behind the watcher. The eyes continued to hold her in direct range.
"Now," said Io, "I know where the idea for that horrid110 advertisement that always follows you with its finger came from. However, I'll fix you."
She fetched a deliberate circle. The bird's eyes followed her without cessation. Yet his feet and body remained motionless. Only the head had turned. That had made a complete revolution.
"This is a very queer desert," gasped111 Io. "It's bewitched. Or am I? Now, I'm going to walk once more around you, little owl, or mighty112 magician, whichever you are. And after I've completely turned your head, you'll fall at my feet. Or else..."
Again she walked around the feathered center of the circle. The head followed her, turning with a steady and uninterrupted motion, on its pivot113. Io took a silver dime114 from her purse.
"Heaven save us from the powers of evil!" she said appreciatively. "Aroint thee, witch!"
She threw the coin at the cactus.
"Chrr-rr-rrum!" burbled the owl, and flew away.
"I'm dizzy," said Io. "I wonder if the owl is an omen52 and whether the other inhabitants of this desert are like him; however much you turn their heads, they won't fall for you. Charms and counter-charms!... Be a good child, Io," she admonished115 herself. "Haven't you got yourself into enough trouble with your deviltries? I can't help it," she defended herself. "When I see a new and interesting specimen, I've just _got_ to investigate its nature and habits. It's an inherited scientific spirit, I suppose. And he is new, and awfully interesting--even if he is only a station-agent." Wherefrom it will be perceived that her thoughts had veered116 from the cactus owl, to another perplexing local phenomenon.
The glaring line of the railroad right-of-way rose before her feet, a discordant117 note of rigidity118 and order in the confused prodigality119 of desert growth. Io turned away from it, but followed its line until she reached the station. No sign of life greeted her. The door was locked, and the portable house unresponsive to her knocking. Presently, however, she heard the steady click of the telegraph instrument and, looking through the half-open office window, saw Banneker absorbed in his work.
"Good-morning," she called.
Without looking up he gave back her greeting in an absent echo.
"As you didn't come to see me, I've come to see you," was her next attempt.
Did he nod? Or had he made no motion at all?
"I've come to ask important questions about trains," she pursued, a little aggrieved120 by his indifference121 to her presence.
No reply from the intent worker.
"And 'tell sad stories of the death of kings,'" she quoted with a fairy chuckle122. She thought that she saw a small contortion123 pass over his features, only to be banished124 at once. He had retired125 within the walls of that impassive and inscrutable reserve which minor56 railroad officials can at will erect126 between themselves and the lay public. Only the broken rhythms of the telegraph ticker relieved the silence and furnished the justification127.
A little piqued128 but more amused, for she was far too confident of herself to feel snubbed, the girl waited smilingly. Presently she said in silken tones:
"When you're quite through and can devote a little attention to insignificant130 me, I shall perhaps be sitting on the sunny corner of the platform, or perhaps I shall be gone forever."
But she was not gone when, ten minutes later, Banneker came out. He looked tired.
"You know, you weren't very polite to me," she remarked, glancing at him slantwise as he stood before her.
If she expected apologies, she was disappointed, and perhaps thought none the less of him for his dereliction.
"There's trouble all up and down the line," he said. "Nothing like a schedule left west of Allbright. Two passenger trains have come through, though. Would you like to see a paper? It's in my office."
"Goodness, no! Why should I want a newspaper here? I haven't time for it. I want to see the world"--she swept a little, indicating hand about her; "all that I can take in in a day."
"A day?" he echoed.
"Yes. I'm going to-morrow."
"That's as may be. Ten to one there's no space to be had."
"Surely you can get something for me. A section will do if you can't get a stateroom."
He smiled. "The president of the road might get a stateroom. I doubt if anybody else could even land an upper. Of course I'll do my best. But it's a question when there'll be another train through."
"What ails131 your road?" she demanded indignantly. "Is it just stuck together with glue?"
"You've never seen this desert country when it springs a leak. It can develop a few hundred Niagaras at the shortest notice of any place I know."
"But it isn't leaking now," she objected.
He turned his face to the softly diffused132 sunlight. "To be continued. The storm isn't over yet, according to the way I feel about it. Weather reports say so, too."
"Then take me for a walk!" she cried. "I'm tired of rain and I want to go over and lean against that lovely white mountain."
"Well, it's only sixty miles away," he answered. "Perhaps you'd better take some grub along or you might get hungry."
"Aren't you coming with me?"
"This is my busy morning. If it were afternoon, now--"
"Very well. Since you are so urgent, I _will_ stay to luncheon. I'll even get it up myself if you'll let me into the shack133."
"That's a go!" said Banneker heartily. "What about your horse?"
"I walked over."
"No; did you?" He turned thoughtful, and his next observation had a slightly troubled ring. "Have you got a gun?"
"A gun? Oh, you mean a pistol. No; I haven't. Why should I?"
He shook his head. "This is no time to be out in the open without a gun. They had a dance at the Sick Coyote in Manzanita last night, and there'll be some tough specimens drifting along homeward all day."
"Do you carry a gun?"
"I would if I were going about with you."
"Then you can loan me yours to go home with this afternoon," she said lightly.
"Oh, I'll take you back. Just now I've got some odds134 and ends that will take a couple of hours to clear up. You'll find plenty to read in the shack, such as it is."
Thus casually135 dismissed, Io murmured a "Thank you" which was not as meek136 as it sounded, and withdrew to rummage137 among the canned edibles138 drawn139 from the inexhaustible stock of Sears-Roebuck. Having laid out a selection, housewifely, and looked to the oil stove derived140 from the same source, she turned with some curiosity to the mental pabulum with which this strange young hermit141 had provided himself. Would this, too, bear the mail-order imprint142 and testify to mail-order standards? At first glance the answer appeared to be affirmative. The top shelf of the home-made case sagged143 with the ineffable144 slusheries of that most popular and pious145 of novelists, Harvey Wheelwright. Near by, "How to Behave on All Occasions" held forth146 its unimpeachable precepts147, while a little beyond, "Botany Made Easy" and "The Perfect Letter Writer" proffered148 further aid to the aspiring149 mind. Improvement, stark150, blatant151 Improvement, advertised itself from that culturous and reeking152 compartment153. But just below--Io was tempted154 to rub her eyes--stood Burton's "Anatomy155 of Melancholy"; a Browning, complete; that inimitably jocund156 fictional157 prank158, Frederic's "March Hares," together with the same author's fine and profoundly just "Damnation of Theron Ware"; Taylor's translation of Faust; "The [broken-backed] Egoist"; "Lavengro" (Io touched its magic pages with tender fingers), and a fat, faded, reddish volume so worn and obscured that she at once took it down and made explorative entry. She was still deep in it when the owner arrived.
"Have you found enough to keep you amused?"
She looked up from the pages and seemed to take him all in anew before answering. "Hardly the word. Bewildered would be nearer the feeling."
"It's a queerish library, I suppose," he said apologetically.
"If I believed in dual159 personality--" she began; but broke off to hold up the bulky veteran. "Where did you get 'The Undying Voices'?"
"Oh, that's a windfall. What a bully160 title for a collection of the great poetries, isn't it!"
She nodded, one caressing161 hand on the open book, the other propping163 her chin as she kept the clear wonder of her eyes upon him.
"It makes you think of singers making harmony together in a great open space. I'd like to know the man who made the selections," he concluded.
"What kind of a windfall?" she asked.
"A real one. Pullman travelers sometimes prop162 their windows open with books. You can see the window-mark on the cover of this one. I found it two miles out, beside the right-of-way. There was no name in it, so I kept it. It's the book I read most except one."
"What's the one?"
He laughed, holding up the still more corpulent Sears-Roebuck catalogue.
"Ah," said she gravely. "That accounts, I suppose, for the top shelf."
"Yes, mostly."
"Do you like them? The Conscientious164 Improvers, I mean?"
"Then why did you get them?"
"Oh, I suppose I was looking for something," he returned; and though his tone was careless, she noticed for the first time a tinge166 of self-consciousness.
"Did you find it there?"
"No. It isn't there."
"Here?" She laid both hands on the "windfall."
His face lighted subtly.
"It _is_ there, isn't it! If one has the sense to get it out."
"I wonder," mused129 the girl. And again, "I wonder." She rose, and taking out "March Hares" held it up. "I could hardly believe this when I saw it. Did it also drop out of a car window?"
"No. I never heard of that until I wrote for it. I wrote to a Boston bookstore that I'd heard about and told 'em I wanted two books to cheer up a fool with the blues167, and another to take him into a strange world--and keep the change out of five dollars. They sent me 'The Bab Ballads168' and this, and 'Lavengro.'"
"Oh, how I'd like to see that letter! If the bookstore has an ounce of real bookitude about it, they've got it preserved in lavender! And what do you think of 'March Hares'?"
"Did you ever read any of the works of Harvey Wheelwright?" he questioned in turn.
"Now," thought Io, "he is going to compare Frederic to Wheelwright, and I shall abandon him to his fate forever. So here's his chance ... I have," she replied aloud.
"It's funny," ruminated169 Banneker. "Mr. Wheelwright writes about the kind of things that might happen any day, and probably do happen, and yet you don't believe a word of it. 'March Hares'--well, it just couldn't happen; but what do you care while you're in it! It seems realer than any of the dull things outside it. That's the literary part of it, I suppose, isn't it?"
"That's the magic of it," returned Io, with a little, half-suppressed crow of delight. "Are you magic, too, Mr. Banneker?"
"Me? I'm hungry," said he.
"Forgive the cook!" she cried. "But just one thing more. Will you lend me the poetry book?"
"It's all marked up," he objected, flushing.
"Are you afraid that I'll surprise your inmost secrets?" she taunted170. "They'd be safe. I can be close-mouthed, even though I've been chattering171 like a sparrow."
"Take it, of course," he said. "I suppose I've marked all the wrong things."
"So far," she laughed, "you're batting one hundred per cent as a literary critic." She poured coffee into a tin cup and handed it to him. "What do you think of my coffee?"
He tasted it consideringly; then gave a serious verdict. "Pretty bad."
"Really! I suppose it isn't according to the mail-order book recipe."
"It's muddy and it's weak."
"Are you always so frank in your expression of views?"
"Well, you asked me."
"Would you answer as plainly whatever I asked you?"
"Certainly. I'd have too much respect for you not to."
She opened wide eyes at this. Then provocatively: "What do you think of me, Mr. Banneker?"
"I can't answer that."
"Why not?" she teased.
"I don't know you well enough to give an opinion."
"You know me as well as you ever will."
"Very likely."
"Well, a snap judgment172, for what it's worth.... What are you doing there?"
"Making more coffee."
Io stamped her foot. "You're the most enraging173 man I ever met."
"It's quite unintentional," he replied patiently, but with no hint of compunction. "You may drink yours and I'll drink mine."
"You're only making it worse!"
"Very well; then I'll drink yours if you like."
"And say it's good."
"But what's the use?"
"And say it's good," insisted Io.
"It's marvelous," agreed her unsmiling host.
Far from being satisfied with words and tone, which were correctness itself, Io was insensately exasperated174.
"You're treating me like a child," she charged.
"How do you want me to treat you?"
"As a woman," she flashed, and was suddenly appalled175 to feel the blood flush incredibly to her cheeks.
If he noted176 the phenomenon, he gave no sign, simply assenting177 with his customary equanimity178. During the luncheon she chattered179 vaguely180. She was in two minds about calling off the projected walk. As he set aside his half-emptied cup of coffee--not even tactful enough to finish it out of compliment to her brew--Banneker said:
"Up beyond the turn yonder the right-of-way crosses an arroyo181. I want to take a look at it. We can cut through the woods to get there. Are you good for three miles?"
"For a hundred!" cried Io.
The wine of life was potent182 in her veins183.
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civilized
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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3
dub
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| vt.（以某种称号）授予，给...起绰号，复制 | |
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4
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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5
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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6
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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7
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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8
subconsciousness
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| 潜意识；下意识 | |
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9
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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10
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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11
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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12
unimpeachable
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| adj.无可指责的；adv.无可怀疑地 | |
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13
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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14
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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15
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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16
thatcher
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| n.茅屋匠 | |
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17
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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18
perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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19
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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20
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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21
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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22
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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23
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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24
expectancies
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| 期待，期望( expectancy的名词复数 ) | |
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25
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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26
wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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28
opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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29
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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30
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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31
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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32
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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33
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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34
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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35
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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36
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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37
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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38
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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39
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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41
meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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42
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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43
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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44
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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45
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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46
contraction
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| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
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47
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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48
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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49
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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50
speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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51
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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52
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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53
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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54
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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55
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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56
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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57
minors
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| n.未成年人( minor的名词复数 )；副修科目；小公司；[逻辑学]小前提v.[主美国英语]副修，选修，兼修( minor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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58
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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59
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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61
detonation
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| n.爆炸；巨响 | |
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62
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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63
pamper
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| v.纵容，过分关怀 | |
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64
pouted
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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67
saturnine
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| adj.忧郁的，沉默寡言的，阴沉的，感染铅毒的 | |
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68
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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69
reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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70
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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71
sanest
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的最高级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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72
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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73
deranged
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| adj.疯狂的 | |
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74
poutingly
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| adv.撅嘴 | |
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75
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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76
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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77
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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78
lagoons
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| n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 )；潟湖；（大湖或江河附近的）小而浅的淡水湖；温泉形成的池塘 | |
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79
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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80
belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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81
nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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82
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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83
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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85
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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86
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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87
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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88
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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89
provocatively
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90
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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91
denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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92
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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93
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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94
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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95
potencies
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| n.威力( potency的名词复数 )；权力；效力；（男人的）性交能力 | |
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96
spaciousness
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| n.宽敞 | |
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97
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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98
enthralled
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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99
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
cacti
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| n.（复）仙人掌 | |
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101
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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102
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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103
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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104
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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105
cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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106
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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107
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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108
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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109
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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110
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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111
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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112
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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113
pivot
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| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
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114
dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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115
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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116
veered
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| v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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117
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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118
rigidity
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| adj.钢性，坚硬 | |
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119
prodigality
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| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
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120
aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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121
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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122
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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123
contortion
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| n.扭弯，扭歪，曲解 | |
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124
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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126
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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127
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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128
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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129
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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130
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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131
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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132
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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133
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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134
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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135
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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136
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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137
rummage
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| v./n.翻寻，仔细检查 | |
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138
edibles
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| 可以吃的，可食用的( edible的名词复数 )； 食物 | |
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139
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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140
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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141
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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142
imprint
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| n.印痕，痕迹；深刻的印象；vt.压印，牢记 | |
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143
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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144
ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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145
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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146
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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147
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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148
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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149
aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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150
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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151
blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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152
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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153
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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154
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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155
anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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156
jocund
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| adj.快乐的，高兴的 | |
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157
fictional
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| adj.小说的，虚构的 | |
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158
prank
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| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
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159
dual
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| adj.双的；二重的，二元的 | |
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160
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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161
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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162
prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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163
propping
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| 支撑 | |
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164
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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165
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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166
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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167
blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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168
ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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169
ruminated
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| v.沉思( ruminate的过去式和过去分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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170
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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171
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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172
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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173
enraging
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| 使暴怒( enrage的现在分词 ) | |
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174
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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175
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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176
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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177
assenting
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| 同意，赞成( assent的现在分词 ) | |
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178
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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179
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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180
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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181
arroyo
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| n.干涸的河床，小河 | |
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182
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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183
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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