The House With Three Eyes sent forth1 into the darkness a triple glow of hospitality. Through the aloof2 Chelsea district street, beyond the westernmost L structure, came taxicabs, hansoms, private autos, to discharge at the central door men who were presently revealed, under the lucent globe above the lintel, to be for the most part silhouette3 studies in the black of festal tailoring and silk hat against the white of expansive shirt-front. Occasionally, though less often, one of the doors at either flank of the house, also overwatched by shining orbs4, opened to discharge an early departure. A midnight wayfarer5, pausing opposite to contemplate6 this inexplicable7 grandeur8 in a dingy9 neighborhood, sought enlightenment from the passing patrolman:
"Wot's doin'? Swell11 gamblin' joint12? Huh?" As he spoke13 a huge, silent car crept swiftly to the entry, which opened to swallow up two bareheaded, luxuriously14 befurred women, with their escorts. The curious wayfarer promptly15 amended16 his query17, though not for the better.
"Naw!" replied the policeman with scorn. "That's Mr. Banneker's house."
"Banneker? Who's Banneker?"
With augmented18 contempt the officer requested the latest quotations19 on clover seed. "He's the editor of The Patriot20," he vouchsafed21. "A millionaire, too, they say. And a good sport."
"Givin' a party, huh?"
"Every Saturday night," answered he of the uniform and night-stick, who, having participated below-stairs in the reflections of the entertainment, was condescending22 enough to be informative23. "Say, the swellest folks in New York fall over themselves to get invited here."
"Why ain't he on Fi'th Avenyah, then?" demanded the other.
"He makes the Fi'th Avenyah bunch come to him," explained the policeman, with obvious pride. "Took a couple of these old houses on long lease, knocked out the walls, built 'em into one, on his own plan, and, say! It's a pallus! I been all through it."
A lithely25 powerful figure took the tall steps of the house three at a time, and turned, under the light, to toss away a cigar.
"Cheest!" exclaimed the wayfarer in tones of awe26: "that's K.O. Doyle, the middleweight, ain't it?"
"Sure! That's nothin'. If you was to get inside there you'd bump into some of the biggest guys in town; a lot of high-ups from Wall Street, and maybe a couple of these professors from Columbyah College, and some swell actresses, and a bunch of high-brow writers and painters, and a dozen dames27 right off the head of the Four Hundred list. He takes 'em, all kinds, Mr. Banneker does, just so they're _somethin_'. He's a wonder."
The wayfarer passed on to his oniony boarding-house, a few steps along, deeply marveling at the irruption of magnificence into the neighborhood in the brief year since he had been away.
Equipages continued to draw up, unload, and withdraw, until twelve thirty, when, without so much as a preliminary wink28, the House shut its Three Eyes. A scant29 five minutes earlier, an alert but tired-looking man, wearing the slouch hat of the West above his dinner coat, had briskly mounted the steps and, after colloquy31 with the cautious, black guardian32 of the door, had been admitted to a side room, where he was presently accosted33 by a graying, spare-set guest with ruminative34 eyes.
"I heard about this show by accident, and wanted in," explained the newcomer in response to the other's look of inquiry35. "If I could see Banneker--"
"It will be some little time before you can see him. He's at work."
"But this is his party, isn't it?"
"Yes. The party takes care of itself until he comes down."
"Oh; does it? Well, will it take care of me?"
"Are you a friend of Mr. Banneker's?"
"In a way. In fact, I might claim to have started him on his career of newspaper crime. I'm Gardner of the Angelica City Herald36."
"Ban will be glad to see you. Take off your things. I am Russell Edmonds."
He led the way into a spacious37 and beautiful room, filled with the composite hum of voices and the scent38 of half-hidden flowers. The Westerner glanced avidly39 about him, noting here a spoken name familiar in print, there a face recognized from far-spread photographic reproduction.
"Some different from Ban's shack40 on the desert," he muttered. "Hello! Mr. Edmonds, who's the splendid-looking woman in brown with the yellow orchids41, over there in the seat back of the palms?"
Edmonds leaned forward to look. "Royce Melvin, the composer, I believe. I haven't met her."
"I have, then," returned the other, as the guest changed her position, fully42 revealing her face. "Tried to dig some information out of her once. Like picking prickly pears blindfold43. That's Camilla Van Arsdale. What a coincidence to find her here!"
"No! Camilla Van Arsdale? You'll excuse me, won't you? I want to speak to her. Make yourself known to any one you like the looks of. That's the rule of the house; no introductions."
He walked across the room, made his way through the crescent curving about Miss Van Arsdale, and, presenting himself, was warmly greeted.
"Let me take you to Ban," he said. "He'll want to see you at once."
"But won't it disturb his work?"
"Nothing does. He writes with an open door and a shut brain."
He led her up the east flight of stairs and down a long hallway to an end room with door ajar, notwithstanding that even at that distance the hum of voices and the muffled44 throbbing45 of the concert grand piano from below were plainly audible. Banneker's voice, regular, mechanical, desensitized as the voices of those who dictate46 habitually47 are prone48 to become, floated out:
"Quote where ignorance is bliss49 'tis folly50 to be wise end quote comma said a poet who was also a cynic period. Many poets are comma but not the greatest period. Because of their--turn back to the beginning of the paragraph, please, Miss Westlake."
"I've brought up an old friend, Ban," announced Edmonds, pushing wide the door.
Vaguely51 smiling, for he had trained himself to be impervious52 to interruptions, the editorializer turned in his chair. Instantly he sprang to his feet, and caught Miss Van Arsdale by both hands.
"Miss Camilla!" he cried. "I thought you said you couldn't come."
"I'm defying the doctors," she replied. "They've given me so good a report of myself that I can afford to. I'll go down now and wait for you."
"No; don't. Sit up here with me till I finish. I don't want to lose any of you," said he affectionately.
But she laughingly refused, declaring that he would be through all the sooner for his other guests, if she left him.
"See that she meets some people, Bop," Banneker directed. "Gaines of The New Era, if he's here, and Betty Raleigh, and that new composer, and the Junior Masters."
Edmonds nodded, and escorted her downstairs. Nicely judging the time when Banneker would have finished, he was back in quarter of an hour. The stenographer53 had just left.
"What a superb woman, Ban!" he said. "It's small wonder that Enderby lost himself."
Banneker nodded. "What would she have said if she could know that you, an absolute stranger, had been the means of saving her from a terrific scandal? Gives one a rather shivery feeling about the power and responsibility of the press, doesn't it?"
"It would have been worse than murder," declared the veteran, with so much feeling that his friend gave him a grateful look. "What's she doing in New York? Is it safe?"
"Came on to see a specialist. Yes; it's all right. The Enderbys are abroad."
"I see. How long since you'd seen her?"
"Before this trip? Last spring, when I took a fortnight off."
"You went clear West, just to see her?"
"Mainly. Partly, too, to get back to the restfulness of the place where I never had any troubles. I've kept the little shack I used to own; pay a local chap named Mindle to keep it in shape. So I just put in a week of quiet there."
"You're a queer chap, Ban. And a loyal one."
"If I weren't loyal to Camilla Van Arsdale--" said Banneker, and left the implication unconcluded.
"Another friend from your picturesque54 past is down below," said Edmonds, and named Gardner.
"Lord! That fellow nearly cost me my life, last time we met," laughed Banneker. Then his face altered. Pain drew its sharp lines there, pain and the longing55 of old memories still unassuaged. "Just the same, I'll be glad to see him."
He sought out the Californian, found him deep in talk with Guy Mallory of The Ledger56, who had come in late, gave him hearty57 greeting, and looked about for Camilla Van Arsdale. She was supping in the center of a curiously58 assorted59 group, part of whom remembered the old romance of her life, and part of whom had identified her, by some chance, as Royce Melvin, the composer. All of them were paying court to her charm and intelligence. She made a place beside herself for Banneker.
"We've been discussing The Patriot, Ban," she said, "and Mr. Gaines has embalmed60 you, as an editorial writer, in the amber61 of one of his best epigrams."
The Great Gaines made a deprecating gesture. "My little efforts always sound better when I'm not present," he protested.
"To be the subject of any Gaines epigram, however stinging, is fame in itself," said Banneker.
"And no sting in this one. 'Attic62 salt and American pep,'" she quoted. "Isn't it truly spicy63?"
Banneker bowed with half-mocking appreciation64. "I fancy, though, that Mr. Gaines prefers his journalistic egg more _au naturel_."
"Sometimes," admitted the most famous of magazine editors, "I could dispense65 with some of the pep."
"I like the pep, too, Ban." Betty Raleigh, looking up from a seat where she sat talking to a squat66 and sensual-looking man, a dweller67 in the high places and cool serenities of advanced mathematics whom jocular-minded Nature had misdowered with the face of a satyr, interposed the suave68 candor69 of her voice. "I actually lick my lips over your editorials even where I least agree with them. But the rest of the paper--Oh, dear! It screeches71."
"Modern life is such a din10 that one has to screech70 to be heard above it," said Banneker pleasantly.
"Isn't it the newspapers which make most of the din, though?" suggested the mathematician72.
"Shouting against each other," said Gaines.
"Like Coney Island barkers for rival shows," put in Junior Masters.
"Just for variety how would it do to try the other tack73 and practice a careful but significant restraint?" inquired Betty.
"Wouldn't sell a ticket," declared Banneker.
"Still, if we all keep on yelling in the biggest type and hottest words we can find," pointed74 out Edmonds, "the effect will pall24."
"Perhaps the measure of success is in finding something constantly more strident and startling than the other fellow's war whoop," surmised75 Masters.
"I have never particularly admired the steam calliope as a form of expression," observed Miss Van Arsdale.
"Ah!" said the actress, smiling, "but Royce Melvin doesn't make music for circuses."
"And a modern newspaper is a circus," pronounced the satyr-like scholar.
"Three-ring variety; all the latest stunts76; list to the voice of the ballyhoo," said Masters.
"_Panem et circenses_" pursued the mathematician, pleased with his simile77, "to appease78 the howling rabble79. But it is mostly circus, and very little bread that our emperors of the news give us."
"We've got to feed what the animal eats," defended Banneker lightly.
"After having stimulated80 an artificial appetite," said Edmonds.
As the talk flowed on, Betty Raleigh adroitly81 drew Banneker out of the current of it. "Your Patriot needn't have screeched82 at me, Ban," she murmured in an injured tone.
"Did it, Betty? How, when, and where?"
"I thought you were horridly83 patronizing about the new piece, and quite unkind to me, for a friend."
"It wasn't my criticism, you know," he reminded her patiently. "I don't write the whole paper, though most of my acquaintances seem to think that I do. Any and all of it to which they take exception, at least."
"Of course, I know you didn't write it, or it wouldn't have been so stupid. I could stand anything except the charge that I've lost my naturalness and become conventional."
"You're like the man who could resist anything except temptation, my dear: you can stand anything except criticism," returned Banneker with a smile so friendly that there was no sting in the words. "You've never had enough of that. You're the spoiled pet of the critics."
"Not of this new one of yours. He's worse than Gurney. Who is he and where does he come from?"
"An inconsiderable hamlet known as Chicago. Name, Allan Haslett. Dramatic criticism out there is still so unsophisticated as to be intelligent as well as honest--at its best."
"Which it isn't here," commented the special pet of the theatrical85 reviewers.
"Well, I thought a good new man would be better than the good old ones. Less hampered86 by personal considerations. So I sent and got this one."
"But he isn't good. He's a horrid84 beast. We've been specially87 nice to him, on your account mostly--Ban, if you grin that way I shall hate you! I had Bezdek invite him to one of the rehearsal88 suppers and he wouldn't come. Sent word that theatrical suppers affected89 his eyesight when he came to see the play."
Banneker chuckled90. "Just why I got him. He doesn't let the personal element prejudice him."
"He is prejudiced. And most unfair. Ban," said Betty in her most seductive tones, "do call him down. Make him write something decent about us. Bez is fearfully upset."
Banneker sighed. "The curse of this business," he reflected aloud, "is that every one regards The Patriot as my personal toy for me or my friends to play with."
"This isn't play at all. It's very much earnest. Do be nice about it, Ban."
"Betty, do you remember a dinner party in the first days of our acquaintance, at which I told you that you represented one essential difference from all the other women there?"
"Yes. I thought you were terribly presuming."
"I told you that you were probably the only woman present who wasn't purchasable."
"Not understanding you as well as I do now, I was quite shocked. Besides, it was so unfair. Nearly all of them were most respectable married people."
"Bought by their most respectable husbands. Some of 'em bought away from other husbands. But I gave you credit for not being on that market--or any other. And now you're trying to corrupt91 my professional virtue92."
"Ban! I'm not."
"What else is it when you try to use your influence to have me fire our nice, new critic?"
"If that's being corruptible93, I wonder if any of us are incorruptible." She stretched upward an idle hand and fondled a spray of freesia that drooped94 against her cheek. "Ban; there's something I've been waiting to tell you. Tertius Marrineal wants to marry me."
"I've suspected as much. That would settle the obnoxious95 critic, wouldn't it! Though it's rather a roundabout way."
"Ban! You're beastly."
"Yes; I apologize," he replied quickly. "But--have I got to revise my estimate of you, Betty? I should hate to."
"Your estimate? Oh, as to purchasability. That's worse than what you've just said. Yet, somehow, I don't resent it. Because it's honest, I suppose," she said pensively96. "No: it wouldn't be a--a market deal. I like Tertius. I like him a lot. I won't pretend that I'm madly in love with him. But--"
"Yes; I know," he said gently, as she paused, looking at him steadily97, but with clouded eyes. He read into that "but" a world of opportunities; a theater of her own--the backing of a powerful newspaper--wealth--and all, if she so willed it, without interruption to her professional career.
"Would you think any the less of me?" she asked wistfully.
"Would you think any the less of yourself?" he countered.
The blossoming spray broke under her hand. "Ah, yes; that's the question after all, isn't it?" she murmured.
Meantime, Gardner, the eternal journalist, fostering a plan of his own, was gathering98 material from Guy Mallory who had come in late.
"What gets me," he said, looking over at the host, "is how he can do a day's work with all this social powwow going on."
"A day's? He does three days' work in every one. He's the hardest trained mind in the business. Why, he could sit down here this minute, in the middle of this room, and dictate an editorial while keeping up his end in the general talk. I've seen him do it."
"He must be a wonder at concentration."
"Concentration? If he didn't invent it, he perfected it. Tell you a story. Ban doesn't go in for any game except polo. One day some of the fellows at The Retreat got talking golf to him--"
"The Retreat? Good Lord! He doesn't belong to The Retreat, does he?"
"Yes; been a member for years. Well, they got him to agree to try it. Jim Tamson, the pro--he's supposed to be the best instructor99 in America--was there then. Banneker went out to the first tee, a 215-yard hole, watched Jim perform his show-em-how swing, asked a couple of questions. 'Eye on the ball,' says Jim. 'That's nine tenths of it. The rest is hitting it easy and following through. Simple and easy,' says Jim, winking100 to himself. Banneker tries two or three clubs to see which feels easiest to handle, picks out a driving-iron, and slams the ball almost to the edge of the green. Chance? Of course, there was some luck in it. But it was mostly his everlasting101 ability to keep his attention focused. Jim almost collapsed102. 'First time I ever saw a beginner that didn't top,' says he. 'You'll make a golfer, Mr. Banneker.'
"'Not me,' says Ban. 'This game is too easy. It doesn't interest me.' He hands Jim a twenty-dollar bill, thanks him, goes in and has his bath, and has never touched a golf-stick since."
Gardner had been listening with a kindling103 eye. He brought his fist down on his knee. "You've told me something!" he exclaimed.
"Going to try it out on your own game?"
"Not about golf. About Banneker. I've been wondering how he managed to establish himself as an individual figure in this big town. Now I begin to see it. It's publicity104; that's what it is. He's got the sense of how to make himself talked about. He's picturesque. I'll bet Banneker's first and last golf shot is a legend in the clubs yet, isn't it?"
"It certainly is," confirmed Mallory. "But do you really think that he reasoned it all out on the spur of the moment?"
"Oh, reasoned; probably not. It's instinctive105, I tell you. And the twenty to the professional was a touch of genius. Tamson will never stop talking about it. Can't you hear him, telling it to his fellow pros106? 'Golf's too easy for me,' he says, 'and hands me a double sawbuck! Did ye ever hear the like!' And so the legend is built up. It's a great thing to become a local legend. I know, for I've built up a few of 'em myself.... I suppose the gun-play on the river-front gave him his start at it and the rest came easy."
"Ask him. He'll probably tell you," said Mallory. "At least, he'll be interested in your theory."
Gardner strolled over to Banneker's group, not for the purpose of adopting Mallory's suggestion, for he was well satisfied with his own diagnosis107, but to congratulate him upon the rising strength of The Patriot. As he approached, Miss Van Arsdale, in response to a plea from Betty Raleigh, went to the piano, and the dwindled108 crowd settled down into silence. For music, at The House With Three Eyes, was invariably the sort of music that people listen to; that is, the kind of people whom Banneker gathered around him.
After she had played, Miss Van Arsdale declared that she must go, whereupon Banneker insisted upon taking her to her hotel. To her protests against dragging him away from his own party, he retorted that the party could very well run itself without him; his parties often did, when he was specially pressed in his work. Accepting this, his friend elected to walk; she wanted to hear more about The Patriot. What did she think of it, he asked.
"I don't expect you to like it," he added.
"That doesn't matter. I do tremendously admire your editorials. They're beautifully done; the perfection of clarity. But the rest of the paper--I can't see you in it."
"Because I'm not there, as an individual."
He expounded109 to her his theory of journalism110. That was a just characterization of Junior Masters, he said: the three-ringed circus. He, Banneker, would run any kind of a circus they wanted, to catch and hold their eyes; the sensational111 acts, the clowns of the funny pages, the blare of the bands, the motion, the color, and the spangles; all to beguile112 them into reading and eventually to thinking.
"But we haven't worked it out yet, as we should. What I'm really aiming at is a saturated113 solution, as the chemists say: Not a saturated solution of circulation, for that isn't possible, but a saturated solution of influence. If we can't put The Patriot into every man's house, we ought to be able to put it into every man's mind. All things to all men: that's the formula. We're far from it yet, but we're on the road. And in the editorials, I'm making people stir their minds about real things who never before developed a thought beyond the everyday, mechanical processes of living."
"To what end?" she asked doubtfully.
"Does it matter? Isn't the thinking, in itself, end enough?"
"Brutish thinking if it's represented in your screaming headlines."
"Predigested news. I want to preserve all their brain-power for my editorial page. And, oh, how easy I make it for them! Thoughts of one syllable114."
"And you use your power over their minds to incite115 them to discontent."
"Certainly."
"But that's dreadful, Ban! To stir up bitterness and rancor116 among people."
"Don't you be misled by cant30, Miss Camilla," adjured117 Banneker. "The contented118 who have everything to make them content have put a stigma119 on discontent. They'd have us think it a crime. It isn't. It's a virtue."
"Ban! A virtue?"
"Well; isn't it? Call it by the other name, ambition. What then?"
Miss Van Arsdale pondered with troubled eyes. "I see what you mean," she confessed. "But the discontent that arises within one's self is one thing; the 'divine discontent.' It's quite another to foment120 it for your own purposes in the souls of others."
"That depends upon the purpose. If the purpose is to help the others, through making their discontent effective to something better, isn't it justified121?"
"But isn't there always the danger of making a profession of discontent?"
"That's a shrewd hit," confessed Banneker. "I've suspected that Marrineal means to capitalize it eventually, though I don't know just how. He's a secret sort of animal, Marrineal."
"But he gives you a free hand?" she asked.
"He has to," said Banneker simply.
Camilla Van Arsdale sighed. "It's success, Ban. Isn't it?"
"Yes. It's success. In its kind."
"Is it happiness?"
"Yes. Also in its kind."
"The real kind? The best kind?"
"It's satisfaction. I'm doing what I want to do."
She sighed. "I'd hoped for something more."
He shook his head. "One can't have everything."
"Why not?" she demanded almost fiercely. "You ought to have. You're made for it." After a pause she added: "Then it isn't Betty Raleigh. I'd hoped it was. I've been watching her. There's character there, Ban, as well as charm."
"She has other interests. No; it isn't Betty."
"Ban, there are times when I could hate her," broke out Miss Van Arsdale.
"Who? Betty?"
"You know whom well enough."
"I stand corrected in grammar as well as fact," he said lightly.
"Have you seen her?"
"Yes. I see her occasionally. Not often."
"Does she come here?"
"She has been."
"And her husband?"
"No."
"Ban, aren't you ever going to get over it?"
He looked at her silently.
"No; you won't. There are a few of us like that. God help us!" said Camilla Van Arsdale.
收听单词发音 |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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wayfarer
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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dingy
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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joint
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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condescending
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informative
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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lithely
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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30
cant
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| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
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31
colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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32
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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33
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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34
ruminative
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| adj.沉思的，默想的，爱反复思考的 | |
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35
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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36
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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37
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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38
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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39
avidly
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| adv.渴望地，热心地 | |
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40
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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41
orchids
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| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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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
blindfold
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| vt.蒙住…的眼睛；adj.盲目的；adv.盲目地；n.蒙眼的绷带[布等]； 障眼物，蒙蔽人的事物 | |
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44
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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45
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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46
dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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47
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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48
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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49
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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50
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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51
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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52
impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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53
stenographer
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| n.速记员 | |
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54
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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56
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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57
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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59
assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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60
embalmed
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| adj.用防腐药物保存（尸体）的v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的过去式和过去分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
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61
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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62
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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63
spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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65
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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66
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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68
suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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69
candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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70
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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71
screeches
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| n.尖锐的声音( screech的名词复数 )v.发出尖叫声( screech的第三人称单数 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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72
mathematician
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| n.数学家 | |
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73
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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75
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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76
stunts
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| n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 )；（广告中）引人注目的花招；愚蠢行为；危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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78
appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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79
rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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81
adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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82
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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83
horridly
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| 可怕地，讨厌地 | |
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84
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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85
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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86
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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88
rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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89
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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90
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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92
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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93
corruptible
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| 易腐败的，可以贿赂的 | |
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94
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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96
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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97
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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98
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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99
instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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100
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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101
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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102
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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103
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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104
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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105
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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106
pros
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| abbr.prosecuting 起诉；prosecutor 起诉人；professionals 自由职业者；proscenium （舞台）前部n.赞成的意见( pro的名词复数 )；赞成的理由；抵偿物；交换物 | |
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107
diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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108
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
expounded
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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111
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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112
beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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113
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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114
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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115
incite
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| v.引起，激动，煽动 | |
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116
rancor
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| n.深仇，积怨 | |
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117
adjured
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| v.（以起誓或诅咒等形式）命令要求( adjure的过去式和过去分词 )；祈求；恳求 | |
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118
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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119
stigma
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| n.耻辱，污名；(花的)柱头 | |
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120
foment
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| v.煽动，助长 | |
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121
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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