A boisterous5 wind had roused Lake Linderman, and out of the inky blackness came the sound of its anger. As Pierce groped his way up to the nearest skiff he was startled by receiving a sharp challenge in the Countess Courteau's voice.
"Who is that?" she cried.
"It's I, Pierce," he answered, quickly. He discovered the woman finally, and, approaching closer, he saw that she was sitting on a pile of freight, her heels drawn6 up beneath her and her arms clasped around her knees. "I came down to make sure everything was snug7. But what are you doing here?"
She looked down into his upturned face and her white teeth showed in a smile. "I came for the same purpose. Now I'm waiting for the storm to break. You can make out the clouds when your eyes grow accustomed—"
"It's too windy. You'll catch cold," he declared.
"Oh, I'm warm, and I love storms!" She stared out into the night, then added, "I'm a stormy creature."
Again he urged her to return to her tent, and in his voice was such genuine concern that she laid her hand upon his shoulder. It was a warm, impulsive8 gesture and it betrayed a grateful appreciation9 of his solicitude10; it was the first familiarity she had ever permitted herself to indulge in, and when she spoke11 it was in an unusually intimate tone:
"You're a good friend, Pierce. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Phillips' surprise robbed him momentarily of speech. This woman possessed13 a hundred moods; a few hours before she had treated him with a cool indifference14 that was almost studied; now, without apparent reason, she had turned almost affectionate. Perhaps it was the night, or the solitude15, that drew them together; whatever the reason, those first few words, that one impulsive gesture, assured Pierce that they were very close to each other, for the moment at least.
"I'm—glad," he said, finally. "I wish I were more—I wish—"
"I wish you COULDN'T do without me." It was out; he realized in a panic that his whole secret was hers. With no faintest intention of speaking, even of hinting at the truth, he had blurted18 forth19 a full confession20. She had caught him off guard, and, like a perfect ass16, he had betrayed himself. What would she think? How would she take his audacity21, his presumption22? He was surprised to feel her fingers tighten23 briefly24 before her hand was withdrawn25.
The Countess Courteau was not offended. Had it not been for that pressure upon his shoulder Phillips would have believed that his words had gone unheard, for she entirely26 ignored them.
"Night! Wind! Storm!" she said, in a queer, meditative27 tone. "They stir the blood, don't they? Not yours, perhaps, but mine. I was always restless. You see, I was born on the ocean—on the way over here. My father was a sailor; he was a stormy-weather man. At a time like this everything in me quickens, I'm aware of impulses I never feel at other times—desires I daren't yield to. It was on a stormy night that the Count proposed to me." She laughed shortly, bitterly. "I believed him. I'd believe anything—I'd do, I'd dare anything—when the winds are reckless." She turned abruptly28 to her listener and it seemed to him that her eyes were strangely luminous29. "Have you ever felt that way?"
He shook his head.
"Lucky for you; it would be a man's undoing30. Tell me, what am I? What do you make of me?" While the young man felt for an answer she ran on: "I'd like to know. What sort of woman do you consider me? How have I impressed you? Speak plainly—no sentiment. You're a clean-minded, unsophisticated boy. I'm curious to hear—"
"I can't speak like a boy," he said, gravely, but with more than a hint of resentment31 in his tone, "for—I'm not a boy. Not any longer."
"Oh yes, you are! You're fresh and wholesome32 and honorable and— Well, only boys are that. What do I seem, to you?"
"You're a chameleon33. There's nobody in the world quite like you. Why, at this minute you're different even to yourself. You—take my breath—"
"Do you consider me harsh, masculine—?"
"Oh no!"
"I'm glad of that. I'm not, really. I've had a hard experience and my eyes were opened early. I know poverty, disappointment, misery34, everything unpleasant, but I'm smart and I know how to get ahead. I've never stood still. I've learned how to fight, too, for I've had to make my own way. Why, Pierce, you're the one man who ever did me an unselfish favor or a real, disinterested35 courtesy. Do you wonder that I want to know what kind of a creature you consider me?"
The Countess did not heed38 this remark; she did not seem to read the least significance into it. Her chin was upon her knees, her face was turned again to the darkness whence came the rising voice of stormy waters. The wind whipped a strand39 of her hair into Phillips' face.
"It is hard work fighting men—and women, too—and I'm awfully40 tired. Tired inside, you understand. One gets tired fighting alone—always alone. One has dreams of—well, dreams. It's a pity they never come true."
"What are some of them?" he inquired.
The woman, still under the spell of her hour, made as if to answer; then she stirred and raised her head. "This isn't a safe night to talk about them. I think I shall go to bed." She extended her hand to Phillips, but instead of taking it he reached forth and lifted her bodily down out of the wind. She gasped42 as she felt his strong hands under her arms; for a moment her face brushed his and her fragrant43 breath was warm against his cheek. Philips lowered her gently, slowly, until her feet were on the ground, but even then his grasp lingered and he held her close to him.
They stood breast to breast for a moment and Pierce saw that in this woman's expression was neither fear nor resentment, but some strange emotion new-born of the night—an emotion which his act had started into life and which as yet she did not fully41 understand. Her eyes were wide and wondering; they remained fixed44 upon his, and that very fixity suggested a meaning so surprising, so significant, that he felt the world spin dizzily under him. She was astonished, yet expectant; she was stunned45 but ready. He experienced a fierce desire to hold her closer, closer, to crush her in his arms, and although she resisted faintly, unconsciously she yielded; her inner being answered his without reserve. She did not turn her face away when his came closer, even when his lips covered hers.
After a long moment she surrendered wholly, she snuggled closer and bowed her head upon his shoulder. Her cheek against his was very cold from the wind and Pierce discovered that it was wet with tears.
"It has been a long fight," she sighed, in a voice that he could scarcely hear. "I didn't know how tired I was."
Phillips groped for words, but he could find nothing to say, his ordered thoughts having fled before this sudden gust46 of ardor47 as leaves are whirled away before a tempest. All he knew was that in his arms lay a woman he had knelt to, a worshipful goddess of snow and gold before whom he had abased48 himself, but who had turned to flesh at his first touch.
He kissed her again and again, warmly, tenderly, and yet with a ruthless fervor49 that grew after each caress50, and she submitted passively, the while those tears stole down her cheeks. In reality she was neither passive nor passionless, for her body quivered and Phillips knew that his touch had set her afire; but rather she seemed to be exhausted51 and at the same time enthralled52 as by some dream from which she was loath53 to rouse herself.
After a while her hand rose to his face and stroked it softly, then she drew herself away from him and with a wan36 smile upon her lips said:
"The wind has made a fool of me."
"No, no!" he cried, forcefully. "You asked me what I think of you—Well, now you know."
Still smiling, she shook her head slowly, then she told him, "Come! I hear the rain."
"But I want to talk to you. I have so much to say—"
"What is there to talk about to-night? Hark!" They could feel, rather than hear, the first warnings of the coming downpour, so hand in hand they walked up the gravelly beach and into the fringe of the forest where glowed the dull illumination from lamplit canvas walls. When they paused before the Countess' tent Pierce once more enfolded her in his arms and sheltered her from the boisterous breath of the night. His emotions were in a similar tumult54, but as yet he could not voice them, he could merely stammer55:
"You have never told me your name."
"Hilda."
"May I—call you that?"
She nodded. "Yes—when we are alone. Hilda Halberg, that was my name."
"Hilda! Hilda—Phillips." Pierce tried the sound curiously56. The Countess drew back abruptly, with a shiver; then, in answer to his quick concern, said:
"I—I think I'm cold."
He undertook to clasp her closer, but she held him off, murmuring:
"Let it be Hilda Halberg for to-night. Let's not think of—Let's not think at all. Hilda—bride of the storm. There's a tempest in my blood, and who can think with a tempest raging?"
She raised her face and kissed him upon the lips, then, disengaging herself once more from his hungry arms, she stepped inside her shelter. The last he saw of her was her luminous smile framed against the black background; then she let the tent-fly fall.
As Phillips turned away big raindrops began to drum upon the near-by tent roofs, the spruce-tops overhead bent57 low, limbs threshed as the gusty58 night wind beat upon them. But he heard none of it, felt none of it, for in his ears rang the music of the spheres and on his face lingered the warmth of a woman's lips, the first love kiss that he had ever known.
Tom Linton roused himself from a chilly59 doze60 to find that the rain had come at last. It was a roaring night; his tent was bellied61 in by the force of the wind, and the raindrops beat upon it with the force of buckshot. Through the entrance slit62, through the open stovepipe hole, the gale63 poured, bringing dampness with it and rendering64 the interior as draughty as a corn-crib. Rolling himself more tightly in his blankets, Linton addressed the darkness through chattering65 teeth.
"Darned old fool! This'll teach him!" He strained his ears for sounds of Jerry, but could hear nothing above the slatting of wet canvas, the tattoo66 of drops, and the roar of wind in the tree-tops. After the first violence of the squall had passed he fancied he could hear his former partner stirring, so he arose and peered out into the night. At first he could see nothing, but in time he dimly made out Jerry struggling with his tarpaulin67. Evidently the fly had blown down, or up, and its owner was restretching it. Linton grinned. That would drench68 the old dodo to the skin and he'd soon be around, begging shelter.
"But I won't let him in, not if he drowns," Tom muttered, harshly. He recalled one of Jerry's gibes69 at the saw-pit, a particularly unfeeling, nay70, a downright venomous insult which had rankled71 steadily72 ever since. His former friend had seen fit to ridicule73 honest perspiration74 and to pretend to mistake it for raindrops. That remark had been utterly75 uncalled for and it had betrayed a wanton malice76, a malevolent77 desire to wound; well, here was a chance to even the score. When Jerry came dripping to the tent door, Tom decided he would poke12 his head out into the deluge78 and then cry in evident astonishment79: "Why, Jerry, you've been working, haven't you? You're all sweaty!" Mr. Linton giggled80 out loud. That would be a refinement81 of sarcasm82; that would be a get-back of the finest. If Jerry insisted upon coming in out of the wet he'd tell him gruffly to get out of there and try the lake for a change.
But Mr. Quirk83 made no move in the direction of the tent; instead he built a fire in his stove and crouched84 over it, endeavoring vainly to shelter himself from the driving rain. Linton watched him with mingled85 impatience86 and resentment. Would the old fool never get enough? Jerry was the most unreasonable87, the most tantalizing88 person in the world.
After a time Mr. Linton found that his teeth were chattering and that his frame had been smitten89 as by an ague; reluctantly he crept back into bed. He determined90 to buy, beg, borrow, or steal some more bedding on the morrow—early on the morrow in order to forestall91 Jerry. Jerry would have to find a tent somewhere, and inasmuch as there were none to be had here at Linderman, he would probably have to return to Dyea. That would delay him seriously—enough, perhaps, so that the jaws92 of winter would close down upon him. Through the drone of pattering drops there came the faint sound of a cough. Mr. Linton sat up in bed. "Pneumonia93!" he exclaimed. Well, Jerry was getting exactly what he deserved. He had called him, Tom, an "old fool," a "dam' old fool," to be precise. The epithet94 in itself meant nothing—it was in fact a fatuous95 and feeble term of abuse as compared to the opprobrious96 titles which he and Jerry were in the habit of exchanging—it was that abominable97 adjective which hurt. Jerry and he had called each other many names at times, they had exchanged numerous gibes and insults, but nothing like that hateful word "old" had ever passed between them until this fatal morning. Jerry Quirk himself was old, the oldest man in the world, perhaps, but Tom had exercised an admirable regard for his partner's feelings and had never cast it up to him. Thus had his consideration been repaid. However, the poor fellow's race was about run, for he couldn't stand cold or exposure. Why, a wet foot sent him to bed. How, then, could a rickety ruin of his antiquity98 withstand the ravages99 of pneumonia—galloping pneumonia, at that?
Linton reflected that common decency100 would demand that he wait over a day or two and help bury the old man—people would expect that much of him. He'd do it. He'd speak kindly101 of the departed; he'd even erect102 a cross and write an epitaph upon it—a kindly, lying epitaph extolling103 the dead man's virtues104, and omitting all mention of his faults.
Once more that hacking105 cough sounded, and the listener stirred uneasily. Jerry had some virtues—a few of the common, elemental sort—he was honest and he was brave, but, for that matter, so were most people. Yes, the old scoundrel had nerve enough. Linton recalled a certain day, long past, when he and Quirk had been sent out to round up some cattle-rustlers. Being the youngest deputies in the sheriff's office, the toughest jobs invariably fell to them. Those were the good, glad days, Tom reflected. Jerry had made a reputation on that trip and he had saved his companion's life—Linton flopped106 nervously107 in his bed at the memory. Why think of days dead and gone? Jerry was an altogether different man in those times. He neither criticized nor permitted others to criticize his team-mate, and, so far as that particular obligation went, Linton had repaid it with compound interest. If anything, the debt now lay on Jerry's side.
Tom tried to close the book of memory and to consider nothing whatever except the rankling108 present, but, now that his thoughts had begun to run backward, he could not head them off. He wished Jerry wouldn't cough; it was a distressing109 sound, and it disturbed his rest. Nevertheless, that hollow, hacking complaint continued and finally the listener arose, lit a lantern, put on a slicker and untied110 his tent flaps.
Jerry's stove was sizzling in the partial shelter of the canvas sheet; over it the owner crouched in an attitude of cheerless dejection.
"How you making out?" Tom inquired, gruffly. His voice was cold, his manner was both repellent and hostile.
"Who, me?" Jerry peered up from under his glistening111 sou'wester. "Oh,
I'm doin' fine!"
Linton remained silent, ill at ease; water drained off his coat; his lantern flared112 smokily in the wind. After a time he cleared his throat and inquired:
"Wet?"
"Naw!"
There was a long pause, then the visitor inquired: "Are you lying?"
"Unh-hunh!"
Again silence claimed both men until Tom broke out, irritably113: "Well, you aim to set here all night?"
"Sure! I ain't sleepy. I don't mind a little mist and I'm plenty warm." This cheerful assertion was belied114 by the miserable115 quaver in which it was voiced.
"Why don't you-er-run over to my tent?" Linton gasped and swallowed hard. The invitation was out, the damage was done. "There's lots of room."
Mr. Quirk spared his caller's further feelings by betraying no triumph whatever. Rather plaintively116 he declared: "I got ROOM enough here. It ain't exactly room I need." Again he coughed.
"Here! Get a move on you, quick," Linton ordered, forcefully. "The idea of you setting around hatching out a lungful of pneumonia bugs117! Git! I'll bring your bedding."
Mr. Quirk rose with alacrity118. "Say! Let's take my stove over to your tent and warm her up. I bet you're cold?"
"N-no! I'm comfortable enough." The speaker's teeth played an accompaniment to this mendacious119 denial. "Of course I'm not sweating any, but—I s'pose the stove would cheer things up, eh? Rotten night, ain't it?"
"Worst I ever saw. Rotten country, for that matter."
It was wet work moving Jerry's belongings122, but the transfer was finally effected, the stove was set up and a new fire started. This done, Tom brought forth a bottle of whisky.
"Here," said he, "take a snifter. It'll do you good."
Jerry eyed the bottle with frank astonishment before he exclaimed: "Why, I didn't know you was a drinkin' man. You been hidin' a secret vice123 from me?"
"No. And I'm not a drinking man. I brought it along for—you.
I—er—that cough of yours used to worry me, so—"
"Pshaw! I cough easy. You know that."
"You take a jolt124 and"—Linton flushed with embarrassment—"and I'll have one with you. I was lying just now; I'm colder 'n a frog's belly125."
"Happy days," said Quirk, as he tipped the bottle.
"A long life and a wicked one!" Linton drank in his turn. "Now then, get out of those cold compresses. Here's some dry underclothes—thick, too. We'll double up those henskin blankets—for to-night—and I'll keep the fire a-going. I'll cure that cough if I sweat you as white as a washwoman's thumb."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," Jerry declared, as he removed his sodden126 garments and hung them up. "You'll crawl right into bed with me and we'll have a good sleep. You're near dead."
But Linton was by no means reassured127; his tone was querulous when he cried: "Why didn't you come in before you caught cold? S'pose you get sick on me now? But you won't. I won't let you." In a panic of apprehension128 he dug out his half of the contents of the medicine-kit and began to paw through them. "Who got the cough syrup129, Jerry; you or me?" The speaker's voice broke miserably130.
Mr. Quirk laid a trembling hand upon his ex-partner's shoulder; his voice, too, was shaky when he said, "You're awful good to me, Tom."
The other shook off the grasp and undertook to read the labels on the bottles, but they had become unaccountably blurred131 and there was a painful lump in his throat. It seemed to him that Old Jerry's bare legs looked pitifully thin and spidery and that his bony knees had a rheumatic appearance.
"Hell! I treated you mighty132 mean," said he. "But I'most died when you—began to cough. I thought sure—" Tom choked and shook his gray head, then with the heel of his harsh palm he wiped a drop of moisture from his cheek. "Look at me—cryin'!" He tried to laugh and failed.
Jerry, likewise, struggled with his tears.
"You—you dam' old fool!" he cried, affectionately.
Linton smiled with delight. "Give it to me," he urged. "Lam into me,
Jerry. I deserve it. Gosh! I was lonesome!"
A half-hour later the two friends were lying side by side in their bed and the stove was glowing comfortably. They had ceased shivering. Old Jerry had "spooned" up close to old Tom and his bodily heat was grateful.
"She's a corker, ain't she?"
"I been thinking about trading you a half interest in my tent for a half interest in her."
"The trade's made." There was a moment of silence. "What d'you say we hook up together—sort of go pardners for a while? I got a long outfit134 and a short boat. I'll put 'em in against yours. I bet we'd get along all right. I'm onnery, but I got good points."
Mr. Linton smiled dreamily. "It's a go. I need a good partner."
"I'll buy a new fryin'-pan out of my money. Mine got split, somehow."
Jerry heaved a long sigh and snuggled closer; soon he began to snore. He snored in a low and confidential136 tone at first, but gradually the sound increased in volume and rose in pitch.
Linton listened to it with a thrill, and he assured himself that he had never heard music of such soul-satisfying sweetness as issued from the nostrils137 of his new partner.
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1
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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7
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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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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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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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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12
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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chameleon
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| n.变色龙，蜥蜴；善变之人 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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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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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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45
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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46
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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47
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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48
abased
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| 使谦卑( abase的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到羞耻； 使降低（地位、身份等）； 降下 | |
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49
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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50
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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51
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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52
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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53
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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54
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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55
stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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56
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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57
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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58
gusty
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| adj.起大风的 | |
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59
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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60
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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61
bellied
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| adj.有腹的，大肚子的 | |
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62
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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63
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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64
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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65
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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66
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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67
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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68
drench
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| v.使淋透，使湿透 | |
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69
gibes
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| vi.嘲笑，嘲弄（gibe的第三人称单数形式） | |
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70
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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71
rankled
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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73
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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74
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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75
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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76
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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77
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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78
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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79
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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80
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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82
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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83
quirk
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| n.奇事，巧合；古怪的举动 | |
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84
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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86
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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87
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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88
tantalizing
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| adj.逗人的；惹弄人的；撩人的；煽情的v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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89
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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90
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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91
forestall
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| vt.抢在…之前采取行动；预先阻止 | |
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92
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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93
pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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94
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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95
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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96
opprobrious
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| adj.可耻的，辱骂的 | |
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97
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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98
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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99
ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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100
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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101
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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102
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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103
extolling
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| v.赞美( extoll的现在分词 )；赞颂，赞扬，赞美( extol的现在分词 ) | |
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104
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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105
hacking
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| n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
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106
flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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107
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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108
rankling
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的现在分词 ) | |
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109
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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110
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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111
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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112
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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113
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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114
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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115
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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116
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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117
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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118
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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119
mendacious
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| adj.不真的，撒谎的 | |
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120
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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121
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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122
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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123
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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124
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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125
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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126
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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127
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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128
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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129
syrup
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| n.糖浆，糖水 | |
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130
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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131
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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132
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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133
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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134
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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135
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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137
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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