Railing was invited to luncheon8 at St. Gregory’s Vicarage. Canon Spratte, though making no more than a passing, facetious9 reference to the connection with Winnie, behaved very politely. He was friendly and even cordial. The girl knew that both he and Lady Sophia examined her lover critically, and though she thought herself detestable, she could not help watching him also, nervously10, in case he committed a solecism. But he was so frank, so natural, that everything he did gained a peculiar11 charm, and his good looks made Winnie love him each moment more devotedly12. She was curious to know her aunt’s opinion; but that the elderly lady took care neither by word nor manner to give, till she was asked outright13.
“My dear, if you love him, and your father approves, I don’t think there’s anything more to be said,” she smiled. “I suppose he’ll go into Parliament when you’re married, and I dare say it’s not a bad thing that he’s a Radical14. The Liberals want clever young men with good connections, and doubtless your father will be able to get him made something or other.”
“He wouldn’t consent to be made anything,” said Winnie, with scornful pride.
“After he’s been married a few years he’ll no doubt take anything he can get,” answered Lady Sophia, mildly.
“Ah, but you don’t understand, we don’t want to think of ourselves, we want to think of others.”
“Have you ever faced the fact that people will ask you to their parties, but won’t dream of asking him?”
“D’you think I should go anywhere without my husband?”
“I’m afraid you’ll be rather bored,” suggested Lady Sophia.
Winnie reflected over this for a moment; then, chasing away a frown of indecision from her face, glanced happily at her aunt.
“At all events, you’ll allow that he’s very handsome.”
“Certainly,” said Lady Sophia. “I have only one fault to find with him. Aren’t his legs a little short? I wonder if he can wear a frock-coat without looking stumpy.”
“Fortunately, he’s absolutely indifferent to what he wears,” laughed Winnie.
“Yes, I’ve noticed that; his clothes look as if they were bought ready-made. You must really take him to a good tailor.”
Canon Spratte would much have liked to inspect Mrs. Railing and her daughter, but feared to excite Winnie’s suspicion. He contented15 himself with urging Bertram to take her to Peckham; and when he made the suggestion, watched the youth keenly for signs of disinclination to produce his people. He saw nothing.
It never struck him that Railing could have so great an affection for his mother as to be indifferent to her defects.
“She’s done everything for me,” he told Winnie, when they were in the train, on their way to visit her. “My father died when I was a lad, and it’s only by her strength of will and sheer hard work that I’ve done anything at all.”
Winnie, overflowing17 with love for the handsome fellow, was prepared to look upon his mother with favourable18 eyes. Her imagination presented to her a Roman matron, toiling19 with silent patience to fit her son for a great work. There was something heroic in the thought of this unassuming person, educated in the hard school of poverty, preparing with inflexible20 courage the instrument for the regeneration of a people. She expected to find a powerful, stern woman whom, if it was impossible to love, she might at least admire. Winnie was sure that Mrs. Railing had a thousand interesting things to say about Bertram.
“I want to know what you were like when you were a boy,” she said, in her pretty, enthusiastic way. “I want her to tell me so much.”
He kissed her fingers, in the well-made gloves, and looked at her with happy pride.
“Do you care for me really?” he asked. “Sometimes I can’t believe it. It seems too good to be true.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I feel so insignificant21 and so contemptible22. I wish you knew how grateful I am to you for loving me.”
From the train they had a glimpse of the Thames glistening23 vaguely24 in the sunny mist. But they came soon to long rows of little grey houses, which displayed with callous25 effrontery26 the details of their poverty. In the grimy backyards clothes were hung out to dry on lines. Winnie, anxious to see only the more cheerful side of things, turned away to occupy herself entirely27 with Bertram’s dark comeliness28.
On reaching Peckham she looked for a cab, but her lover, to whom the idea of such luxury did not occur, set out to walk; and she, remembering that in future she must resist extravagance, dutifully followed.
“It’s only about a mile and a bit,” he said, stepping out briskly.
At first glance Winnie was not displeased29 with the bustle30 of the street. There was a welcome freshness in the air. The pavements were thronged31, the roadway noisy with the rumble32 of ’buses and the clatter33 of tradesmen’s carts; the shops were gay with all their crowded wares34. After the dull respectability of South Kensington, the vivacity35 and the busy, strenuous eagerness were very exhilarating. The girl felt herself more in touch with humanity, and the surrounding life made her blood tingle37 pleasantly. She felt a singular glow as she realized what a manifold excitement there was merely in living.
“I don’t think I should mind a house in the suburbs at all,” she said.
But at last, turning out of the main road, they came into a street which seemed interminable. There were little brick villas39 on either side in a long straight row; and each house, with its bow window, its prim40 door and slate41 roof, was exactly like its fellow. Each had a tiny plot of lawn in front of it, about four feet square. The sky was grey, for the fitful sun had vanished, and the wind blew bitterly. The street, empty and cheerless, seemed very dreary42. Winnie shuddered43 a little, feeling a sudden strange enmity towards the inhabitants of these dull places. She soon grew tired, for she was unused to walking, and asked whether they had still far to go.
“It’s only just round the corner,” he said.
They turned, and another long row of little houses appeared, differing not at all from the first; and the likeness44 between each of these made her dizzy.
The exhilaration which at first she had felt was fast vanishing under fatigue46, and the east wind, and the dull solitariness47. Finally they came to a tiny villa38, cheek by jowl with its neighbours, that appeared primmer48, more sordid49 and grossly matter-of-fact than them all. Yet the name, let into the fanlight above the door, in gold letters, was its only dissimilarity. It was called Balmoral. In the windows were cheap lace curtains.
“Here we are,” said Bertram, producing a latchkey.
He led her into a narrow passage, the floor of which was covered with malodorous linoleum50, and then into the parlour. It was a very small room, formal, notwithstanding Bertram’s books neatly51 arranged on shelves. There was a close smell as though it were rarely used and the windows seldom opened. A table took up most of the floor; it was hidden by a large red cloth, stamped with a black pattern, but Winnie guessed at once that its top was of deal and the legs elaborately carved in imitation mahogany. Against the wall was a piano, and all round a set of chairs covered with red velvet52. On each side of the fire-place were arm-chairs of the same sort. Winnie’s quick eye took in also the elaborate gilded53 clock with a shepherd kneeling to a shepherdess, under a glass case; and this was flanked by candlesticks to match similarly protected. The chimney-piece was swathed in pale green draperies. Opposite the looking-glass was a painting in oils of the brig Mary Ann, on which Thomas Railing had sailed many an adventurous54 journey; and next to this was a portrait of the seaman55 himself, no less wooden than the ship. He wore black broadcloth of a funereal56 type, and side-whiskers of great luxuriance.
“Mother,” cried Bertram, “mother!”
“Coming!”
It was a fat, good-natured voice, but even in that one word the cockney accent was aggressive and unmistakable. Mrs. Railing appeared, smoothing the sleeves of the Sunday dress which she had just put on. She was a short, stout57 woman, of an appearance politely termed comfortable; her red face, indistinct of feature, shone with good-humour and with soap, the odour of which proceeded from her with undue58 distinctness; her hair was excessively black. There was certainly nothing in her to remind one of Bertram’s sensitive, beautiful face. Smiling pleasantly, she shook hands with Winnie.
“Louie ’asn’t come in yet, Bertie,” she said, and the lacking aspirate sent a blush to Winnie’s cheek. “Fine day, isn’t it?” she added, by way of beginning the conversation.
Winnie agreed that it was, and Bertram suggested that they should have tea at once.
“It’s all ready,” said his mother.
She looked somewhat uncertainly at the bell, as though not sure whether it would be discreet59 to ring, and gave her son a questioning glance. Then, making up her mind, she pulled it.
The shrill60 sound was heard easily in the parlour, and Mrs. Railing remarked complacently61: “It ’as rung.”
But there was no other answer than the sound of voices in the kitchen.
“Is any one here?” asked Bertram.
“Mrs. Cooper popped in to see me, and she’s been ’elpin’ me get the tea ready.”
Bertram’s face darkened, and his mother turned to Winnie with an explanation.
“Bertie can’t abide62 Mrs. Cooper, somehow,” she said, in her voluble, good-tempered way. “You don’t know Mrs. Cooper, do you? She lives in Shepherd’s Bush. Such a nice woman, and a thorough lady!”
“Oh, yes,” said Winnie, politely.
“But Bertie can’t abide ’er. I don’t deny that she does take a little drop more than’s good for ’er; but she’s ’ad a rare lot of trouble.”
Bertram said nothing, and in an awkward pause they waited for the tea.
“I think I’d better go an’ see if anything ’as ’appened,” said Mrs. Railing. “We don’t generally ’ave tea in here, except when we ’ave company. And that girl of mine can’t be trusted to do anything unless I’m watchin’ of her all the time.”
But Railing rang the bell again impatiently. After a further sound of voices raised in acrimonious63 dispute, the door was opened about six inches, and the dishevelled head of a frowsy girl was thrust in.
“D’you want anything?”
“Do I want anything!” cried Mrs. Railing, indignantly, “I suppose you think I ring the bell for me ’ealth! I suppose I’ve got nothing better to do than to ring the bell all day long. Didn’t I tell you to bring the tea the moment that Bertie come in?”
“Well, I’m bringing it,” came from the head, crossly, and the door was closed with a bang.
“Oh, them girls!” said Mrs. Railing. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth, and that’s the truth. The number of girls I’ve ’ad—well, I couldn’t count ’em. They eat you out of ’ouse and ’ome, and they’re always grumbling64, and you ’ave to pay ’em five shillings now—they won’t come for less—and they’re not worth it. I ’ave to do all the work meself. And they’re that particular in their eating, I never see anything like it. They must ’ave the best of everything, just the same as we ’ave, if you please.”
Mrs. Railing’s red face grew redder still as she described the tribulations65 which attend the mistress of servants.
“She broke another plate to-day, Bertie,” she said. “I shall give ’er notice this week. If she stays ’ere much longer I shan’t ’ave a plate in the ’ouse.”
There was a knock at the door, with a clatter of cups, and Mrs. Railing opened it. A tall gaunt woman carefully brought in the tray with the tea things. She wore a bonnet66 and a shabby cloak, decorated with black beads67.
“Oh, you’ve not brought it yourself, Mrs. Cooper!” cried Mrs. Railing, hastily taking the tray from her. “Why didn’t you let the girl bring it? What’s she here for? And I pay ’er five shillings a week.”
“Oh, I thought she’d break something.”
Mrs. Cooper gave Winnie an inquisitive68 look and turned to go.
“Now you’re not going, Mrs. Cooper?”
“I know where I’m not wanted, Mrs. Railing,” replied the other, with a sour glance at Bertram.
“Now don’t say that, Mrs. Cooper. You don’t want ’er to go, Bertie, do you?”
“I should be pleased if you’d stay and have tea, Mrs. Cooper,” said Bertram, driven into a corner.
“I’ve ’ad ’im in me arms many a time when ’e was a baby,” said Mrs. Cooper, with a defiant69 glare at Bertram. “An’ I’ve bath’d ’im.”
Mrs. Railing stirred the tea, put milk in each cup, and poured out.
“I ’ope you won’t mind if it’s not very grand,” said she to Winnie, apologetically.
“Not the Queen of England could make a better cup of tea than you, Mrs. Railing,” replied Mrs. Cooper, sitting down with a certain aggressiveness.
“Well, I ’ave got a silver tea-pot,” said Mrs. Railing, smiling proudly. “Bertie and Louie gave it me only last week for me birthday.”
“I don’t know why you call it silver, when it’s not ’all-marked, Mrs. Railing,” she said.
“And I know it’s not that because I’ve looked.”
“It’s electro-plate, but we call it silver by courtesy,” laughed Bertram.
“I’m a woman as calls a spade a spade,” answered Mrs. Cooper, with sombre dignity.
The bread was cut with the best intentions, but it was thick and plastered with slabs71 of butter. The tea, by way of showing hospitality, was so strong that no amount of sugar could remove the bitterness.
“I say, what a beautiful cake!” cried Bertram.
“I made it with my own ’ands,” said Mrs. Railing, much gratified.
“There’s no one like mother for making cakes,” said Bertram, regaining72 his spirits, which had been damped by the appearance of Mrs. Cooper.
But this remark was taken by that lady as a deliberate slight to herself.
“You’ve got no cause to say that, Bertie,” she remarked, bitterly. “Many’s the cake you’ve eaten of my making in my ’ouse at Shepherd’s Bush. And they was quite good enough for you then.”
“You make excellent cakes too, Mrs. Cooper,” he answered.
“I take it very ’ard that you should treat me like this, Bertie,” she added, in a lachrymose74 way. “And you wouldn’t ’ave been alive to-day if it ’adn’t been for me.”
“No, that you wouldn’t, Bertie!” acknowledged his mother.
“I’ll tell you ’ow it was,” said Mrs. Cooper, turning to Winnie. “I just popped in ’ere to ’ave a little chat with Mrs. Railing, and there was Bertie in such a state—I never see anything like it. He ’ad convulsions and he was blue all over, and stiff. Oh, he was a sight, I can tell you. Well, ’e was only four months old and Mrs. Railing was in a rare state. You see, ’e was ’er first and she didn’t know what to do no more than a cat would. And I said: ‘It’s no good sending for the doctor, Mrs. Railing,’ I said, ‘he’ll be dead before the doctor comes. You put ’im in a ’ot bath,’ I said, ‘with a pinch of mustard in it.’ And it saved ’is little life.”
“I will say that for you, Mrs. Cooper, you do know what to do with babies,” said Mrs. Railing.
“And I take it very ’ard that ’e should call me a drunken old woman,” added Mrs. Cooper, putting a handkerchief to her eyes. “I’ve known you for thirty years, Mrs. Railing, and I ask you, ’ave you ever seen me with more than I can carry?”
“That I ’aven’t, Mrs. Cooper, and you mustn’t mind what Bertie says. He didn’t mean to speak sharply to you.”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Railing, and I never thought I should live to ’ear Bertie say such things to me. Last time I come ’ere, he said: ‘Don’t you come to my ’ouse again, Mrs. Cooper. You’re a drunken old woman.’ ”
The tears coursed down her cheeks and she blew her nose loudly.
“And I’ve ’ad ’im to stay in my ’ouse at Shepherd’s Bush over and over again. And I used to wash ’im meself, and comb his ’air, and I made a rare lot of ’im. I take it very ’ard that he should say I’m not to pop in and ’ave a chat with an old friend when I’m in the neighbourhood.”
Bertram looked at her anxiously, afraid to speak in case there was a scene. But this apparently75 was just what Mrs. Cooper wanted.
“I’ve ’ad a very ’ard life,” she said, with maudlin76 tears, “I’ve ’ad a lot of trouble with my ’usband, and I’ve brought up seven children—and brought them all up to earn their own living. And if I do take a little drop now and then it’s because I want it. And I don’t take gin like some people do.”
This was obviously a home thrust, for Mrs. Railing, with a gasp77, drew herself together like a war-horse panting for the fray78.
“I don’t know what you mean by that, Mrs. Cooper. But no one can call me a drunken old woman.”
“I know all about you, Mrs. Railing. And I know a great deal more than Bertie does, and if he wants to know I’ll tell him.”
Mrs. Railing turned so purple that it was quite alarming.
“Oh, you’re a wicked woman, Mrs. Cooper, and what your ’usband said to me only the week before last is quite true. Your ’usband ’ad something to put up with, I lay, and ’e’s told me over and over again what sort of a lady you are.”
“Now then, mother, for Heaven’s sake don’t quarrel with her now,” cried Bertram.
“And what did my ’usband say to you, Mrs. Railing?”
Winnie had watched them with increasing alarm, and now, growing terrified, as there seemed every prospect80 of a battle royal, stood up.
“Bertram, it’s time for me to go away.”
“I’ll take you to the station,” he said, pale with anger.
Winnie shook hands with Bertram’s mother, ruffled81 and hot; but pointedly82 ignored Mrs. Cooper. She walked past her as though no one was in the way.
When they were in the street Bertram turned to her with pleading eyes.
“I’m so sorry this has happened, darling. I had no idea that awful person would be here. My mother’s the best creature in the world, but she’s had a very hard time, and, like many women of that age, is inclined sometimes to drink a little more than is good for her. My sister and I are trying to get her to become a teetotaller. And Mrs. Cooper leads her on. I’ve told her never to come to the house, but my mother doesn’t like to hurt her feelings. She made that horrible scene just to spite me, because you were here.”
“It doesn’t much matter, does it?” said Winnie, very wearily. “I’m not going to marry your relations.”
“You’re not angry with me, dearest?”
“Not at all,” said Winnie, forcing a smile to her lips. “Please get me a cab; I’ll drive home.”
“It’s too far, dearest; you must go by train. A cab would cost you a fortune.”
“Well, what does it matter?” she answered, irritably. “I can afford to pay for it.”
“I’m afraid there won’t be one here. You see, it’s so out of the world.”
“Must I walk all the way along those dreary roads to the station?”
“It’s not far.”
They went in silence, both of them very unhappy, and Winnie angry as well, angry with herself and with all the world.
And when at length they came again to the High Street, the scene in Winnie’s eye had changed its hue83. The din36 of the traffic was insufferable to her ears, and the press of people, making it difficult to thread one’s way, irritated her insanely. In their faces she saw now only a stupid mediocrity; and the petty cares which occupied them stamped their features with commonness. The gay shops were become sordid and mean. Jewellers showed silver bangles and silver brooches, low-priced and tawdry, red and green glass which masqueraded impudently84 under the beautiful names of emerald and ruby85. Milliners offered the purchaser hats and bonnets86 in loud colours, imitating inexpensively what they thought the fashion of Paris. Other shops exposed the hideous87 details of commonplace existence, pots and pans, mangles88, crockery, brushes and brooms. All things which artists had touched with their fashioning fingers, carpets, and furniture, pictures and statuettes, were cheaply parodied89. Nowhere could be found restraint or modesty90, but everything was flaunting91 and pretentious92, gaudy93, cheap and vulgar.
Winnie bit her lip to prevent herself from speaking, but what she wished to say was this:
“How can you talk of ideals with these people who only want to make a show, whose needs are so ignoble94 and paltry95? Their very faces tell you how little they care for beauty, and grace, and virtue96.”
At the station Bertram asked uncertainly whether she would not like him to accompany her to South Kensington.
“Please not!” she answered. “I can get home quite well alone. Will you excess my ticket?”
They had come third class, but now she wished to be in a carriage by herself. He put her in when the train came, and wistfully leaned forward.
“Won’t you kiss me, dearest?”
Listlessly, with unsmiling mouth, she offered her lips. He kissed them, with eyes painfully yearning97; but she, for the moment the train still lingered, kept hers averted98.
“I’m so dreadfully tired,” she said by way of excuse.
Quickly the guard whistled, and the train steamed away. Winnie, thankful at last to be alone, huddled99 into the corner as though to hide herself. She burst out weeping, passionately100, hopelessly.
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1
disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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glistening
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vaguely
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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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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comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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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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41
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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42
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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43
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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44
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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45
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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46
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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solitariness
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| n.隐居；单独 | |
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primmer
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| adj.循规蹈矩的( prim的比较级 )；整洁的；（人）一本正经 | |
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49
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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50
linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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51
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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52
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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53
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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54
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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55
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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56
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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58
undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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62
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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63
acrimonious
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| adj.严厉的，辛辣的，刻毒的 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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71
slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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73
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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lachrymose
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| adj.好流泪的，引人落泪的；adv.眼泪地，哭泣地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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81
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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83
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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84
impudently
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85
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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86
bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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87
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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88
mangles
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| n.轧布机，轧板机，碾压机（mangle的复数形式）vt.乱砍（mangle的第三人称单数形式） | |
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89
parodied
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| v.滑稽地模仿，拙劣地模仿( parody的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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91
flaunting
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| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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92
pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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93
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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94
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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95
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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96
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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97
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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98
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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99
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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100
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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