He no longer wanted to ‘play’ now. He despised play. His unique wish was to work. It struck him as curious and delightful11 that he really enjoyed work. Work had indeed become play. He could not do enough work to satisfy his appetite. And after the work of the day, scorning all silly notions about exercise and relaxation12, he would spend the evening in his beautiful new attic13, copying designs, which he would sometimes rise early to finish. He thought he had conquered the gross body, and that it was of no account. Even the desolating14 failures which his copies invariably proved did not much discourage him; besides, one of them had impressed both Maggie and Clara. He copied with laborious15 ardour undiminished. And further, he masterfully appropriated Maggie’s ticket for the Free Library, pending3 the preliminaries to the possession of a ticket of his own, to procure16 a volume on architecture. From timidity, from a singular false shame, he kept this volume in the attic, like a crime; nobody knew what the volume was. Evidence of a strange trait in his character; a trait perhaps not defensible! He argued with himself that having told his father plainly that he wanted to be an architect, he need do nothing else aggressive for the present. He had agreed to the suggestion about business training, and he must be loyal to his agreement. He pointed17 out to himself how right his father was. At sixteen one could scarcely begin to be an architect; it was too soon; and a good business training would not be out of place in any career or profession.
He was so wrapped up in his days and his nights that he forgot to inquire why earthenware18 was made in just the Five Towns. He had grown too serious for trifles—and all in about a week! True, he was feeling the temporary excitement of the printing office, which was perhaps expressed boyishly by the printing staff; but he reckoned that his share of it was quite adult, frowningly superior, and in a strictly19 business sense justifiable20 and even proper.
Two.
Darius Clayhanger’s printing office was a fine example of the policy of makeshift which governed and still governs the commercial activity of the Five Towns. It consisted of the first floor of a nondescript building which stood at the bottom of the irregularly shaped yard behind the house and shop, and which formed the southern boundary of the Clayhanger premises22. The antique building had once been part of an old-fashioned pot-works, but that must have been in the eighteenth century. Kilns23 and chimneys of all ages, sizes, and tints24 rose behind it to prove that this part of the town was one of the old manufacturing quarters. The ground-floor of the building, entirely25 inaccessible26 from Clayhanger’s yard, had a separate entrance of its own in an alley27 that branched off from Woodisun Bank, ran parallel to Wedgwood Street, and stopped abruptly28 at the back gate of a saddler’s workshop. In the narrow entry you were like a creeping animal amid the undergrowth of a forest of chimneys, ovens, and high blank walls. This ground-floor had been a stable for many years; it was now, however, a baker’s storeroom. Once there had been an interior staircase leading from the ground-floor to the first-floor, but it had been suppressed in order to save floor space, and an exterior29 staircase constructed with its foot in Clayhanger’s yard. To meet the requirement of the staircase, one of the first-floor windows had been transformed into a door. Further, as the staircase came against one of the ground-floor windows, and as Clayhanger’s predecessor30 had objected to those alien windows overlooking his yard, and as numerous windows were anyhow unnecessary to a stable, all the ground-floor windows had been closed up with oddments of brick and tile, giving to the wall a very variegated31 and chequered appearance. Thus the ground-floor and the first-floor were absolutely divorced, the former having its entrance and light from the public alley, the latter from the private yard.
The first-floor had been a printing office for over seventy years. All the machinery32 in it had had to be manoeuvred up the rickety stairs, or put through one of the windows on either side of the window that had been turned into a door. When Darius Clayhanger, in his audacity33, decided34 to print by steam, many people imagined that he would at last be compelled to rent the ground-floor or to take other premises. But no! The elasticity35 of the makeshift policy was not yet fully stretched. Darius, in consultation36 with a jobbing builder, came happily to the conclusion that he could ‘manage,’ that he could ‘make things do,’ by adding to the top of his stairs a little landing for an engine-shed. This was done, and the engine and boiler37 perched in the air; the shaft38 of the engine went through the wall; the chimney-pipe of the boiler ran up straight to the level of the roof-ridge, and was stayed with pieces of wire. A new chimney had also been pierced in the middle of the roof, for the uses of a heating stove. The original chimneys had been allowed to fall into decay. Finally, a new large skylight added interest to the roof. In a general way, the building resembled a suit of clothes that had been worn, during four of the seven ages of man, by an untidy husband with a tidy and economical wife, and then given by the wife to a poor relation of a somewhat different figure to finish. All that could be said of it was that it survived and served.
But these considerations occurred to nobody.
Three.
Edwin, quite unaware40 that he was an instrument in the hands of his Auntie Clara’s Providence41, left the shop without due excuse and passed down the long blue-paved yard towards the printing office. He imagined that he was being drawn42 thither43 simply by his own curiosity—a curiosity, however, which he considered to be justifiable, and even laudable. The yard showed signs that the unusual had lately been happening there. Its brick pavement, in the narrow branch of it that led to the double gates in Woodisun Bank (those gates which said to the casual visitor, ‘No Admittance except on Business’), was muddy, littered, and damaged, as though a Juggernaut had passed that way. Ladders reclined against the walls. Moreover, one of the windows of the office had been taken out of its frame, leaving naught44 but an oblong aperture45. Through this aperture Edwin could see the busy, eager forms of his father, Big James, and Chawner. Through this aperture had been lifted, in parts and by the employment of every possible combination of lever and pulley, the printing machine which Darius Clayhanger had so successfully purchased in Manchester on the day of the free-and-easy at the Dragon.
At the top of the flight of steps two apprentices47, one nearly ‘out of his time,’ were ministering to the engine, which that morning did not happen to be running. The engine, giving glory to the entire establishment by virtue48 of the imposing49 word ‘steam’, was a crotchety and capricious thing, constant only in its tendency to break down. No more reliance could be placed on it than on a pampered50 donkey. Sometimes it would run, and sometimes it would not run, but nobody could safely prophesy51 its moods. Of the several machines it drove but one, the grand cylinder52, the last triumph of the ingenuity53 of man, and even that had to be started by hand before the engine would consent to work it. The staff hated the engine, except during those rare hours when one of its willing moods coincided with a pressure of business. Then, when the steam was sputtering54 and the smoke smoking and the piston55 throbbing56, and the leathern belt travelling round and round and the complete building a-tremble and a-clatter, and an attendant with clean hands was feeding the sheets at one end of the machine and another attendant with clean hands taking them off at the other, all at the rate of twenty copies per sixty seconds—then the staff loved the engine and meditated57 upon the wonders of their modern civilisation58. The engine had been known to do its five thousand in an afternoon, and its horse-power was only one.
Four.
Edwin could not keep out of the printing office. He went inconspicuously and, as it were, by accident up the stone steps, and disappeared into the interior. When you entered the office you were first of all impressed by the multiplicity of odours competing for your attention, the chief among them being those of ink, oil, and paraffin. Despite the fact that the door was open and one window gone, the smell and heat in the office on that warm morning were notable. Old sheets of the “Manchester Examiner” had been pinned over the skylight to keep out the sun, but, as these were torn and rent, the sun was not kept out. Nobody, however, seemed to suffer inconvenience. After the odours, the remarkable59 feature of the place was the quantity of machinery on its uneven60 floor. Timid employés had occasionally suggested to Darius that the floor might yield one day and add themselves and all the machinery to the baker’s stores below; but Darius knew that floors never did yield.
In the middle of the floor was a huge and heavy heating stove, whose pipe ran straight upwards61 to the visible roof. The mighty62 cylinder machine stood to the left hand. Behind was a small rough-and-ready binding63 department with a guillotine cutting machine, a cardboard-cutting machine, and a perforating machine, trifles by the side of the cylinder, but still each of them formidable masses of metal heavy enough to crush a horse; the cutting machines might have served to illustrate64 the French Revolution, and the perforating machine the Holy Inquisition.
Then there was what was called in the office the ‘old machine,’ a relic65 of Clayhanger’s predecessor, and at least eighty years old. It was one of those machines whose worn physiognomies, full of character, show at once that they have a history. In construction it carried solidity to an absurd degree. Its pillars were like the piles of a pier39. Once, in a historic rat-catching, a rat had got up one of them, and a piece of smouldering brown paper had done what a terrier could not do. The machine at one period of its career had been enlarged, and the neat seaming of the metal was an ecstasy66 to the eye of a good workman. Long ago, it was known, this machine had printed a Reform newspaper at Stockport. Now, after thus participating in the violent politics of an age heroic and unhappy, it had been put to printing small posters of auctions67 and tea-meetings. Its movement was double: first that of a handle to bring the bed under the platen, and second, a lever pulled over to make contact between the type and the paper. It still worked perfectly68. It was so solid, and it had been so honestly made, that it could never get out of order nor wear away. And, indeed, the conscientiousness69 and skill of artificers in the eighteenth century are still, through that resistless machine, producing their effect in the twentieth. But it needed a strong hand to bestir its smooth plum-coloured limbs of metal, and a speed of a hundred an hour meant gentle perspiration70. The machine was loved like an animal.
Near this honourable71 and lumbering72 survival stood pertly an Empire treadle-machine for printing envelopes and similar trifles. It was new, and full of natty73 little devices. It worked with the lightness of something unsubstantial. A child could actuate it, and it would print delicately a thousand envelopes an hour. This machine, with the latest purchase, which was away at the other end of the room near the large double-pointed case-rack, completed the tale of machines. That case-rack alone held fifty different founts of type, and there were other case-racks. The lead-rack was nearly as large, and beneath the lead-rack was a rack containing all those “furnitures” which help to hold a forme of type together without betraying themselves to the reader of the printed sheet. And under the furniture rack was the ‘random,’ full of galleys74. Then there was a table with a top of solid stone, upon which the formes were bolted up. And there was the ink-slab, another solidity, upon which the ink-rollers were inked. Rollers of various weightiness lay about, and large heavy cans, and many bottles, and metal galleys, and nameless fragments of metal. Everything contributed to the impression of immense ponderosity76 exceeding the imagination. The fancy of being pinned down by even the lightest of these constructions was excruciating. You moved about in narrow alleys75 among upstanding, unyielding metallic78 enormities, and you felt fragile and perilously79 soft.
Five.
The only unintimidating phenomena80 in the crowded place were the lye-brushes, the dusty job-files that hung from the great transverse beams, and the proof-sheets that were scattered81 about. These printed things showed to what extent Darius Clayhanger’s establishment was a channel through which the life of the town had somehow to pass. Auctions, meetings, concerts, sermons, improving lectures, miscellaneous entertainments, programmes, catalogues, deaths, births, marriages, specifications82, municipal notices, summonses, demands, receipts, subscription-lists, accounts, rate-forms, lists of voters, jury-lists, inaugurations84, closures, bill-heads, handbills, addresses, visiting-cards, society rules, bargain-sales, lost and found notices: traces of all these matters, and more, were to be found in that office; it was impregnated with the human interest; it was dusty with the human interest; its hot smell seemed to you to come off life itself, if the real sentiment and love of life were sufficiently in you. A grand, stuffy85, living, seething86 place, with all its metallic immobility!
Six.
Edwin sidled towards the centre of interest, the new machine, which, however, was not a new machine. Darius Clayhanger did not buy more new things than he could help. His delight was to ‘pick up’ articles that were supposed to be ‘as good as new’; occasionally he would even assert that an object bought second-hand87 was ‘better than new,’ because it had been ‘broken in,’ as if it were a horse. Nevertheless, the latest machine was, for a printing machine, nearly new: its age was four years only. It was a Demy Columbian Press, similar in conception and movement to the historic ‘old machine’ that had been through the Reform agitation88; but how much lighter89, how much handier, how much more ingenious and precise in the detail of its working! A beautiful edifice90, as it stood there, gazed on admiringly by the expert eyes of Darius, in his shirt-sleeves, Big James, in his royally flowing apron91, and Chawner, the journeyman compositor, who, with the two apprentices outside, completed the staff! Aided by no mechanic more skilled than a day-labourer, those men had got the machine piecemeal92 into the office, and had duly erected93 it. At that day a foreman had to be equal to anything.
The machine appeared so majestic94 there, so solid and immovable, that it might ever have existed where it then was. Who could credit that, less than a fortnight earlier, it had stood equally majestic, solid, and immovable in Manchester? There remained nothing to show how the miracle had been accomplished95, except a bandage of ropes round the lower pillars and some pulley-tackle hanging from one of the transverse beams exactly overhead. The situation of the machine in the workshop had been fixed96 partly by that beam above and partly by the run of the beams that supported the floor. The stout97 roof-beam enabled the artificers to handle the great masses by means of the tackle; and as for the floor-beams, Darius had so far listened to warnings as to take them into account.
Seven.
“Take another impress, James,” said Darius. And when he saw Edwin, instead of asking the youth what he was wasting his time there for, he good-humouredly added: “Just watch this, my lad.” Darius was pleased with himself, his men, and his acquisition. He was in one of his moods when he could charm; he was jolly, and he held up his chin. Two days before, so interested had he been in the Demy Columbian, he had actually gone through a bilious98 attack while scarcely noticing it! And now the whole complex operation had been brought to a triumphant99 conclusion.
Big James inserted the sheet of paper, with gentle and fine movements. The journeyman turned the handle, and the bed of the machine slid horizontally forward in frictionless100, stately silence. And then Big James seized the lever with his hairy arm bared to the elbow, and pulled it over. The delicate process was done with minute and level exactitude; adjusted to the thirty-second of an inch, the great masses of metal had brought the paper and the type together and separated them again. In another moment Big James drew out the sheet, and the three men inspected it, each leaning over it. A perfect impression!
“Well,” said Darius, glowing, “we’ve had a bit o’ luck in getting that up! Never had less trouble! Shows we can do better without those Foundry chaps than with ’em! James, ye can have a quart brought in, if ye’n a mind, but I won’t have them apprentices drinking! No, I won’t! Mrs Nixon’ll give ’em some nettle-beer if they fancy it.”
He was benignant. The inauguration83 of a new machine deserved solemn recognition, especially on a hot day. It was an event.
“An infant in arms could turn this here,” murmured the journeyman, toying with the handle that moved the bed. It was an exaggeration, but an excusable, poetical101 exaggeration.
Big James wiped his wrists on his apron.
Eight.
Then there was a queer sound of cracking somewhere, vague, faint, and yet formidable. Darius was standing77 between the machines and the dismantled102 window, his back to the latter. Big James and the journeyman rushed instinctively103 from the centre of the floor towards him. In a second the journeyman was on the window sill.
“Th’ floor!” the journeyman excitedly exclaimed.
Big James stood close to the wall.
“And what about th’ floor?” Darius challenged him obstinately105.
“Rubbish!” shouted Darius. But simultaneously107 he motioned to Edwin to move from the middle of the room, and Edwin obeyed. All four listened, with nerves stretched to the tightest. Darius was biting his lower lip with his upper teeth. His humour had swiftly changed to the savage108. Every warning that had been uttered for years past concerning that floor was remembered with startling distinctness. Every impatient reassurance109 offered by Darius for years past suddenly seemed fatuous110 and perverse111. How could any man in his senses expect the old floor to withstand such a terrific strain as that to which Darius had at last dared to subject it? The floor ought by rights to have given way years ago! His men ought to have declined to obey instructions that were obviously insane. These and similar thoughts visited the minds of Big James and the journeyman.
As for Edwin, his excitement was, on balance, pleasurable. In truth, he could not kill in his mind the hope that the floor would yield. The greatness of the resulting catastrophe112 fascinated him. He knew that he should be disappointed if the catastrophe did not occur. That it would mean ruinous damage to the extent of hundreds of pounds, and enormous worry, did not influence him. His reason did not influence him, nor his personal danger. He saw a large hook in the wall to which he could cling when the exquisite113 crash came, and pictured a welter of broken machinery and timber ten feet below him, and the immense pother that the affair would create in the town.
Nine.
Darius would not loose his belief in his floor. He hugged it in mute fury. He would not climb on to the window sill, nor tell Big James to do so, nor even Edwin. On the subject of the floor he was religious; he was above the appeal of the intelligence. He had always held passionately114 that the floor was immovable, and he always would. He had finally convinced himself of its omnipotent115 strength by the long process of assertion and reassertion. When a voice within him murmured that his belief in the floor had no scientific basis, he strangled the voice. So he remained, motionless, between the window and the machine.
No sound! No slightest sound! No tremor116 of the machine! But Darius’s breathing could be heard after a moment.
“And what next?” he defiantly119 asked, scowling120. “What’s amiss wi’ ye all?” He put his hands in his pockets. “Dun ye mean to tell me as—”
The younger apprentice46 entered from the engine-shed.
“Get back there!” rolled and thundered the voice of Big James. It was the first word he had spoken, and he did not speak it in frantic121, hysteric command, but with a terrible and convincing mildness. The phrase fell on the apprentice like a sandbag, and he vanished.
Darius said nothing. There was another cracking sound, louder, and unmistakably beneath the bed of the machine. And at the same instant a flake122 of grimy plaster detached itself from the opposite wall and dropped into pale dust on the floor. And still Darius religiously did not move, and Big James would not move. They might have been under a spell. The journeyman jumped down incautiously into the yard.
Ten.
And then Edwin, hardly knowing what he did, and certainly not knowing why he did it, walked quickly out on to the floor, seized the huge hook attached to the lower pulley of the tackle that hung from the roof-beam, pulled up the slack of the rope-bandage on the hind21 part of the machine, and stuck the hook into it, then walked quickly back. The hauling-rope of the tackle had been carried to the iron ring of a trap-door in the corner near Big James; this trap-door, once the outlet123 of the interior staircase from the ground floor, had been nailed down many years previously124. Big James dropped to his knees and tightened125 and knotted the rope. Another and much louder noise of cracking followed, the floor visibly yielded, and the hindpart of the machine visibly sank about a quarter of an inch. But no more. The tackle held. The strain was distributed between the beam above and the beam below, and equilibrium126 established.
“Out! Lad! Out!” cried Darius feebly, in the wreck127, not of his workshop, but of his religion. And Edwin fled down the steps, pushing the mystified apprentices before him, and followed by the men. In the yard the journeyman, entirely self-centred, was hopping128 about on one leg and cursing.
Eleven.
Darius, Big James, and Edwin stared in the morning sunshine at the aperture of the window and listened.
“Nay!” said Big James, after an eternity129. “He’s saved it! He’s saved th’ old shop! But by gum—by gum—”
Darius turned to Edwin, and tried to say something; and then Edwin saw his father’s face working into monstrous130 angular shapes, and saw the tears spurt131 out of his eyes, and was clutched convulsively in his father’s shirt-sleeved arms. He was very proud, very pleased, but he did not like this embrace; it made him feel ashamed. He thought how Clara would have sniggered about it and caricatured it afterwards, had she witnessed it. And although he had incontestably done something which was very wonderful and very heroic, and which proved in him the most extraordinary presence of mind, he could not honestly glorify132 himself in his own heart, because it appeared to him that he had acted exactly like an automaton133. He blankly marvelled134, and thought the situation agreeably thrilling, if somewhat awkward. His father let him go. Then all Edwin’s feelings gave place to an immense stupefaction at his father’s truly remarkable behaviour. What! His father emotional! He had to begin to revise again his settled views.
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1
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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8
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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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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10
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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12
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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desolating
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| 毁坏( desolate的现在分词 )； 极大地破坏； 使沮丧； 使痛苦 | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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kilns
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| n.窑( kiln的名词复数 )；烧窑工人 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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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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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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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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elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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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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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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apprentices
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| 学徒，徒弟( apprentice的名词复数 ) | |
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48
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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49
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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50
pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
prophesy
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| v.预言；预示 | |
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52
cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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53
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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54
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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55
piston
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| n.活塞 | |
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56
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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57
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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58
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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59
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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60
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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61
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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62
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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63
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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64
illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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65
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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66
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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67
auctions
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| n.拍卖，拍卖方式( auction的名词复数 ) | |
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68
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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69
conscientiousness
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| 责任心 | |
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70
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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71
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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72
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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73
natty
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| adj.整洁的，漂亮的 | |
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74
galleys
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| n.平底大船，战舰( galley的名词复数 )；（船上或航空器上的）厨房 | |
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75
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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76
ponderosity
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| n.沉重，笨重；有质性；可称性 | |
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77
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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79
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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80
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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81
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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82
specifications
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| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
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83
inauguration
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| n.开幕、就职典礼 | |
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84
inaugurations
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| n.就职( inauguration的名词复数 )；就职典礼；开始；开创 | |
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85
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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86
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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87
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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88
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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89
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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90
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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91
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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92
piecemeal
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| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
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93
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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94
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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95
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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96
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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98
bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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99
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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100
frictionless
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| adj.没有摩擦力的 | |
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101
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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102
dismantled
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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103
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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104
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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105
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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106
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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108
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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109
reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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110
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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111
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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112
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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113
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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114
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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115
omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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116
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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117
guffawed
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| v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
sneeringly
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| 嘲笑地，轻蔑地 | |
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119
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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120
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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121
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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122
flake
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| v.使成薄片；雪片般落下；n.薄片 | |
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123
outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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124
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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125
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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126
equilibrium
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| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
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127
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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128
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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129
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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130
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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131
spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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132
glorify
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| vt.颂扬，赞美，使增光，美化 | |
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133
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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134
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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