Then they moved southwards to Melton Mowbray, and hunted till the frost put an end to that sport. On the third night of the frost, as they were cutting for partners for a fresh rubber of bridge, Lord Crosland said: "I tell you what, Beauleigh, the sooner we get out of this weather the better. Let's be off to Monte Carlo, make up a pool, and try that system of yours."
"It's a very good idea," said Sir Tancred. "The only question is whether the English winter isn't good for Tinker. It's hardening, you know."
"Always Tinker," said Lord Crosland with a smile. "I tell you what, Nature ought to have made you a woman: what a splendid mother you'd have made!"
"I think she'd have found she'd made a pretty bad mistake," said Sir Tancred.
"Besides," said Lord Crosland, "the Admirable is as hard as a tenpenny nail as it is. I've never seen the little beggar tired yet; and I've seen him at the end of some hardish days."
"Well, we'll see," said Sir Tancred. "We're partners." And the game went on.
Next morning he asked Tinker if he would like to go to the south of France, or stay and be hardened. Tinker thought a while, made up his mind that his father would like to go to the South of France, and said, "I think I'm hard enough, sir,—to go on with. Besides,
"When the wind is in the East
It's neither fit for man nor beast.
In fact it shrivels me up. I should like some sunshine."
"Then we will go," said Sir Tancred.
Accordingly, the middle of the next week found them lodged7 at the Hôtel des Princes, Monte Carlo, enjoying the nourishing sunshine of the Riviera. At least Tinker was enjoying it; the demands of a system required his father and Lord Crosland to spend most of their day in the darker, though hardly cooler air of the Temple of Fortune. But the system went well, and they did not repine.
The first time he dined in the restaurant of the hotel, Sir Tancred was disagreeably surprised to see sitting at a neighbouring table his loathed8 uncle, Sir Everard Wigram. They had met now and again during the past nine years; but as such a meeting had always resulted in some severe wound to the Baronet's dignity, he shunned9 his nephew like the pest, and abused him from a distance. At the same table sat a charming, peach-complexioned English girl. After a careful scrutiny10 of her, Sir Tancred decided11 that she must be his cousin Claire, Sir Everard's eldest12 child, and admitted with a very grudging13 reluctance14 that even the rule that thorns do not produce grapes is proved by exceptions. The third person at their table was a handsome young man, with glossy15 black hair, a high-coloured, florid face, and a roving black eye. Sir Tancred's gaze rested on him with a malicious16 satisfaction; he knew all about Mr. Arthur Courtnay.
Presently Lord Crosland's eye fell on that table. "Hullo!" he said sharply. "How on earth comes that bounder Courtnay to be dining with the Wigrams?"
A few mornings later Sir Tancred, Tinker, and Lord Crosland were sitting in the gardens of the Temple of Fortune, and on a bench hard by sat Claire and Courtnay. He was bending over her, talking volubly, in a loverlike attitude, exceedingly offensive in so public a place. To Sir Tancred's shrewd eyes he seemed to be deliberately18 advertising19 their intimacy20. She was gazing dreamily before her with happy eyes, over the sea. Lord Crosland grew more and more fidgety; and at last he said hotly, "You ought to interfere21!"
"Not I!" said Sir Tancred. "I'm not going to interfere. I have enough to do to keep Tinker out of mischief22 without acting23 as dry-nurse to the children of Uncle Bumpkin."
"But hang it all, the man's a regular bad hat!" said Lord Crosland. "He was advised to resign from the Bridge Club, and I happen to know that he is actually wanted in London about a cheque."
"And in Paris, Berlin, Petersburg, Vienna, and Buda-Pesth. Men who speak French as well as he does always are," said Sir Tancred. "Which reminds me, Tinker, your accent is getting too good. The honest English tongue was never made to speak French like a Frenchman. Let up on it a little."
"Yes, sir," said Hildebrand Anne.
"But you ought to do something, don't you know?" said Lord Crosland. "The child's very pretty, and nice, and sweet, and all that. It would be no end of a shame if she came to grief with that bounder Courtnay."
"I won't stir a finger," said Sir Tancred firmly, "for two reasons. One, Bumpkin Wigram helped my stepmother spoil my early life; two, if this bounder Courtnay has got round Bumpkin words would be wasted. Bumpkin is as dense24 and as obstinate25 as any clodhopper who ever chawed bacon."
"But she's a pretty child and worth saving," said Lord Crosland. "What do you think, Tinker?"
"Well, come along; we have a hard day's work before us," said Sir Tancred; and the two of them rose and strolled off towards the Temple of Fortune.
They left Tinker sitting still and thoughtful, the prey28 of a case of conscience. He knew the story of his father's marriage, his separation from his wife by the action of Lady Beauleigh and Sir Everard. He had been trained to detest29 them, and to believe any revenge on them a mere30 act of justice. But his dead mother was but a shadowy figure to him, and this girl was very charming, and sweet, and kind, for he had had a long talk with her one evening, and she had shared a box of chocolates with him. Did those chocolates constitute the tie of bread and salt between them which his father had taught him was so binding31? He wished to help the girl, therefore he made up his mind that they did. With a sigh of satisfaction he rose, sauntered up to the absorbed lovers, and began to parade up and down before them. His nearness put something of a check on the eloquence32 of Mr. Arthur Courtnay, and every time Tinker's shadow fell on them he looked up and frowned.
At last he said, "Go away, my lad, and play somewhere else."
There is nothing so wounding as the truth, and Courtnay knew that he was weak about the hair; he never could bring himself to keep it properly cropped; it was so glossy. His florid face became quickly florider, and he cried, "You impudent34 young dog!"
"Do not speak to me until you've been introduced. You're always forcing your acquaintance upon someone, Roland Macassar," said Tinker.
It was again the wounding truth; and Courtnay sprang up and dashed for him. Tinker bolted round a group of shrubs36, Courtnay after him. Finding him unpleasantly quick on his feet Tinker bolted into the shrubs. Courtnay plunged37 after him right into a well-grown specimen38 of the flowering cactus39. It brought him up short. He began to swear, and though he could have sworn with equal fluency40 and infelicity in French, German, or Italian, in the depth of his genuine emotion he returned to the tongue of his boyhood, and swore in English. When he came out of the shrubs, adorned42 on one side of his face and both hands with neat little beads43 of blood, he found that Claire had risen from her seat, and was looking shocked, surprised, and worst of all, disgusted. He did not mend matters much by mixing his apologies with threats of vengeance44 on Tinker; but his temper, once out of control, was not easily curbed45. He made a most unfortunate impression on her; the beads of blood scarcely excited her pity at all.
Meanwhile Tinker had taken advantage of his pursuer's meeting with the cactus to leave the terrace swiftly. He went back to the Hôtel des Princes, and took out Blazer for a walk, and as he walked, his seraph-like face glowed with the pleasantest complacency. Blazer did not like Monte Carlo at all; for him there was no sport and little exercise in it; Tinker liked it very much. He had made many friends in it, and enjoyed many amusements, the chief a pleasant, perpetual war against the heavy, liveried guardians46 of the gambling48 rooms. It was his opinion that people came to Monte Carlo to gamble; it was the opinion of the Société des Bains de Mer de Monte Carlo that children ought not to be admitted to the tables. They asserted their opinion; and Tinker asserted his, with the result that his bolt into the Salles de Jeu and his difficult extrication49 from them by the brawny50, but liveried officials was fast becoming one of the events of the day. Sometimes Tinker would make his bolt from the outermost52 portal; sometimes, with the decorous air of one going to church, he would join the throng53 filing into the concert room, and bolt from the midst of it. The process of expulsion was always conducted with the greatest courtesy on either side; for his bolt had become an agreeable variety in the monotonous54 lives of the guardians; they never knew when or in what fashion it would come next.
Now he had another occupation, the shadowing of Mr. Arthur Courtnay. That florid Adonis never grew used to hearing a gentle voice singing softly:
"Get your hair cut! Get your hair cut!"
or,
"Oh, Tatcho! Oh, Tatcho!
Rejoice, ye bald and weary men!
You'll soon be regular hairy men!
Sing! Rejoice! Let your voices go!
Sprinkle some on your cranium!
What, ho! Tatcho!"
The poetry was vulgar; but long ago his insight into the heart of man had taught Tinker to attack the vulgar with the only weapon effective against them, vulgarity.
Sooner or later, whether he was walking, or sitting with Claire, those vulgar strains would be wafted55 to Mr. Arthur Courtnay's ears, and they injured his cause. They kept alive in the girl's mind an uneasy doubt whether her father was right in asserting Arthur Courtnay to be one of the nicest fellows he had ever met, a veritable gentleman of the old school, an opinion founded on the fact that Courtnay was the only man who had ever given two hours' close attention to his views on Protection.
But, for all this lurking56 doubt, Courtnay's influence over her was growing stronger and stronger. He was forever appealing to her pity by telling her of the hard and lonely life he had lived since his father, a poor gentleman of good family, had died in exile at Boulogne. Really, his father, a stout57 but impecunious58 horse-dealer of the name of Budgett, certainly in exile at Boulogne owing to a standing59 difference with the bankruptcy60 laws of his country, was alive still. But Arthur was very fond of himself, and once in the mood of self-pity, he could invent pathetic anecdote61 after pathetic anecdote of his privations which would have touched the heart of a hardened grandmother, much more of a susceptible62 girl. She fell into the way of calling him "King Arthur" to herself.
He devoted63 himself to winning her with an unrelaxing energy, for she had forty thousand pounds of her own.
But he cared very little for her, and sometimes he found his love-making hard work. She was not the type of girl whom he admired; her delicacy irritated him; he preferred what the poet has called "an armful of girl," buxom64 and hearty65. Often, therefore, when she had gone to bed, he would refresh himself by a vigorous flirtation66 with Madame Séraphine de Belle-Île, a brisk and vivacious67 young widow, who affected68 always gowns of a peculiarly vivid and searching scarlet. And this self-indulgence proved in the end the ruin of his fine scheme of establishing himself in life on a sound monetary69 basis.
Tinker was about to get into bed one evening, and found himself slow about it. His conscience was worrying him about some duty left undone70, and he could not remember what the duty was. Of a sudden his terrible omission71 flashed into his mind: in his patient application to the task of shadowing and annoying Mr. Arthur Courtnay he had forgotten his daily bolt into the gambling rooms. Reluctant, but firm, he slipped on his pumps and went downstairs. Four minutes later the feverish72 gamblers in the Salles de Jeu were gratified by the sight of a seraph-like child in blue silk pyjamas73 who flew gaily74 round the tables pursued by two stout and joyfully75 excited Southern Europeans in livery. The pursuit was lively, but short, for Tinker ran into the arms of a wily croupier who had slipped from his seat, and unexpectedly joined the chase. He was handed over to his pursuers and conducted from the rooms, amidst the plaudits of the gamblers. He bade good-night to his liveried friends on the threshold of the Casino, congratulating them on their increasing efficiency in "Le Sport," and warm, but happy with the sense of one more duty done, he strolled into the gardens to cool.
He was noiseless in his pumps, and coming quietly round a clump76 of shrubs, he caught Mr. Arthur Courtnay in the act of trying to kiss Madame de Belle-Île with a fervour only justified77 by the most romantic attachment78.
"Oh!" said Tinker reproachfully; and even more reproachfully he began to sing:
"Coupez vos cheveux! Coupez vos cheveux!"
With an execration79 which was by no means muttered, Mr. Arthur Courtnay sprang up. Tinker darted80 away, and Courtnay followed. They pelted81 through the gardens, Courtnay gaining; but as he passed a couple of gendarmes82 standing in front of the Casino, Tinker yelled: "Gare le voyou! Gare le voyou!" Instinctively83 the gendarmes flung themselves before Courtnay, and his impetus84 brought the three of them to the ground with some violence.
With one fleeting85 glance behind, Tinker scudded86 on to the hotel, and once safely in his room abandoned himself without restraint to convulsions of inextinguishable delight. When he recovered his habitual87 calm, he saw that Fortune had given him a weapon with which he might save his cousin.
Mr. Arthur Courtnay and the gendarmes picked themselves up; he made his explanations, and wisely compensated88 them for the bruises89 they had received in his fall. Then giving no more thought to Madame de Belle-Île, who sat awaiting him eagerly, he returned gloomily to his hotel, reflecting on the carelessness which had delivered him into the hands of an indefatigable90 imp35 of mischief. The upshot of his reflection was a resolve to press his wooing to an immediate91 conclusion. The next day and the day after, therefore, he redoubled his lamentations that the smallness of his means prevented him from going, as his natural honesty dictated92, straight to Claire's father, and asking for her hand, and protested that he dare not risk the loss of her, which would work irreparable havoc93 in his life. It was only another step to suggest that, once they were married, her father's strong liking94 for him would soon bring about their forgiveness. He pressed and pressed these points, pausing at times to declare the vastness of his affection for her, until at last, against her better judgment, and in spite of a lurking distrust of him, of which she could not rid herself, she yielded to his persistence95 and the overwhelming influence of his stronger personality, and consented to elope with him.
Two days later, as Tinker, Sir Tancred, and Lord Crosland were at déjeuner, Claire and Courtnay passed them on their way to the gardens.
"I shouldn't wonder if those two ran away together," said Lord Crosland; and his cheerful face fell gloomy.
"They have the air," said Sir Tancred coolly.
"Look here, you ought to interfere, don't you know? You ought, really," said Lord Crosland, who had fallen under the fascination96 of Claire's fresh charm.
"Why don't you?" said Sir Tancred.
"Well," said Lord Crosland uncomfortably, "I did go to Sir Everard, and tell him to keep an eye on Courtnay; and he as good as told me to go to—Jericho."
"Just like Bumpkin," said Sir Tancred contemptuously. "I'll bet you a fiver they bolt to-night—by the train des décavés."
"I don't want to bet about it," said Lord Crosland very gloomily.
Their talk made Tinker thoughtful. It would have been easy enough to settle the matter by revealing Courtnay's injudicious display of affection towards Madame de Belle-Île, but that was not Tinker's way. He had a passion for keeping things in his own hands, and a pretty eye for dramatic possibilities. Besides, he had taken a great dislike to Courtnay, and was eager to make his discomfiture97 signal.
At half-past four in the afternoon he knocked at the door of Madame de Belle-Île's suite98 of rooms, and her maid conducted so prominent a figure in Monte Carlo society straight to her mistress.
Madame de Belle-Île, having just changed from a bright scarlet costume into a brighter, was taking her afternoon tea before returning to the tables.
"Bonjour, Monsieur le Vaurien," she said with a bright smile. "Have you at last succeeded in gambling?"
"No; it would be no pleasure to me to gamble unless your bright eyes were shining on the table," said Tinker with a happy recollection of a compliment he had overheard.
"Farceur! Va!" said the lady with a pleased smile.
"I came to ask if you would like to sup with Mr. Courtnay to-night?" said the unscrupulous Tinker.
"Ah, le bel Artur!" cried the lady. "But with pleasure. Where?"
"Oh, in the restaurant of the hotel," said Tinker.
The lady's face fell a little; she would have preferred to sup in a less public place, one more suited to protestations of devotion.
"At about eleven?" she said.
"At half past," said Tinker. "And I think he'd like a note from you accepting—it—it would please him, I'm sure. He—he—could take it out, and look at it, you know." It was a little clumsy; but, though he had thought it out carefully, it was the best that he could do.
"You think so? What a lot we know about these things!" said Madame de Belle-Île with a pleased laugh; and she went forthwith to the écritoire, and in ten minutes composed the tenderest of billets-doux. Tinker received it from her with a very lively satisfaction, and after a few bonbons99, and a desultory100 chat with her, escorted her down to the Casino.
The rest of the day seemed very long to his impatience101, while to Claire, harassed102 by vague doubt and real dread103, it seemed exceedingly short. When the hour for action came, she braced104 herself, by an effort, to play her part; but it was with a sinking heart that she stole, thickly veiled, and bearing a small hand-bag, out of the hotel and down to the station. She was far too troubled to notice that she was followed by two guardian47 angels in the shape of a small boy and a brindled105 bull-terrier.
Courtnay met her on the top of the steps which lead down to the station; and when she found him in a most inharmonious mood of triumph, she began, even so early, to repent106 of her rashness. Then went down to the station as the train des décavés, the train of the stony-broke, steamed in; and they settled themselves in an empty first-class compartment107. Her heart seemed to sink to her shoes as she felt the train move. Then the door opened, and, hauling the panting Blazer by the scruff of his neck, Tinker tumbled into the carriage.
Claire gave a great gasp108 of relief: the sight of him gave her a faint hope of escape; his presence was a respite109. Tinker lifted Blazer on to the seat between him and Courtnay, crying cheerfully, "I thought I'd just missed you! I've got a note for you from Madame de Belle-Île, and I knew she'd never forgive me if I didn't give it to you!"
Courtnay's florid face had already lost a little colour at the mere intrusion of his inveterate110 persecutor111 that alone presaged112 disaster; at his words his eyes displayed a lively, but uncomfortable tendency to start out of his head. "I don't know what you mean!" he stuttered. "I don't know Madame de Belle-Île!"
"You don't know Madame de Belle-Île!" cried Tinker in well-affected amazement113 and surprise. "Why, only three nights ago I saw you trying to kiss her in the gardens!"
"It's a lie!" roared Courtnay.
For the moment, breathless with rage, Courtnay could find no words, and Claire, very pale, stared from one to the other with startled, searching eyes.
"At any rate, here's her letter," said Tinker stiffly, holding it out over Blazer's back.
Claire stooped swiftly forward and took the letter. "I am the person to read that letter," she said with a spirit Courtnay had never dreamed of in her. "It is my right!"
She tore it open, and had just time to read "Mon Artur adoré," when Courtnay, with a growl115 of rage, snatched it from her, and tore it into pieces, crying, "I will not have you victimised by this mischievous116 young dog! It's an absurd imposition! I claim your trust!"
But the doubt of him which had lurked117 always in the bottom of Claire's heart had sprung to sudden strength; she looked at him with eyes that were veritably chilling in their coldness, and, turning to Tinker, she said, "Is it true?"
"It is—on my honour," said Tinker.
There was a quivering movement in Claire's throat as she choked down a sob118: she rose, and walked down the carriage to the seat opposite Tinker, farthest from Courtnay. Slowly collecting his wits, Courtnay grew eloquent119 and ran through the whole gamut120 of the emotions proper to the occasion: honourable121 indignation, and passion so deep as to be ready to forgive even this heart-breaking distrust. She listened to him in silence with an unchanging face, her lips set thin, her sombre eyes gazing straight before her.
Suddenly despair seized Courtnay, and he gave the rein122 to the fury which he had been repressing with such difficulty. "At any rate, I'll be even with you, you young dog!" he cried savagely123. "I'm going to throw you out of the train!"
"Oh, no; you're not!" said Tinker pleasantly. "By the time you've thrown Blazer out there won't be enough of you left to throw me out."
Courtnay jumped up with a demonstrative hostility124; Tinker hissed125; with an angry snarl126 Blazer drew in his tongue and put out his teeth, and Courtnay sat down. For a while he was silent, seeking for an object to vent51 his rage on; they could hear him grinding his teeth. Then he burst out at Claire, taunting127, jeering128, and abusing.
"That's enough!" cried Tinker angrily. "Pstt! Pstt! At him, Blazer! At him!"
For a few seconds Courtnay tried fighting, but his upbringing in France had not fitted him to cope with a heavy bull-terrier. When the train ran into the station at Nice, he was out on the footboard, on the further side, yelling lustily.
"Come on quick, before there's a fuss!" cried Tinker, catching129 up Claire's handbag, and opening the door. They jumped down, Tinker whistled Blazer, and the three of them bustled130 along the platform.
"I thought of that! I've got one for you!" said Tinker; and before Courtnay had quite realised that the train had stopped, they were out of the station.
Tinker hurried his charge along the line of fiacres, and stopped at a victoria and pair.
"Holà, cocher!" he said. "From the Couronne d'Or? Wired for to drive a lady and a boy to Monte Carlo?"
"Oui, monsieur!" cried the driver, gaily cracking his whip.
They scrambled132 in; and the horses stepped out. Tinker knelt on the seat, looking back over the hood41. They were almost out of sight of the station when he fancied that he saw a hatless figure run out of it into the road. It might have been only fancy; they were so far off he could not trust his sight. Three minutes later he dropped down on the seat with a sigh of relief. "That's all right!" he said.
"Oh," said Claire, "how can I ever thank you? You've saved me—oh, what haven't you saved me from!"
"A bad hat—a regular bad hat," said Tinker gravely.
"You wonderful boy!" she cried, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Tinker wriggled133 uncomfortably. He often wished that there were not quite so many women in the world who insisted on embracing him.
"Well, you're a kind of cousin, you see," he said by way of defence.
After a while Claire cooled from her excitement to the cold understanding of her folly134. Then she grew, very naturally, bitterly unhappy, and to his horror Tinker heard the sound of a stifled135 sob.
"I think, if you'll excuse me," he said hurriedly, "I'll go to sleep." And, happily for his comfort, his pretence136 at slumber137 was soon a reality. It was no less a comfort to Claire: she had her cry out, and felt the better for it.
When the carriage drew up before the Hôtel des Princes, they found an excited group about the doorway138. Sir Everard Wigram was the centre of it, raging and lamenting139. He had missed his daughter, and with his usual good sense was taking all the world into his confidence. Lord Crosland and Sir Tancred stood on one side; and it is to be feared that Sir Tancred was enjoying exceedingly the distress140 of his enemy.
"Leave the bag to me! I'll give it to you to-morrow," whispered Tinker as the horses stopped. "Say we've been for a drive. I shan't split!"
As Claire stepped out of the carriage, her father rushed up to her, crying, "What does this mean? Where have you been? What have you been doing?"
"Oh," said Claire coolly, raising her voice that all the curious group might hear, "I've been for a drive with Cousin Hildebrand. I couldn't find you to tell you I was going." And taking out her purse, she stepped forward to pay the coachman.
Tinker, keeping the bag as low as he could, slipped through the group. Lord Crosland hurried after him, and caught him by the shoulder. "Where have you really been?" he said. "What happened? Where's Courtnay?"
"I've been for a drive with my cousin," said Tinker, looking up at him with eyes of a limpid141 frankness.
"Ah, let's see what you've got in that bag."
"Can't. It's locked," said Tinker shortly.
"Well, never mind. I owe you fifty pound," said Lord Crosland joyfully.
Tinker stopped short and his face grew very bright. "Do you?" he said. "I think I should like it in gold—a fiver at a time."
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1
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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4
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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5
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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6
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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7
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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8
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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9
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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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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12
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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27
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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28
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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29
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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30
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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31
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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32
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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33
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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34
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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35
imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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36
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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37
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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38
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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39
cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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40
fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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41
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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42
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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43
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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44
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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45
curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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47
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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48
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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49
extrication
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| n.解脱；救出，解脱 | |
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50
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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51
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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52
outermost
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| adj.最外面的，远离中心的 | |
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53
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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54
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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55
wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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58
impecunious
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| adj.不名一文的，贫穷的 | |
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59
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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60
bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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61
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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62
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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63
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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64
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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65
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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66
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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67
vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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68
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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69
monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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70
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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71
omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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72
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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73
pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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74
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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75
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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76
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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77
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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78
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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79
execration
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| n.诅咒，念咒，憎恶 | |
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80
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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81
pelted
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| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
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82
gendarmes
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| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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83
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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84
impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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85
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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86
scudded
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| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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88
compensated
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| 补偿，报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 )； 给（某人）赔偿（或赔款） | |
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89
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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90
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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91
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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92
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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93
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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94
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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95
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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96
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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97
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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98
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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99
bonbons
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| n.小糖果( bonbon的名词复数 ) | |
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100
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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101
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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102
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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103
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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104
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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105
brindled
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| adj.有斑纹的 | |
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106
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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107
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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108
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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109
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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110
inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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111
persecutor
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| n. 迫害者 | |
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112
presaged
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| v.预示，预兆( presage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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114
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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115
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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116
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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117
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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118
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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119
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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120
gamut
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| n.全音阶，(一领域的)全部知识 | |
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121
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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122
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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123
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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124
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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125
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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126
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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127
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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128
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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129
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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130
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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131
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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132
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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133
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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134
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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135
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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136
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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137
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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138
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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139
lamenting
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| adj.悲伤的，悲哀的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
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140
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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141
limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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