Rachel stood at her own front door and took off her glove in order more easily to manipulate the latch-key, which somehow, since coming into frequent use again, had never been the same manageable latch-key, but a cantankerous1 old thing, though still very bright. She opened the door quietly, and stepped inside quietly, lest by chance she might disturb Louis, the invalid—but also because she was a little afraid.
The most contradictory2 feelings can exist together in the mind. After the desolate3 discomfort4 of Julian Maldon's lodging5 and the spectacle of his clumsiness in the important affair of mere6 living, Rachel was conscious of a deep and proud happiness as she re-entered the efficient, cosy7, and gracious organism of her own home. But simultaneously8 with this feeling of happiness she had a dreadful general apprehension9 that the organism might soon be destroyed, and a particular apprehension concerning her next interview with Louis, for at the next interview she would be under the necessity of telling him about her transaction with Julian. She had been absolutely determined10 upon that transaction. She had said to herself, "Whatever happens, I shall take that money to Julian and insist on his keeping all of it." She had, in fact, been very brave—indeed, audacious. Now the consequences were imminent11, and they frightened her; she was less brave now. One awkward detail of the immediate12 future was that to tell Louis would be to reopen the entire question of the theft, which she had several times in the most abrupt13 and arrogant14 manner refused to discuss with him.
As soon as she had closed the front door she perceived that twilight15 was already obscuring the interior of the house. But she could plainly see that the parlour door was about two inches ajar, exactly as she had left it a couple of hours earlier. Probably Louis had not stirred. She listened vainly for a sign of life from him. Probably he was reading, for on rare occasions when he read a novel he would stick to the book with surprising pertinacity16. At any rate, he would be too lofty to give any sign that he had heard her return. Under less sinister17 circumstances he might have yelled gaily18: "I say, Rache!" for in a teasing mood he would sometimes prefer "Rache" to "Louise."
Rachel from the lobby could see the fire bright in the kitchen, and a trayful of things on the kitchen table ready to be brought into the parlour for high tea.
Mrs. Tams was out. It was not among Mrs. Tams's regular privileges to be out in the afternoon. But this was Easter Saturday—rather a special day—and, further, one of her daughters had gone away for Easter and left a child with one of her daughters-in-law, and Mrs. Tams had desired to witness some of the dealings of her daughter-in-law with her grandchild. Not without just pride had Mrs. Tams related the present circumstances to Rachel. In Mrs. Tams's young maturity19 parents who managed a day excursion to Blackpool in the year did well, and those who went away for four or five days at Knype Wakes in August were princes and plutocrats. But nowadays even a daughter of Mrs. Tams, not satisfied with a week at Knype Wakes, could take a week-end at Easter just like great folk such as Louis. Which proved that the community at large, or Mrs. Tams's family, had famously got up in the world. Rachel recalled Louis' suggestion, more than a week earlier, of a trip to Llandudno. The very planet itself had aged20 since then.
She looked at the clock. In twenty minutes Mrs. Tams would be back. She and Louis were alone together in the house. She might go straight into the parlour, and say, in as indifferent and ordinary a voice as she could assume: "I've just been over to Julian Maldon's to give him that money—all of it, you know," and thus get the affair finished before Mrs. Tams's reappearance. Louis was within a few feet of her, hidden only by the door which a push would cause to swing!... Yes, but she could not persuade herself to push the door! The door seemed to be protected from her hand by a mysterious spell which she dared not break. She was, indeed, overwhelmed by the simple but tremendous fact that Louis and herself were alone together in the darkening house. She decided21, pretending to be quite calm: "I'll just run upstairs and take my things off first. There's no use in my seeming to be in a hurry."
In the bedroom she arranged her toilet for the evening, and established order in every corner of the chamber22. Under the washstand lay the long row of Louis' boots and shoes, each pair in stretchers. She suddenly contrasted Julian's heavy and arrogant dowdiness23 with the nice dandyism of Louis. She could not help thinking that Julian would be a terrible person to live with. This was the first thought favourable24 to Louis which had flitted through her mind for a long time. She dismissed it. Nothing in another man could be as terrible to live with as the defects of Louis. She set herself—she was obliged to set herself—high above Louis. The souvenir of the admiration25 of old Batchgrew and John's Ernest, the touching26 humility27 before her of Julian Maldon, once more inflated28 her self-esteem29—it could not possibly have failed to do so. She knew that she was an extraordinary woman, and a prize.
Invigorated and reassured30 by these reflections, she descended31 proudly to the ground floor. And then, hesitating at the entrance to the parlour, she went into the kitchen and poked32 the fire. As the fire was in excellent condition there was no reason for this act except her diffidence at the prospect33 of an encounter with Louis. At last, having examined the tea-tray and invented other delays, she tightened34 her nerves and passed into the parlour to meet the man who seemed to be waiting for her like the danger of a catastrophe35. He was not there. The parlour was empty. His book was lying on the Chesterfield.
She felt relieved. It was perhaps not very wise for him to have gone out for a walk, but if he chose to run risks, he was free to do so, for all she cared. In the meantime the interview was postponed36; hence her craven relief. She lit the gas, but not by the same device as in Mrs. Maldon's day; and then she saw an envelope lying on the table. It was addressed in Louis' handwriting to "Mrs. Louis Fores." She was alone in the house. She felt sick. Why should he write a letter to her and leave it there on the table? She invented half a dozen harmless reasons for the letter, but none of them was the least convincing. The mere aspect of the letter frightened her horribly. There was no strength in her limbs. She tore the envelope in a daze37.
The letter ran—
Dear Rachel,—I have decided to leave England. I do not know
how long I shall be away. I cannot and will not stand the life
satisfactory explanation to give you, but you have most rudely
refused to listen to it. So now I shall not give it. I shall
write you as to my plans. I shall send you whatever money is
necessary for you. By the way, I put four hundred and fifty
pounds away in my private drawer. On looking for it this
afternoon I see that you have taken it, without saying a word
to me. You must account to me for this money. When you have
done so we will settle how much I am to send you. In the
meantime you can draw from it for necessary expenses.
Yours,
L.F.
II
Rachel stared at the letter. It was the first letter she had seen written on the new note-paper, embossed with the address, "Bycars, Bursley." Louis would not have "Bycars Lane" on the note-paper, because "Bycars" alone was more vague and impressive; distant strangers might take it to be the name of a magnificent property. Her lips curled. She violently ripped the paper to bits and stuck them in the fire; a few fragments escaped and fluttered like snow on to the fender. She screwed up the envelope and flung it after the letter. Her face smarted and tingled39 as the blood rushed passionately40 to her head.
She thought, aghast: "Everything is over! He will never come back. He will never have enough moral force to come back. We haven't been married two months, and everything is over! And this is Easter Saturday! He wanted us to be at Llandudno or somewhere for Easter, and I shouldn't be at all surprised if he's gone there. Yes, he would be capable of that. And if it wasn't for the plaster on his face, he'd be capable of gallivanting on Llandudno pier42 this very night!"
She had no illusion as to him. She saw him as objectively as a god might have seen him.
And then she thought with fury: "Oh, what a fool I've been! What a little fool! Why didn't I listen to him? Why didn't I foresee?... No, I've not been a fool! I've not! I've not! What did I do wrong? Nothing! I couldn't have borne his explanations!... Explanations, indeed! I can imagine his explanations! Did he expect me to smile and kiss him after he'd told me he was a thief?"
And then she thought, in reference to his desertion: "It's not true! It can't be true!"
She wanted to read the letter again, so that perhaps she might read something into it that was hopeful. But to read it again was impossible. She tried to recall its exact terms, and could not. She could only remember with certainty that the final words were "Yours, L.F." Nevertheless, she knew that the thing was true; she knew by the weight within her breast and the horrible nausea43 that almost overcame her self-control.
She whispered, alone in the room—
"Yes, it's true! And it's happened to me!... He's gone!"
And not the ruin of her life, but the scandal of the affair, was the first matter that occupied her mind. She was too shaken yet to feel the full disaster. Her mind ran on little things. And just as once she had pictured herself self-conscious in the streets of Bursley as a young widow, so now she pictured herself in the far more appalling44 role of deserted45 wife. The scandal would be enormous. Nothing—no carefully invented fiction—would suffice to stifle47 it. She would never dare to show her face. She would be compelled to leave the district. And supposing a child came! Fears stabbed her. She felt tragically48 helpless as she stood there, facing a vision of future terrors. She had legal rights, of course. Her common sense told her that. She remembered also that she possessed49 a father and a brother in America. But no legal rights and no relatives would avail against the mere simple, negligent50 irresponsibility of Louis. In the end, she would have to rely on herself. All at once she recollected51 that she had promised to see after Julian's curtains.
She had almost no money. And how could the admiration of three men other than her husband (so enheartening a few minutes earlier) serve her in the crisis? No amount of masculine admiration could mitigate52 the crudity53 of the fact that she had almost no money. Louis' illness had interrupted the normal course of domestic finance—if, indeed, a course could be called normal which had scarcely begun. Louis had not been to the works. Hence he had received no salary. And how much salary was due to him, and whether he was paid weekly or monthly, she knew not. Neither did she know whether his inheritance actually had been paid over to him by Thomas Batchgrew.
What she knew was that she had received no house-keeping allowance for more than a week, and that her recent payments to tradesmen had been made from a very small remaining supply of her own prenuptial money. Economically she was as dependent on Louis as a dog, and not more so; she had the dog's right to go forth54 and pick up a living.... Of course Louis would send her money. Louis was a gentleman—he was not a cad. Yes, but he was a very careless gentleman. She was once again filled with the bitter realization55 of his extreme irresponsibility.
She heard a noise in the back lobby, and started. It was Mrs. Tams, returned. Mrs. Tams had a key of her own, of which she was proud—an affair of about four inches in length and weighing over a quarter of a pound. It fitted the scullery door, and was, indeed, the very key with which Rachel had embroidered56 her lie to Thomas Batchgrew on the day after the robbery. Mrs. Tams always took pleasure in entering the house from the rear, without a sound. She was now coming into the parlour with the tray for high tea. No wonder that Rachel started. Here was the first onset57 of the outer world.
Mrs. Tams came in, already perfectly transformed from a mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother into a parlour-maid with no human tie.
"Good-afternoon, Mrs. Tams."
"So ye've got back, ma'am!"
While Mrs. Tams laid the table, with many grunts58 and creakings of the solid iron in her stays, Rachel sat on a chair by the fire, trying to seem in a casual, dreamy mood, cogitating59 upon what she must say.
"Will mester be down for tea, ma'am?" asked Mrs. Tams, who had excusably assumed that Louis was upstairs.
"Oh! By the way, I was forgetting; Mr. Fores will not be in for tea."
"Not be in for tea, ma'am? And him as he is!" All her lately gathering62 suspicions were strengthened and multiplied.
Rachel had to continue as she had begun: "He's been called away on very urgent business. He simply had to go."
Mrs. Tams, intermitting her duties, stood still and gazed at Rachel.
"Was it far, ma'am, as he had for to go?"
"Yes—rather."
"I suppose he'll be back to-night, ma'am?"
"Oh yes, of course!" replied Rachel, in absurd haste. "But if he isn't, I'm not to worry, he said. But he fully46 expects to be. We scarcely had time to talk, you see. He was getting ready when I came in."
"A telegram, ma'am, I suppose it was?"
"Yes.... That is, I don't know whether there was a telegram first, or not. But he was called for, you see. A cab. I couldn't have let him go off walking, not as he is."
"I suppose I mun alter this 'ere table, then," said she, putting a cup and saucer back on the tray.
"Idiot! Idiot!" Rachel described herself to herself, when Mrs. Tams, very much troubled, had left the room. "'By the way, I was forgetting'—couldn't I have told her better than that? She's known for a week that there's been something wrong, and now she's certainly guessed there's something dreadfully wrong.... Just look at all the silly lies I've told already! What will it be like to-morrow—and Monday? I wonder what my face looked like while I was telling her!"
She rushed upstairs to discover what luggage Louis had taken with him. But apparently65 he had taken nothing whatever. The trunk, the valise, and the various bags were all stacked in the empty attic66, exactly as she had placed them. He must have gone off in a moment, without any reflection or preparation.
"By the way, Mrs. Tams," she began again, "did you happen to tell Mr. Fores where I'd gone this afternoon?... You see, we'd no opportunity to discuss anything," she added, striving once more after verisimilitude.
"Yes'm. I told him when I took him his early cup o' tea."
"Did he ask you?"
"Now ye puzzle me, ma'am! I couldn't swear to it to save my life. But I told him."
"What did he say?" Rachel tried to smile.
"He didna say aught."
Rachel remained alone, to objurgate Rachel. It was indeed only too obvious from Mrs. Tams's constrained69 and fussy70 demeanour that the old woman had divined the existence of serious trouble in the Fores household.
III
Some time after the empty ceremony of tea, Rachel sat in state in the parlour, dignified71, self-controlled, pretending to sew, as she had pretended to eat and drink and, afterwards, to have an important enterprise of classifying and rearranging her possessions in the wardrobe upstairs. Let Mrs. Tams enter ever so unexpectedly, Rachel was a fit spectacle for her, with a new work-basket by her side on the table, and her feet primly72 on a footstool, quite in the style of the late Mrs. Maldon, and a serious and sagacious look on her face that the fire and the gas combined to illuminate73. She did not actually sew, but the threaded needle was ready in her hand to move convincingly at a second's notice, for Mrs. Tams was of a restless and inquisitive74 disposition75 that night.
Apparently secure between the drawn76 blinds, the fire, the Chesterfield, and the sideboard, Rachel was nevertheless ranging wide among vast, desolate tracts77 of experience, and she was making singular discoveries. For example, it was not until she was alone in the parlour after tea that she discovered that during the whole of her interview with Julian Maldon in the afternoon she had never regarded him as a thief. And yet he was a thief—just as much as Louis! She had simply forgotten that he was a thief. He did not seem to be any the worse for being a thief. If he had shown the desire to explain to her by word of mouth the entire psychology78 of his theft, she would have listened with patience and sympathy; she would have encouraged him to rectitude. And yet Julian had no claim on her; he was not her husband; she did not love him. But because Louis was her husband, and had a claim on her, and had received all the proofs of her affection—therefore, she must be merciless for Louis! She perceived the inconsistency; she perceived it with painful clearness. She had the impartial79 logic80 of the self-accuser. At intervals81 the self-accuser was flagellated and put to flight by passionate41 reaction, but only to return stealthily and irresistibly82....
She had been wrong to take the four hundred and fifty pounds without a word. True, Louis had somewhat casually83 authorized84 her to return half of the sum to Julian, but the half was not the whole. And in any case she ought to have told Louis of her project. There could be no doubt that, immediately upon Mrs. Tams's going out, Louis had looked for the four hundred and fifty pounds, and, in swift resentment85 at its disappearance86, had determined to disappear also. He had been stung and stung again, past bearing (she argued) daily and hourly throughout the week, and the disappearance of the money had put an end to his patience. Such was the upshot, and she had brought it about!
She had imagined that she was waiting for destiny, but in fact she had been making destiny all the time, with her steely glances at Louis and her acrid87, uncompromising tongue!... And did those other men really admire her? How, for instance, could Thomas Batchgrew admire her, seeing that he had suspected her of lies and concealment88 about the robbery? If it was on account of supposed lies and concealment that he admired her, then she rejected Thomas Batchgrew's admiration....
The self-accuser and the self-depreciator in her grew so strong that Louis' conduct soon became unexceptionable—save for a minor89 point concerning a theft of some five hundred pounds odd from an old lady. And as for herself, she, Rachel, was an over-righteous prig, an interfering90 person, a blundering fool of a woman, a cruel-hearted creature. And Louis was just a poor, polite martyr91 who had had the misfortune to pick up certain bank-notes that were not his.
Then the tide of judgment92 would sweep back, and Rachel was the innocent, righteous martyr again, and Louis the villain93. But not for long.
She cried passionately within her brain: "I must have him. I must get hold of him. I must!"
But when the brief fury of longing94 was exhausted95 she would ask: "How can I get hold of him? Where is he?" Then more forcibly: "What am I to do first? Yes, what ought I to do? What is wisest? He little guesses that he is killing96 me. If he had guessed, he wouldn't have done it. But nothing will kill me! I am as strong as a horse. I shall live for ages. There's the worst of it all!... And it's no use asking what I ought to do, either, because nothing, nothing, nothing would induce me to run after him, even if I knew where to run to! I would die first. I would live for a hundred years in torture first. That's positive."
The hands of the clock, instead of moving slowly, seemed to progress at a prodigious97 rate. Mrs. Tams came in—
"Shall I lay mester's supper, ma'am?"
The idea of laying supper for the master had naturally not occurred to Rachel.
"Yes, please."
When the supper was laid upon one half of the table, the sight of it almost persuaded Rachel that Louis would be bound to come—as though the waiting supper must mysteriously magnetize him out of the world beyond into the intimacy98 of the parlour.
And she thought, as she strove for the hundredth time to recall the phrases of the letter—
"'Perfectly satisfactory explanation!' suppose he has got a perfectly satisfactory explanation! He must have. He must have. If only he has, everything would be all right. I'd apologize. I'd almost go on my knees to him.... And he was so ill all the time, too!... But he's gone. It's too late now for the explanation. Still, as soon as I hear from him, I shall write and ask him for it."
And in her mind she began to compose a wondrous99 letter to him—a letter that should preserve her own dignity while salving his, a letter that should overwhelm him with esteem for her.
She rang the bell. "Don't sit up, Mrs. Tams."
And when she had satisfied herself that Mrs. Tams with unwilling100 obedience101 had retired102 upstairs, she began to walk madly about the parlour (which had an appearance at once very strange and distressingly103 familiar), and to whisper plaintively104, and raging, and plaintively again: "I must get him back. I cannot bear this. It is too much for me. I must get him back. It's all my fault!" and then dropped on the Chesterfield in a collapse105, moaning: "No. It's no use now."
And then she fancied that she heard the gate creak, and a latch-key fumbling106 into the keyhole of the front door. And one part of her brain said on behalf of the rest: "I am mad. I am delirious107."
It was a fact that Louis had caused to be manufactured for his own use a new latch-key. But it was impossible that this latch-key should now be in the keyhole. She was delirious. And then she unmistakably heard the front door open. Her heart jumped with the most afflicting108 violence. She was ready to fall on to the carpet, but seemed to be suspended in the air. When she recognized Louis' footsteps in the lobby tears burst from her eyes in an impetuous torrent109.
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1
cantankerous
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| adj.爱争吵的，脾气不好的 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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3
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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5
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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6
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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7
cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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8
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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9
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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10
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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12
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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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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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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dowdiness
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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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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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touching
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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reassured
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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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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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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daze
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| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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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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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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negligent
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| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
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51
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
mitigate
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| vt.（使）减轻，（使）缓和 | |
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crudity
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| n.粗糙，生硬；adj.粗略的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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onset
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| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
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grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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cogitating
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| v.认真思考，深思熟虑( cogitate的现在分词 ) | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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plausibly
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| 似真地 | |
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tarns
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| n.冰斗湖，山中小湖( tarn的名词复数 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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illuminate
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| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
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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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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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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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tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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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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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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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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99
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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100
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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101
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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102
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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103
distressingly
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| adv. 令人苦恼地；悲惨地 | |
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104
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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105
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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106
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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107
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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108
afflicting
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| 痛苦的 | |
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109
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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