It is remarkable1 that even in the most fashionable shopping thoroughfares certain shops remain brilliantly open, exposing plush-cushioned wares2 under a glare of electricity in the otherwise darkened street, for an hour or so after all neighbouring establishments have drawn3 down their blinds and put up their shutters4. An interesting point of psychology5 is involved in this phenomenon.
On his way home from the paradise of the mosque6, Mr. Prohack, afoot and high-spirited, and energised by a long-forgotten sensation of physical well-being7, called in at such a shop, and, with the minimum of parley8, bought an article enclosed in a rich case. A swift and happy impulse on his part! The object was destined9 for his wife, and his intention in giving it was to help him to introduce more easily to her notice the fact that he was now, or would shortly be, worth over quarter of a million of money. For he was a strange, silly fellow, and just as he had been conscious of a certain false shame at inheriting a hundred thousand pounds, so now he was conscious of a certain false shame at having increased his possessions to two hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
The Eagle was waiting in front of Mr. Prohack's door; he wondered what might be the latest evening project of his women, for he had not ordered the car so early; perhaps the first night had been postponed11; however, he was too discreet12, or too dignified13, to make any enquiry from the chauffeur14; too indifferent to the projects of his beloved women. He would be quite content to sit at home by himself, reflecting upon the marvels15 of existence and searching among them for his soul.
Within the house, servants were rushing about in an atmosphere of excitement and bell-ringing. He divined that his wife and daughter were dressing16 simultaneously17 for an important occasion—either the first night or something else. In that feverish18 environment he forgot the form of words which he had carefully prepared for the breaking to his wife of the great financial news. Fortunately she gave him no chance to blunder.
"Oh, Arthur, Arthur!" she cried, sweetly reproachful, as with an assumed jauntiness19 he entered the bedroom. "How late you are! I expected you back an hour ago at least. Your things are laid out in the boudoir. You haven't got a moment to spare. We're late as it is." She was by no means dressed, and the bedroom looked as if it had been put to the sack; nearly every drawer was ajar, and the two beds resembled a second-hand20 shop.
Mr. Prohack's self-protective instinct at once converted him into a porcupine21. An attempt was being made to force him into a hurry, and he loathed22 hurry.
"I'm not late," said he, "because I didn't say when I should return. It won't take me more than a quarter of an hour to eat, and we've got heaps of time for the theatre."
"I'm giving a little dinner in the Grand Babylon restaurant," said Eve, "and of course we must be there first. Sissie's arranged it for me on the 'phone. It'll be much more amusing than dining here, and it saves the servants." Yet the woman had recently begun to assert that the servants hadn't enough to do!
"Ah!" said Mr. Prohack, startled. "And who are the guests?"
"Oh! Nobody! Only us and Charlie, of course, and Oswald Morfey, and perhaps Lady Massulam. I've told Charlie to do the ordering."
"I should have thought one meal per diem at the Grand Babylon would have been sufficient."
"But this is in the restaurant, don't I tell you? Oh, dear! That's three times I've tried to do my hair. It's always the same when I want it nice. Now do get along, Arthur!"
"Strange!" said he with a sardonic23 blitheness24. "Strange how it's always my fault when your hair goes wrong!" And to himself he said: "All right! All right! I just shan't inform you about that quarter of a million. You've no leisure for details to-night, my girl."
And he went into the boudoir.
His blissful serenity25 was too well established to be overthrown26 by anything short of a catastrophe27. Nevertheless it did quiver slightly under the shock of Eve's new tactics in life. This was the woman who, on only the previous night, had been inveighing28 against the ostentation29 of her son's career at the Grand Babylon. Now she seemed determined30 to rival him in showiness, to be the partner of his alleged31 vulgarity. That the immature32 Sissie should suddenly drop the ideals of the new poor for the ideals of the new rich was excusable. But Eve! But that modest embodiment of shy and quiet commonsense33! She, who once had scorned the world of The Daily Picture, was more and more disclosing a desire for that world. And where now were her doubts about the righteousness of Charlie's glittering deeds? And where was the ancient sagacity which surely should have prevented her from being deceived by the superficialities of an Oswald Morfey? Was she blindly helping34 to prepare a disaster for her blind daughter? Was the explanation that she had tasted of the fruit? The horrid35 thought crossed Mr. Prohack's mind: All women are alike. He flung it out of his loyal mind, trying to substitute: All women except Eve are alike. But it came back in its original form.... Not that he cared, really. If Eve had transformed herself into a Cleopatra his ridiculous passion for her would have suffered no modification36.
Lying around the boudoir were various rectangular parcels, addressed in flowing calligraphy37 to himself: the first harvest-loads of his busy morning. The sight of them struck his conscience. Was not he, too, following his wife on the path of the new rich? No! As ever he was blameless. He was merely executing the prescription39 of his doctor, who had expounded40 the necessity of scientific idleness and the curative effect of fine clothes on health. True, he knew himself to be cured, but if nature had chosen to cure him too quickly, that was not his fault.... He heard his wife talking to Machin in the bedroom, and Machin talking to his wife; and the servant's voice was as joyous41 and as worried as if she herself, and not Eve, were about to give a little dinner at the Grand Babylon. Queer! Queer! The phrase 'a quarter of a million' glinted and flashed in the circumambient air. But it was almost a meaningless phrase. He was like a sort of super-savage and could not count beyond a hundred thousand. And, quite unphilosophical, he forgot that the ecstasy42 produced by a hundred thousand had passed in a few days, and took for granted that the ecstasy produced by two hundred and fifty thousand would endure for ever.
"Take that thing off, please," he commanded his wife when he returned to the bedroom in full array. She was by no means complete, but she had achieved some progress, and was trying the effect of her garnet necklace.
"But it's the best I've got," said she.
"No, it isn't," he flatly contradicted her, and opened the case so newly purchased.
"That's my name."
"Pearls! But—but—this must have cost thousands!"
"And what if it did?" he enquired45 placidly47, clasping the thing with much delicacy48 round her neck. His own pleasure was intense, and yet he severely49 blamed himself. Indeed he called himself a criminal. Scarcely could he meet her gaze when she put her hands on his shoulders, after a long gazing into the mirror. And when she kissed him and said with frenzy50 that he was a dear and a madman, he privately51 agreed with her. She ran to the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I must show Sissie."
"Wait a moment, child. Do you know why I've bought that necklace? Because the affair with Spinner has come off." He then gave her the figures.
"But I knew that would be all right."
"How did you know?"
"Because you're so clever. You always get the best of everybody."
He realised afresh that she was a highly disturbing woman. She uttered highly disturbing verdicts without thought and without warning. You never knew what she would say.
"I think," he remarked, calmly pretending that she had said something quite obvious, "that it would be as well for us not to breathe one word to anybody at all about this new windfall."
She eagerly agreed.
"But we must really begin to spend—I mean spend regularly."
"Yes, of course," he admitted.
"Otherwise it would be absurd, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, of course."
"Arthur."
"Yes."
"How much will it be—in income?"
"Well, I'm not going in for any more flutters. No! I've done absolutely with all speculating idiocies53. Providence54 has watched over us. I take the hint. Therefore my investments will all have to be entirely55 safe and sound. No fancy rates of interest. I should say that by the time old Paul's fixed56 up my investments we shall have a bit over four hundred pounds a week coming in—if that's any guide to you."
"Arthur, isn't it wicked!"
She examined afresh the necklace.
By the time they were all three in the car, Mr. Prohack had become aware of the fact that in Sissie's view he ought to have bought two necklaces while he was about it.
Sissie's trunks were on the roof of the car. She had decided57 to take up residence at the Grand Babylon that very night. The rapidity and the uncontrollability of events made Mr. Prohack feel dizzy.
"I hope you've brought some money, darling," said his wife.
II
"Lend me some money, will you?" murmured Mr. Prohack lightly to his splendid son, after he had glanced at the bill for Eve's theatre dinner at the Grand Babylon. Mr. Prohack had indeed brought some money with him, but not enough. "Haven't got any," said Charlie, with equal lightness. "Better give me the bill. I'll see to it." Whereupon Charlie signed the bill, and handed the bowing waiter five ten shilling notes.
"That's not enough," said Mr. Prohack.
"Not enough for the tip. Well, it'll have to be. I never give more than ten per cent."
Mr. Prohack strove to conceal58 his own painful lack of worldliness. He had imagined that he had in his pockets heaps of money to pay for a meal for a handful of people. He was mistaken; that was all, and the incident had no importance, for a few pounds more or less could not matter in the least to a gentleman of his income. Yet he felt guilty of being a waster. He could not accustom59 himself to the scale of expenditure60. Barely in the old days could he have earned in a week the price of the repast consumed now in an hour. The vast apartment was packed with people living at just that rate of expenditure and seeming to think naught61 of it. "But do two wrongs make a right?" he privately demanded of his soul. Then his soul came to the rescue with its robust62 commonsense and replied:
"Perhaps two wrongs don't make a right, but five hundred wrongs positively64 must make a right." And he felt better.
And suddenly he understood the true function of the magnificent orchestra that dominated the scene. It was the function of a brass65 band at a quack-dentist's booth in a fair,—to drown the cries of the victims of the art of extraction.
"Yes," he reflected, full of health and carelessness. "This is a truly great life."
The party went off in two automobiles66, his own and Lady Massulam's. Cars were fighting for room in front of the blazing façade of the Metropolitan67 Theatre, across which rose in fire the title of the entertainment, Smack68 Your Face, together with the names of Asprey Chown and Eliza Fiddle69. Car after car poured out a contingent70 of glorious girls and men and was hustled71 off with ferocity by a row of gigantic and implacable commissionaires. Mr. Oswald Morfey walked straight into the building at the head of his guests. Highly expensive persons were humbling72 themselves at the little window of the box office, but Ozzie held his course, and officials performed obeisances73 which stopped short only at falling flat on their faces at the sight of him. Tickets were not for him.
"This is a beautiful box," said Eve to him, amazed at the grandeur75 of the receptacle into which they had been ushered76.
"It's Mr. Chown's own box."
"Then isn't Mr. Chown to be here to-night?"
"No! He went to Paris this morning for a rest. The acting77 manager will telephone to him after each act. That's how he always does, you know."
"When the cat's away the mice will play," thought Mr. Prohack uncomfortably, with the naughty sensations of a mouse. The huge auditorium78 was a marvellous scene of excited brilliance79. As the stalls filled up a burst of clapping came at intervals81 from the unseen pit.
"What are they clapping for?" said the simple Eve, who, like Mr. Prohack, had never been to a first-night before, to say nothing of such a super-first-night as this.
"Oh!" replied Ozzie negligently82. "Some one they know by sight just come into the stalls. The chic83 thing in the pit is to recognise, and to show by applause that you have recognised. The one that applauds the oftenest wins the game in the pit."
At those words and their tone Mr. Prohack looked at Ozzie with a new eye, as who should be thinking: "Is Sissie right about this fellow after all?"
Sissie sat down modestly and calmly next to her mother. Nobody could guess from her apparently84 ingenuous85 countenance86 that she knew that she, and not the Terror of the departments and his wife, was the originating cause of Mr. Morfey's grandiose87 hospitality.
"I suppose the stalls are full of celebrities88?" said Eve.
"They're full of people who've paid twice the ordinary price for their seats," answered Ozzie.
"Who's that extraordinary old red-haired woman in the box opposite?" Eve demanded.
"That's Enid."
"Enid?"
"Yes. You know the Enid stove, don't you? All ladies know the Enid stove. It's been a household word for forty years. That's the original Enid. Her father invented the stove, and named it after her when she was a girl. She never misses a first-night."
"Rather!"
"Now," said Mr. Prohack. "Now, at last I understand the real meaning of fame."
"But that's Charlie down there!" exclaimed Eve, suddenly, pointing to the stalls and then looking behind her to see if there was not another Charlie in the box.
"Yes," Ozzie agreed. "Lady Massulam had an extra stall, and as five's a bit of a crowd in this box.... I thought he'd told you."
"He had not," said Eve.
The curtain went up, and this simple gesture on the part of the curtain evoked90 enormous applause. The audience could not control the expression of its delight. A young lady under a sunshade appeared; the mere38 fact of her existence threw the audience into a new ecstasy. An old man with a red nose appeared: similar demonstrations91 from the audience. When these two had talked to each other and sung to each other, the applause was tripled, and when the scene changed from Piccadilly Circus at 4 a.m. to the interior of a Spanish palace inhabited by illustrious French actors and actresses who proceeded to play an act of a tragedy by Corneille, the applause was quintupled. At the end of the tragedy the applause was decupled. Then the Spanish palace dissolved into an Abyssinian harem, and Eliza Fiddle in Abyssinian costume was discovered lying upon two thousand cushions of two thousand colours, and the audience rose at Eliza and Eliza rose at the audience, and the resulting frenzy was the sublimest92 frenzy that ever shook a theatre. The piece was stopped dead for three minutes while the audience and Eliza protested a mutual93 and unique passion. From this point onwards Mr. Prohack lost his head. He ran to and fro in the bewildering glittering maze74 of the piece, seeking for an explanation, for a sign-post, for a clue, for the slightest hint, and found nothing. He had no alternative but to cling to Eliza Fiddle, and he clung to her desperately94. She was willing to be clung to. She gave herself, not only to Mr. Prohack, but to every member of the audience separately; she gave herself in the completeness of all her manifestations95. The audience was rich in the possession of the whole of her individuality, which was a great deal. She sang, danced, chattered96, froze, melted, laughed, cried, flirted97, kissed, kicked, cursed, and turned somersaults with the fury of a dervish, the languor98 of an odalisque, and the inexhaustibility of a hot-spring geyser.... And at length Mr. Prohack grew aware of a feeling within himself that was at war with the fresh, fine feeling of physical well-being. "I have never seen a revue before," he said in secret. "Is it possible that I am bored?"
III
"Would you care to go behind and be introduced to Miss Fiddle?" Ozzie suggested at the interval80 after the curtain had been raised seventeen times in response to frantic99 shoutings, cheerings, thumpings and clappings, and the mighty100 tumult101 of exhilaration had subsided102 into a happy buzz that arose from all the seats in the entire orange-tinted brilliant auditorium. The ladies would not go; the ladies feared, they said, to impose their company upon Miss Fiddle in the tremendous strain of her activities. They spoke103 primly104 and decisively. It was true that they feared; but their fear was based on consideration for themselves rather than on consideration for Miss Fiddle. Ozzie was plainly snubbed. He had offered a wonderful privilege, and it had been disdained105.
Mr. Prohack could not bear the spectacle of Ozzie's discomfiture106. His sad weakness for pleasing people overcame him, and, putting his hand benevolently107 on the young man's shoulder, he said:
"My dear fellow, personally I'm dying to go."
They went by strangely narrow corridors and through iron doors across the stage, whose shirt-sleeved, ragged108 population seemed to be behaving as though the last trump109 had sounded, and so upstairs and along a broad passage full of doors ajar from which issued whispers and exclamations110 and transient visions of young women. From the star's dressing-room, at the end, a crowd of all sorts and conditions of persons was being pushed. Mr. Prohack trembled with an awful apprehension111, and asked himself vainly what in the name of commonsense he was doing there, and prayed that Ozzie might be refused admission. The next moment he was being introduced to a middle-aged112 woman in a middle-aged dressing-gown. Her face was thickly caked with paint and powder, her eyes surrounded with rings of deepest black, her finger-nails red. Mr. Prohack, not without difficulty, recognised Eliza. A dresser stood on either side of her. Blinding showers of electric light poured down upon her defenceless but hardy113 form. She shook hands, but Mr. Prohack deemed that she ought to bear a notice: "Danger. Visitors are requested not to touch."
"So good of you to come round," she said, in her rich and powerful voice, smiling with all her superb teeth. Mr. Prohack, entranced, gazed, not as at a woman, but as at a public monument. Nevertheless he thought that she was not a bad kind, and well suited for the rough work of the world.
"I hope you're all coming to my ball to-night," said she. Mr. Prohack had never heard of any ball. In an instant she told him that she had remarked two most charming ladies with him in the box—(inordinate faculty114 of observation, mused115 Mr. Prohack)—and in another instant she was selling him three two guinea tickets for a grand ball and rout116 in aid of the West End Chorus Girls' Aid Association. Could he refuse, perceiving so clearly as he did that within the public monument was hiding a wistful creature, human like himself, human like his wife and daughter? He could not.
"Now you'll come?" said she.
Mr. Prohack swore that he would come, his heart sinking as he realised the consequence of his own foolish weakness. There was a knock at the door.
"Did you want me, Liza?" said a voice, and a fat gentleman, clothed with resplendent correctness, stepped into the room. It was the stage-manager, a god in his way.
"I should think I did want you," she said passionately118. "That's why I sent for you, and next time I'll ask you to come quicker. I'm not going to have that squint-eyed girl on the stage any more to-night. You know, the one at the end of the row. Twice she spoiled my exit by getting in the way. And you've got to throw her out, and take it from me. She does it on purpose."
"I can't throw her out without Mr. Chown's orders, and Mr. Chown's in Paris."
"Then you refuse?"
A pause.
"Yes."
"Then I'm not going on again to-night, not if I know it. I'm not going to be insulted in my own theatre."
"It's not the girl's fault. You know they haven't got room to move."
"I don't know anything about that and I don't care. All I know is that I've finished with that squint-eyed woman, and you can choose right now between her and me. And so that's that."
Miss Fiddle's fragile complexion119 had approached to within six inches of the stage-manager's broad and shiny features, and it had little resemblance to any of the various faces which audiences associated with the figure of Eliza Fiddle; it was a face voluptuously120 distorted by the violence of emotion. As Miss Fiddle appeared to be under the impression that she was alone with the stage-manager, Mr. Prohack rendered justice to that impression by softly departing. Ozzie followed. The stage-manager also followed. "Where are you going?" they heard Eliza's voice behind them addressing the stage-manager.
"I'm going to tell your under-study to get ready quick."
An enormous altercation121 uprose, and faces peeped from every door in the corridor; but Mr. Prohack stayed not. Ozzie led him to Mr. Asprey Chown's private room. The Terror of the departments was shaken. Ozzie laughed gently as he shut the door.
"What will happen?" asked Mr. Prohack, affecting a gaiety he did not feel.
"What do you think will happen?" simpered Ozzie blandly122, "having due regard to the fact that Miss Fiddle has to choose between three hundred and fifty pounds a week and a law-suit with Chown involving heavy damages? I must say there's nobody like Blaggs for keeping these three hundred and fifty pound a week individuals in order. Chown would sooner lose forty of them than lose Blaggs. And Eliza knows it. By the way, what do you think of the show?"
"Will it succeed?"
"You should see the advance booking. There's a thousand pounds in the house to-night. Chown will be clearing fifteen hundred a week when he's paid off his production."
"Well, it's marvellous."
"You don't mean the show?"
"No. The profit."
"I agree," simpered Ozzie.
"I'm beginning to like this sizzling idiot," thought Mr. Prohack, as it were regretfully. They left the imperial richness of Mr. Chown's private room like brothers.
IV
When Mr. Prohack touched the handle of the door of the box, he felt as though he were returning to civilisation123; he felt less desolated124 by the immediate125 past and by the prospect126 of the immediate future; he was yearning127 for the society of mere women after his commerce with a star at three hundred and fifty pounds a week. True, he badly wanted to examine his soul and enquire46 into his philosophy of life, but he was prepared to postpone10 that inquest until the society of mere women had had a beneficial effect on him.
Charlie, who had been paying a state visit to his mother and sister was just leaving the box and the curtain was just going up.
"Hullo, dad!" said the youth, "you're the very man I was looking for," and he drew his father out into the corridor. "You've got two of the finest ballroom128 dancers I ever saw," he added to Ozzie.
"But the rest of the show ..." Charlie went on, ruthless. "Well, if Chown's shows were only equal to his showmanship...! Only they aren't!"
Ozzie raised his eyebrows—a skilful130 gesture that at once defended his employer and agreed with Charles.
"By the way, dad, I've got a house for you. I've told the mater about it and she's going to see it to-morrow morning."
"A house!" Mr. Prohack exclaimed weakly, foreseeing new vistas131 of worry. "I've got one. I can't live in two."
"But this one's a house. You know about it, don't you, Morfey?"
Ozzie gave a nod and a vague smile.
"See here, dad! Come out here a minute."
Ozzie discreetly132 entered the box and closed the door.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Prohack.
"It's this," Charlie replied, handing his parent a cheque. "I've deducted133 what I paid for you to-night from what you lent me not long since. I've calculated interest on the loan at ten per cent. You can get ten practically anywhere in these days, worse luck."
"But I don't want this, my boy," Mr. Prohack protested, holding the cheque as he might have held a lady's handkerchief retrieved134 from the ground.
"Well, I'm quite sure I don't," said Charlie, a little stiffly.
There was a pause.
"As you please," said Mr. Prohack, putting the cheque—interest and all—into his pocket.
"Thanks," said Charlie. "Much obliged. You're a noble father, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if you've laid the foundation of my fortunes. But of course you never know—in my business."
"What is your business?" Mr. Prohack asked timidly, almost apologetically. He had made up his mind on the previous evening that he would talk to Charlie as a father ought to talk to a son, that is to say, like a cross-examining barrister and a moralist combined. He had decided that it was more than his right—it was his duty to do so. But now the right, if not the duty, seemed less plain, and he remembered what he had said to Eve concerning the right attitude of parents to children. And chiefly he remembered that Charlie was not in his debt.
"I'm a buyer and seller. I buy for less than I sell for. That's how I live."
"It appears to be profitable."
"Yes. I made over ten thousand in Glasgow, buying an option on an engineering business—with your money—from people who wanted to get rid of it, and then selling what I hadn't paid for to people in London who wanted to get hold of an engineering business up there. Seems simple enough, and the only reason everybody isn't doing it is that it isn't as simple as it seems. At least, it's simple, but there's a knack136 in it. I found out I'd got the knack through my little deals in motor-bikes and things. As a matter of fact I didn't find out,—some one told me, and I began to think.... But don't be alarmed if I go bust63. I'm on to a much bigger option now, in the City. Oh! Very much bigger. If it comes off ... you'll see. Lady Massulam is keen on it, and she's something of a judge.... Any remarks?"
Mr. Prohack looked cautiously at the young man, his own creation, to whom, only the other day as it seemed, he had been in the habit of giving one pound per school-term for pocket-money. And he was affrighted—not by what he had created, but by the astounding137 possibilities of fatherhood, which suddenly presented itself to him as a most dangerous pursuit.
"No remarks," said he, briefly138. What remarks indeed could he offer? Wildly guessing at the truth about his son, in that conversation with Eve on the previous evening, he had happened to guess right. And his sermon to Eve prevented now the issue of remarks.
"Oh! Of course!" Charlie burst out. "You can't tell me anything I don't know already. I'm a pirate. I'm not producing. All the money I make has to be earned by somebody else before I get hold of it. I'm not doing any good to my beautiful country. But I did try to find a useful job, didn't I? My beautiful country wouldn't have me. It only wanted me in the trenches139. Well, it's got to have me. I'll jolly well make it pay now. I'll squeeze every penny out of it. I'll teach it a lesson. And why not? I shall only be shoving its own ideas down its throat. Supposing I hadn't got this knack and I hadn't had you. I might have been wearing all my ribbons and playing a barrel organ in Oxford140 Street to-day instead of living at the Grand Babylon."
"You're becoming quite eloquent141 in your old age," said Mr. Prohack, tremulously jocular while looking with alarm into his paternal142 heart. Was not he himself a pirate? Had not the hundred and fifty thousand that was coming to him had to be earned by somebody else? Money did not make itself.
"Well," retorted Charlie, with a grim smile. "There's one thing to be said for me. When I do talk, I talk."
"And so at last you've begun to read?"
"I'm not going to be the ordinary millionaire. No fear! Make your mind easy on that point. Besides, reading isn't so bad after all."
"And what about that house you were speaking of? You aren't going to plant any of your options on me."
"We'll discuss that to-morrow. I must get back to my seat," said Charlie firmly, moving away. "So long."
"I say," Mr. Prohack summoned him to return. "I'm rather curious about the methods of you millionaires. Just when did you sign that cheque for me? You only lent me the money as we were leaving the hotel."
"I made it out while I was talking to the mater and Sis in your box, of course."
"How simple are the acts of genius—after they're accomplished143!" observed Mr. Prohack. "Naturally you signed it in the box."
As he rejoined his family he yawned, surprising himself. He began to feel a mysterious fatigue144. The effect of the Turkish bath, without doubt! The remainder of the evening stretched out in front of him, interminably tedious. The title of the play was misleading. He could not smack his face. He wished to heaven he could.... And then, after the play, the ball! Eliza might tell him to dance with her. She would be quite capable of such a deed. And by universal convention her suggestions were the equivalent of demands. Nobody ever could or would refuse to dance with Eliza.... There she was, all her four limbs superbly displayed, sweetly smiling with her enormous mouth, just as if the relations between Blaggs and herself were those of Paul and Virginia. The excited audience, in the professional phrase, was "eating" her.
V
Mr. Prohack was really a most absurd person. Smack Your Face, when it came to an end, towards midnight, had established itself as an authentic145 enormous success; and because Mr. Prohack did not care for it, because it bored him, because he found it vulgar and tedious and expensive, because it tasted in his mouth like a dust-and-ashes sandwich, the fellow actually felt sad; he felt even bitter. He hated to see the fashionable and splendid audience unwilling146 to leave the theatre, cheering one super-favourite, five arch-favourites and fifteen favourites, and cheering them again and again, and sending the curtain up and down and up and down time after time. He could not bear that what he detested147 should be deliriously148 admired. He went so far as to form views about the decadence149 of the theatre as an institution. Most of all he was disgusted because his beloved Eve was not disgusted. Eve said placidly that she did not think much of the affair, but that she had thoroughly150 enjoyed it and wouldn't mind coming on the next night to see it afresh. He said gloomily:
"And I've been bringing you up for nearly twenty-five years."
As for Sissie, she was quietly and sternly enthusiastic about a lot of the dancing. She announced her judgment151 as an expert, and Charlie agreed with her, and there was no appeal, and Mr. Prohack had the air of an ignorant outsider whose opinions were negligible. Further, he was absurd in that, though he assuredly had no desire whatever to go to the dance, he fretted152 at the delay in getting there. Even when they had all got out to the porch of the theatre he exhibited a controlled but intense impatience153 because Charlie did not produce the car instantly from amidst the confused hordes154 of cars that waited in the surrounding streets. Moreover, as regards the ball, he had foolishly put himself in a false position; for he was compelled to pretend that he had purchased the tickets because he personally wanted to go to the ball. Had he not been learning to dance? Now the fact was that he looked forward to the ball with terror. He had never performed publicly. He proceeded from one pretence155 to another. When Charlie stated curtly156 that he, Charlie, was going to no ball, he feigned157 disappointment, saying that Charlie ought to go for his sister's sake. Yet he was greatly relieved at Charlie's departure (even in Lady Massulam's car); he could not stomach the notion of Charlie cynically158 watching his infant steps on the polished, treacherous159 floor. In the matter of Charlie, Oswald Morfey also feigned disappointment, but for a different reason. Ozzie wanted to have Sissie as much as possible to himself.
Mr. Prohack yawned in the car.
"You're over-tired, Arthur. It's the Turkish bath," said Eve with commiseration160. This was a bad enough mistake on her part, but she worsened it by adding: "Perhaps the wisest thing would be for us all to go home."
Mr. Prohack was extremely exhausted161, and would have given his head to go home; but so odd, so contrary, so deceitful and so silly was his nature that he replied:
"Darling! Where on earth do you get these ideas from? There's nothing like a Turkish bath for stimulating162 you, and I'm not at all tired. I never felt better in my life. But the atmosphere of that theatre would make anybody yawn."
The ball was held in a picture-gallery where an exhibition of the International Portrait Society was in progress. The crush of cars at the portals was as keen as that at the portals of the Metropolitan. And all the persons who got out of the cars seemed as fresh as if they had just got out of bed. Mr. Prohack was astonished at the vast number of people who didn't care what time they went to bed because they didn't care what time they arose; he was in danger of being morbidly163 obsessed164 by the extraordinary prevalence of idleness. The rooms were full of brilliant idlers in all colours. Everybody except chorus girls had thought fit to appear at this ball in aid of the admirably charitable Chorus Girls' Aid Association. And as everybody was also on the walls, the dancers had to compete with their portraits—a competition in which many of them were well beaten.
After they had visited the supper-room, where both Sissie and her mother did wonderful feats165 of degustation and Mr. Prohack drank all that was good for him, Sissie ordered her father to dance with her. He refused. She went off with Ozzie, while her parents sat side by side on gold chairs like ancestors. Sissie repeated her command, and Mr. Prohack was about to disobey when Eliza Fiddle dawned upon the assemblage.
The supernatural creature had been rehearsing until 3 a.m., she had been trying on clothes from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. She had borne the chief weight of Smack Your Face, on her unique shoulders for nearly three hours and a half. She had changed into an unforgettable black ball-dress, cut to demonstrate in the clearest fashion that her shoulders had suffered no harm; and here she was as fresh as Aphrodite from the foam166. She immediately set herself to bear the chief weight of the ball on those same defenceless shoulders; for she was, in theory at any rate, the leading organiser of the affair, and according to the entire press it was "her" ball. As soon as he saw her Mr. Prohack had a most ridiculous fear lest she should pick him out for a dance, and to protect himself he said "All right" to his daughter.
A fox-trot announced itself. In his own drawing-room, with the door locked, Mr. Prohack could and did treat a fox-trot as child's play. But now he realised that he had utterly167 forgotten every movement of the infernal thing. Agony as he stood up and took his daughter's hand! An awful conviction that everybody (who was anybody) was staring to witness the Terror of the departments trying to jazz in public for the first time. A sick, sinking fear lest some of his old colleagues from the Treasury168 might be lurking169 in corners to guy him! Agony as he collected himself and swayed his body slightly to catch the rhythm of the tune135! Where in heaven's name was the first beat in the bar?
"Walk first," said Sissie professionally.... He was in motion.
"Now!" said Sissie. "One, two. One, two." Miraculously170 he was dancing! It was as though the whole room was shouting: "They're off!" Sissie steered171 him.
"Don't look at your feet!" said she sharply, and like a schoolboy he chucked his chin obediently up.... Then he was steering172 her. Although her feet were the reverse of enormous he somehow could not keep off them; but that girl was made of hardy stuff and never winced173. He was doing better. Pride was puffing174 him. Yet he desired the music to stop. The music did stop.
"Thanks," he breathed.
"Oh, no!" said she. "That's not all." The dancers clapped and the orchestra resumed. He started again. Couples surged around him, and sometimes he avoided them and sometimes he did not. Then he saw a head bobbing not far away, as if it were one cork175 and he another on a choppy sea. It resembled Eve's head. It was Eve's head. She was dancing with Oswald Morfey. He had never supposed that Eve could dance these new dances.
"Let's stop," said he.
"Certainly not," Sissie forbade. "We must finish it." He finished it, rather breathless and dizzy. He had lived through it.
"Oh no! I'm no good."
"I was frightfully nervous about you at first," said Sissie.
He said briefly:
"You needn't have been. I wasn't."
A little later Eve said to him:
"Aren't you going to ask me to dance, Arthur?"
Dancing with Eve was not quite like dancing with Sissie, but they safely survived deadly perils177. And Mr. Prohack perspired178 in a very healthy fashion.
"You dance really beautifully, dear," said Eve, benevolently smiling.
After that he cut himself free and roamed about. He wanted to ask Eliza Fiddle to dance, and also he didn't want to ask her to dance. However, he had apparently ceased to exist for her. Ozzie had introduced him to several radiant young creatures. He wanted to ask them to dance; but he dared not. And he was furious with himself. To dance with one's daughter and wife was well enough in its way, but it was not the real thing. It was without salt. One or two of the radiances glanced at him with inviting179 eyes, but no, he dared not face it. He grew gloomy, gloomier. He thought angrily: "All this is not for me. I'm a middle-aged fool, and I've known it all along." Life lost its savour and became repugnant. Fatigue punished him, and simultaneously reduced two hundred and fifty thousand pounds to the value of about fourpence. It was Eve who got him away.
"Home," he called to Carthew, after Eve and Sissie had said good-bye to Ozzie and stowed themselves into the car.
"Excuse me," said Sissie. "You have to deliver me at the Grand Babylon first."
He had forgotten! This détour was the acutest torture of the night. He could no longer bear not to be in bed. And when, after endless nocturnal miles, he did finally get home and into bed, he sighed as one taken off the rack. Ah! The delicious contact with the pillow!
VI
But there are certain persons who, although their minds are logical enough, have illogical bodies. Mr. Prohack was one of these. His ridiculous physical organism (as he had once informed Dr. Veiga) was least capable of going to sleep when it was most fatigued180. If Mr. Prohack's body had retired181 to bed four hours earlier than in fact it did, Mr. Prohack would have slept instantly and with ease. Now, despite delicious contact with the pillow, he could not 'get off.' And his mind, influenced by his body, grew restless, then excited, then distressingly182 realistic. His mind began to ask fundamental questions, questions not a bit original but none the less very awkward.
"You've had your first idle day, Mr. Prohack," said his mind challengingly instead of composing itself to slumber183. "It was organised on scientific lines. It was carried out with conscientiousness184. And look at you! And look at me! You've had a few good moments, as for example at the Turkish bath, but do you want a succession of such days? Could you survive a succession of such days? Would you even care to acquire a hundred and fifty thousand pounds every day? You have eaten too much and drunk too much, and run too hard after pleasure, and been too much bored, and met too many antipathetic people, and squandered185 too much money, and set a thoroughly bad example to your family. You have been happy only in spasms186. Your health is good; you are cured of your malady187. Does that render you any more contented188? It does not. You have complicated your existence in the hope of improving it. But have you improved it? No. You ought to simplify your existence. But will you? You will not. All your strength of purpose will be needed to prevent still further complications being woven into your existence. To inherit a hundred thousand pounds was your misfortune. But deliberately189 to increase the sum to a quarter of a million was your fault. You were happier at the Treasury. You left the Treasury on account of illness. You are not ill any more. Will you go back to the Treasury? No. You will never go back, because your powerful commonsense tells you that to return to the Treasury with an income of twenty thousand a year would be grotesque190. And rather than be grotesque you would suffer. Again, rightly. Nothing is worse than to be grotesque."
"Further," said his mind, "you have started your son on a sinister191 career of adventure that may end in calamity192. You have ministered to your daughter's latent frivolity193. You have put temptations in the way of your wife which she cannot withstand. You have developed yourself into a waster. What is the remedy? Obviously to dispose of your money. But your ladies would not permit you to do so and they are entitled to be heard on the point. Moreover, how could you dispose of it? Not in charity, because you are convinced of the grave social mischievousness194 of charity. And not in helping any great social movement, because you are not silly enough not to know that the lavishing195 of wealth never really aids, but most viciously hinders, the proper evolution of a society. And you cannot save your income and let it accumulate, because if you did you would once again be tumbling into the grotesque; and you would, further, be leaving to your successors a legacy196 of evil which no man is justified197 in leaving to his successors. No! Your case is in practice irremediable. Like the murderer on the scaffold, you are the victim of circumstances. And not one human being in a million will pity you. You are a living tragedy which only death can end."
During this disconcerting session Eve had been mysteriously engaged in the boudoir. She now came into the dark bedroom.
"What?" she softly murmured, hearing Mr. Prohack's restlessness. "Not asleep, darling?" She bent198 over him and kissed him and her kiss was even softer, more soporific, than her voice. "Now do go to sleep."
And Mr. Prohack went to sleep, and his last waking thought was, with the feel of the kiss on his nose (the poor woman had aimed badly in the dark): "Anyway this tragedy has one compensation, of which a hundred quarter of a millions can't deprive me."
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1
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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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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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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mosque
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| n.清真寺 | |
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well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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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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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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jauntiness
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| n.心满意足；洋洋得意；高兴；活泼 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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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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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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blitheness
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| n.blithe（快乐的）的变形 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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27
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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inveighing
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| v.猛烈抨击，痛骂，谩骂( inveigh的现在分词 ) | |
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ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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immature
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| adj.未成熟的，发育未全的，未充分发展的 | |
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commonsense
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| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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37
calligraphy
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| n.书法 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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expounded
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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43
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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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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45
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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46
enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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47
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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48
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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50
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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51
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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52
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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53
idiocies
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| n.极度的愚蠢( idiocy的名词复数 )；愚蠢的行为；白痴状态 | |
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54
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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55
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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56
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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57
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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58
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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59
accustom
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| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
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60
expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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61
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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62
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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63
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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64
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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65
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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66
automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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67
metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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68
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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69
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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70
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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71
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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72
humbling
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| adj.令人羞辱的v.使谦恭( humble的现在分词 )；轻松打败（尤指强大的对手）；低声下气 | |
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73
obeisances
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| n.敬礼，行礼( obeisance的名词复数 )；敬意 | |
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74
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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75
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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76
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
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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78
auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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79
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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80
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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81
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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82
negligently
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83
chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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84
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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85
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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86
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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87
grandiose
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| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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88
celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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89
celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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90
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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91
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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92
sublimest
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| 伟大的( sublime的最高级 )； 令人赞叹的； 极端的； 不顾后果的 | |
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93
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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94
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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95
manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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96
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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97
flirted
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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99
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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100
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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101
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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102
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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103
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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104
primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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105
disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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106
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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107
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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108
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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109
trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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110
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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111
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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112
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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113
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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114
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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115
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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116
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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117
cyclone
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| n.旋风，龙卷风 | |
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118
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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119
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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120
voluptuously
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| adv.风骚地，体态丰满地 | |
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121
altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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122
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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123
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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124
desolated
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| adj.荒凉的，荒废的 | |
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125
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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126
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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127
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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128
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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129
concurred
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| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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130
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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131
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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132
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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133
deducted
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| v.扣除，减去( deduct的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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135
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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136
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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137
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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138
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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139
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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140
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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141
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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142
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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143
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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144
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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145
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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146
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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147
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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148
deliriously
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| adv.谵妄（性）；发狂；极度兴奋/亢奋；说胡话 | |
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149
decadence
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| n.衰落，颓废 | |
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150
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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151
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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152
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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153
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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154
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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155
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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156
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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157
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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158
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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159
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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160
commiseration
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| n.怜悯，同情 | |
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161
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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162
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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163
morbidly
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| adv.病态地 | |
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164
obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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165
feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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166
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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167
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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168
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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169
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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170
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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171
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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172
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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173
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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174
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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175
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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176
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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177
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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178
perspired
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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179
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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180
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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181
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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182
distressingly
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| adv. 令人苦恼地；悲惨地 | |
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183
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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184
conscientiousness
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| 责任心 | |
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185
squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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186
spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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187
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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188
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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189
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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190
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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191
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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192
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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193
frivolity
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| n.轻松的乐事，兴高采烈；轻浮的举止 | |
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194
mischievousness
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| 恶作剧 | |
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195
lavishing
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的现在分词 ) | |
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196
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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197
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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198
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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