The first arrivals came at nine thirty. He stood by Eve and greeted them; and he had greeted about twenty individuals when he yawned (for a good reason) and Eve said to him:
"You needn't stay here, you know. Go and amuse yourself." (This suggestion followed the advent3 of Lady Massulam.)
He didn't stay. Ozzie Morfey and Sissie supplanted4 him. At a quarter to eleven he was in the glazed5 conservatory6 built over the monumental portico7, with Sir Paul Spinner. He could see down into the Square, which was filled with the splendid and numerous automobiles8 incident to his wife's reception. Guests—and not the least important among them—were still arriving. Cars rolled up to the portico, gorgeous women and plain men jumped out on to the red cloth, of which he could just see the extremity9 near the kerb, and vanished under him, and the cars hid themselves away in the depths of the Square. Looking within his home he admired the vista10 of brilliantly illuminated11 rooms, full of gilt12 chairs, priceless furniture, and extremely courageous13 toilettes. For, as the reception was 'to meet the Committee of the League of all the Arts.' (Ozzie had placed many copies of the explanatory pamphlet on various tables), artists of all kinds and degrees abounded14, and the bourgeois15 world (which chiefly owned the automobiles) thought proper to be sartorially16 as improper17 as fashion would allow; and fashion allowed quite a lot. The affair might have been described as a study in shoulder-blades. It was a very great show, and Mr. Prohack appreciated all of it, the women, the men, the lionesses, the lions, the kaleidoscope of them, the lights, the reflections in the mirrors and in the waxed floors, the discreetly18 hidden music, the grandiose19 buffet20, the efficient valetry. He soon got used to not recognising, and not being recognised by, the visitors to his own house. True, he could not conceive that the affair would serve any purpose but one,—namely the purpose of affording innocent and expensive pleasure to his wife.
"You've hit on a pretty good sort of a place here," grunted21 Sir Paul Spinner, whose waistcoat buttons were surpassed in splendour only by his carbuncles.
"Well," said Mr. Prohack, "to me, living here is rather like being on the stage all the time. It's not real."
"What the deuce do you mean, it's not real? There aren't twenty houses in London with a finer collection of genuine bibelots than you have here."
"Yes, but they aren't mine, and I didn't choose them or arrange them."
"What does that matter? You can look at them and enjoy the sight of them. Nobody can do more."
"Paul, you're talking neo-conventional nonsense again. Have you ever in your career as a city man stood outside a money-changer's and looked at the fine collection of genuine banknotes in the window? Supposing I told you that you could look at them and enjoy the sight of them, and nobody could do more?... No, my boy, to enjoy a thing properly you've got to own it. And anybody who says the contrary is probably a member of the League of all the Arts." He gave another enormous yawn. "Excuse my yawning, Paul, but this house is a perfect Inferno22 for me. The church of St. Nicodemus is hard by, and the church of St. Nicodemus has a striking clock, and the clock strikes all the hours and all the quarters on a half cracked bell or two bells. If I am asleep every hour wakes me up, and most of the quarters. The clock strikes not only the hours and the quarters but me. I regulate my life by that clock. If I'm beginning to repose23 at ten minutes to the hour, I say to myself that I must wait till the hour before really beginning, and I do wait. It is killing24 me, and nobody can see that it is killing me. The clock annoys some individuals a little occasionally; they curse, and then go to sleep and stay asleep. For them the clock is a nuisance; but for me it's an assassination25. However, I can't make too much fuss. Several thousands of people must live within sound of the St. Nicodemus clock; yet the rector has not been murdered nor the church razed26 to the ground. Hence the clock doesn't really upset many people. And there are hundreds of such infernal clocks in London, and they all survive. It follows therefore that I am peculiar27. Nobody has a right to be peculiar. Hence I do not complain. I suffer. I've tried stuffing my ears with cotton-wool, and stuffing the windows of my bedroom with eiderdowns. No use. I've tried veronal. No use either. The only remedy would be for me to give the house up. Which would he absurd. My wife soothes28 me and says that of course I shall get used to the clock. I shall never get used to it. Lately she has ceased even to mention the clock. My daughter thinks I am becoming a grumbler29 in my latter years. My son smiles indifferently. I admit that my son's secretary is more sympathetic. Like most people who are both idle and short of sleep, I usually look very well, spry and wideawake. My friends remark on my healthy appearance. You did. The popular mind cannot conceive that I am merely helplessly waiting for death to put me out of my misery31; but so it is. There must be quite a few others in the same fix as me in London, dying because rectors and other clergymen and officials insist on telling them the time all through the night. But they suffer in silence as I do. As I do, they see the uselessness of a fuss."
"You will get used to it, Arthur," said Sir Paul indulgently but not unironically, at the end of Mr. Prohack's disquisition. "You're in a nervous state and your judgment's warped32. Now, I never even heard your famous clock strike ten."
"No, you wouldn't, Paul! And my judgment's warped, is it?" There was irritation33 in Mr. Prohack's voice. He took out his watch. "In sixty or seventy seconds you shall hear that clock strike eleven, and you shall give me your honest views about it. And you shall apologise to me."
Sir Paul obediently and sympathetically listened, while the murmur34 of the glowing reception and the low beat of music continued within.
"You tell me when it starts to strike," said he.
"You won't want any telling," said Mr. Prohack, who knew too well the riving, rending35, smashing sound of the terrible bells.
"It's a pretty long seventy seconds," observed Sir Paul.
But at eighteen minutes past eleven the clock had audibly struck neither the hour nor the quarter. Sir Paul was a man of tact37. He said simply:
"I should like a drink, dear old boy."
"The clock's not striking," said Mr. Prohack, with solemn joy, as the wonderful truth presented itself to him. "Either it's stopped, or they've cut off the striking attachment38." And to one of the maids on the landing he said as they passed towards the buffet: "Run out and see what time it is by the church clock, and come back and tell me, will you?" A few minutes later he was informed that the church clock showed half-past eleven. The clock therefore was still going but had ceased to strike. Mr. Prohack at once drank two glasses of champagne39 at the buffet, while Sir Paul had the customary whiskey.
"I say, old thing, I say!" Sir Paul protested.
"I shall sleep!" said Mr. Prohack in a loud, gay, triumphant40 voice. He was a new man.
The reception now seemed to him far more superb than ever. It was almost at its apogee41. All the gilt chairs were occupied; all the couches and fauteuils of the room were occupied, and certain delicious toilettes were even spread on rugs or on the bare, reflecting floors. On every hand could be heard artistic42 discussions, serious and informed and yet lightsome in tone. If it was not the real originality43 of jazz music that was being discussed, it was the sureness of the natural untaught taste of the denizens44 of the East End and South London, and if not that then the greatness of male revue artistes, and if not that then the need of a national theatre and of a minister of fine arts, and if not that then the sculptural quality of the best novels and the fictional45 quality of the best sculpture, and if not that then the influence on British life of the fox-trot, and if not that then the prospects46 of bringing modern poets home to the largest public by means of the board schools, and if not that then the evil effects of the twin great London institutions for teaching music upon the individualities of the young geniuses entrusted47 to them, and if not that the part played by the most earnest amateurs in the destruction of opera, and if not that the total eclipse of Beethoven, Brahms and Wagner since the efflorescence of the Russian Ballet. And always there ran like a flame through the conversations the hot breath of a passionate48 intention to make Britain artistic in the eyes of the civilised world.
What especially pleased Mr. Prohack about the whole affair, as he moved to and fro seeking society now instead of avoiding it, was the perfect futility49 of the affair, save as it affected50 Eve's reputation. He perceived the beauty of costly51 futility, and he was struck again, when from afar he observed his wife's conquering mien52, by the fact that the reception did not exist for the League, but the League for the reception. The reception was a real and a resplendent thing; nobody could deny it. The League was a fog of gush53. The League would be dear at twopence half-penny. The reception was cheap if it stood him in five hundred pounds. Eve was an infant; Eve was pleased with gewgaws; but Eve had found herself and he was well content to pay five hundred pounds for the look on her ingenuous54 face.
"And nothing of this would have happened," he thought, impressed by the wonders of life, "if in a foolish impulse of generosity55 I hadn't once lent a hundred quid to that chap Angmering."
He descried56 Lady Massulam in converse57 with a tall, stout58 and magnificently dressed gentleman, who bowed deeply and departed as Mr. Prohack approached.
"Who is your fat friend?" said Mr. Prohack.
"He's from The Daily Picture.... But isn't this rather a strange way of greeting a guest after so long a separation? Do you know that I'm in your house and you haven't shaken hands with me?"
There was a note of intimacy59 and of challenge in Lady Massulam's demeanour that pleased Mr. Prohack immensely, and caused him to see that the romance of Frinton was neither factitious nor at an end. He felt pleasantly, and even thrillingly, that they had something between them.
"Ah!" he returned, consciously exerting his charm. "I thought you detested60 our English formality and horrible restraint. Further, this isn't my house; it's my wife's."
"Your wife is wonderful!" said Lady Massulam, as though teaching him to appreciate his wife and indicating that she alone had the right thus to teach him,—the subtlest thing. "I've never seen an evening better done—reussie."
"She is rather wonderful," Mr. Prohack admitted, his tone implying that while putting Lady Massulam in a class apart, he had wit enough to put his wife too in a class apart,—the subtlest thing.
"I quite expected to meet you again in Frinton," said Lady Massulam simply. "How abrupt61 you are in your methods!"
"Only when it's a case of self-preservation," Mr. Prohack responded, gazing at her with daring significance.
"I'm going to talk to Mrs. Prohack," said Lady Massulam, rising. But before she left him she murmured confidentially62 in his ear: "Where's your son?"
"Don't know. Why?'
"I don't think he's come yet. I'm afraid the poor boy's affairs are not very bright."
"I shall look after him," said Mr. Prohack, grandly. A qualm did pierce him at the sound of her words, but he would not be depressed63. He smiled serenely64, self-confidently, and said to himself: "I could look after forty Charleses."
He watched his wife and his friend chatting together as equals in The Daily Picture. Yes, Eve was wonderful, and but for sheer hazard he would never have known how wonderful she was capable of being.
"You've got a great show here to-night, old man," said a low, mysterious voice at his side. Mr. Softly Bishop65 was smiling down his nose and holding out his hand while looking at nothing but his nose.
"Hello, Bishop!" said Mr. Prohack, controlling a desire to add: "I'd no idea you'd been invited!"
"Samples of every world—except the next," said Mr. Softly Bishop. "And now the theatrical66 contingent67 is arriving after its night's work."
"Do you know who that fellow is?" Mr. Prohack demanded, indicating a little man with the aspect of a prize-fighter who was imperially conveying to Mrs. Prohack that Mrs. Prohack was lucky to get him to her reception.
"Why!" replied Mr. Bishop. "That's the Napoleon of the stage."
"Not Asprey Chown!"
"Asprey Chown."
"Great Scott!" And Mr. Prohack laughed.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Mere30 glee. This is the crown of my career as a man of the world." He saw Mr. Asprey Chown give a careless brusque nod to Ozzie Morfey, and he laughed again.
"It's rather comic, isn't it?" Mr. Softly Bishop acquiesced68. "I wonder why Oswald Morfey has abandoned his famous stock for an ordinary necktie."
"Probably because he's going to be my son-in-law," said Mr. Prohack.
"Ah!" ejaculated Mr. Softly Bishop. "I congratulate him."
Mr. Prohack looked grim in order to conceal69 his joy in the assurance that he would sleep that night, and in the sensations produced by the clear fact that Lady Massulam was still interested in him. Somehow he wanted to dance, not with any woman, but by himself, a reel.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Softly Bishop. "You are shining to-night. Here's Eliza Fiddle70, and that's her half-sister Miss Fancy behind her."
And it was Eliza Fiddle, and the ageing artiste with her ravaged71 complexion72 and her defiant73 extra-vivacious mien created instantly an impression such as none but herself could have created. The entire assemblage stared, murmuring its excitement, at the renowned74 creature. Eliza loved the stare and the murmur. She was like a fish dropped into water after a gasping75 spell in mere air.
"I admit I was in too much of a hurry when I spoke76 of having reached the zenith," said Mr. Prohack. "I'm only just getting there now. And who's the half-sister?"
"She's not precisely77 unknown on the American stage," answered Mr. Softly Bishop. "But before we go any further I'd perhaps better tell you a secret." His voice and his gaze dropped still lower. "She's a particularly fine girl, and it won't be my fault if I don't marry her. Not a word of course! Mum!" He turned away, while Mr. Prohack was devising a suitable response.
"Welcome to your old home. And do come with me to the buffet. You must be tired after your work," Mr. Prohack burst out in a bold, loud voice to Eliza, taking her away from his wife, whose nearly exhausted78 tact almost failed to hide her relief.
"I do hope you like the taste of my old home," Eliza answered. "My new house up the river is furnished throughout in real oriental red lacquer. You must come and see it."
"I should love to," said Mr. Prohack bravely.
"This is my little sister, Miss Fancy. Fan, Mr. Prohack."
Mr. Prohack expressed his enchantment79.
At the buffet Eliza did not refuse champagne, but Miss Fancy refused. "Now don't put on airs, Fan," Eliza reproved her sister heartily80 and drank off her glass while Mr. Prohack sipped81 his somewhat cautiously. He liked Eliza's reproof82. He was beginning even to like Eliza. To say that her style was coarse was to speak in moderation; but she was natural, and her individuality seemed to be sending out waves in all directions, by which all persons in the vicinity were affected whether they desired it or not. Mr. Prohack met Eliza's glance with satisfaction. She at any rate had nothing to learn about life that she was capable of learning. She knew everything—and was probably the only creature in the room who did. She had succeeded. She was adored—strangely enough. And she did not put on airs. Her original coarseness was apparently83 quite unobscured, whereas that of Miss Fancy had been not very skilfully84 painted over. Miss Fancy was a blonde, much younger than Eliza; also slimmer and more finickingly and luxuriously85 dressed and jewelled. But Mr. Prohack cared not for her. She was always keeping her restless inarticulate lips in order, buttoning them or sewing them up or caressing86 one with the other. Further, she looked down her nose; probably this trait was the secret lien87 between her and Mr. Softly Bishop. Mr. Prohack, despite a cloistral88 lifetime at the Treasury89, recognised her type immediately. She was of the type that wheedles90, but never permits itself to be wheedled91. And she was so pretty, and so simpering, and her blue eyes were so steely. And Mr. Prohack, in his original sinfulness, was pleased that she was thus. He felt that "it would serve Softly Bishop out." Not that Mr. Softly Bishop had done him any harm! Indeed the contrary. But he had an antipathy92 to Mr. Softly Bishop, and the spectacle of Mr. Softly Bishop biting off more than he could chew, of Mr. Softly Bishop being drawn93 to his doom94, afforded Mr. Prohack the most genuine pleasure. Unfortunately Mr. Prohack was one of the rare monsters who can contemplate95 with satisfaction the misfortunes of a fellow being.
Mr. Softly Bishop unostentatiously joined the sisters and Mr. Prohack.
"Better have just a sip," he said to Miss Fancy, when told by Eliza that the girl would not be sociable96. His eyes glimmered97 at her through his artful spectacles. She listened obediently to his low-voiced wisdom and sipped. She was shooting a million fascinations98 at him. Mr. Prohack decided99 that the ultimate duel100 between the two might be a pretty even thing after all; but he would put his money on the lady. And he had thought Mr. Softly Bishop so wily!
A fearful thought suddenly entered his mind: supposing the failure of the church-clock's striking powers should be only temporary; supposing it should recover under some verger's treatment, and strike twelve!
"Let's go into the conservatory and look at the Square," said he. "I always look at the Square at midnight, and it's nearly twelve now."
"You're the most peculiar man I ever met," said Eliza Fiddle, eyeing him uneasily.
"Very true," Mr. Prohack agreed.
"I'm half afraid of you."
"Very wise," said Mr. Prohack absently.
They crossed the rooms together, arousing keen interest in all beholders. And as they crossed Charlie entered the assemblage. He certainly had an extremely perturbed—or was it merely self-conscious—face. And just in front of him was Mimi Winstock, who looked as if she was escaping from the scene of a crime. Was Lady Massulam's warning about Charlie about to be justified101? Mr. Prohack's qualm was renewed. The very ground trembled for a second under his feet and then was solid and moveless again. No sooner had the quartette reached the conservatory than Eliza left it to go and discuss important affairs with Mr. Asprey Chown, who had summoned Ozzie to his elbow. They might not have seen one another for many years, and they might have been settling the fate of continents.
Mr. Prohack took out his watch, which showed a minute to twelve. He experienced a minute's agony. The clock did not strike.
"Well," said Mr. Softly Bishop, who during the minute had been whispering information about the historic Square to Miss Fancy, who hung with all her weight on his words, "Well, it's very interesting and even amusing, we three being alone here together isn't it?... The three heirs of the late Silas Angmering! How funny life is!" And he examined his nose with new curiosity.
All Mr. Prohack's skin tingled102, and his face flushed, as he realised that Miss Fancy was the mysterious third beneficiary under Angmering's will. Yes, she was in fact jewelled like a woman who had recently been handling a hundred thousand pounds or so. And Mr. Softly Bishop might be less fascinated by the steely blue eyes than Mr. Prohack had imagined. Mr. Softly Bishop might in fact win the duel. The question, however, had no interest for Mr. Prohack, who was absorbed in a sense of gloomy humiliation103. He rushed away from his co-heirs. He simply had to rush away right to bad.
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1
conspiring
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| 密谋( conspire的现在分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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stunts
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| n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 )；（广告中）引人注目的花招；愚蠢行为；危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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supplanted
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| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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abounded
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| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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sartorially
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17
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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grandiose
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| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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21
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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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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assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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razed
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| v.彻底摧毁，将…夷为平地( raze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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soothes
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| v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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29
grumbler
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| 爱抱怨的人，发牢骚的人 | |
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30
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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33
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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35
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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38
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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39
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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40
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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41
apogee
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| n.远地点；极点；顶点 | |
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42
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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43
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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44
denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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45
fictional
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| adj.小说的，虚构的 | |
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46
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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47
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
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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futility
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| n.无用 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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52
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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53
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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descried
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| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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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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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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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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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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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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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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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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81
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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86
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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lien
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| n.扣押权，留置权 | |
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cloistral
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| adj.修道院的，隐居的，孤独的 | |
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treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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90
wheedles
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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wheedled
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92
antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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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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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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97
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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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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100
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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101
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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102
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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