Dear Miss Manning:
I am a couple of miles out of Lukin, in a place to which the bearer of this note will bring you. I am sure you will come, for I am in trouble, out of which you can very easily help me. It is a matter which I cannot confide7 to any other person in Lukin. I am impatiently expecting you.
Ben Connor.
She crumpled8 the note in her hand thoughtfully, but, on the verge9 of dropping it in the waste basket, she smoothed it again, and for the third time went over the contents. Then she rose abruptly10 and confided11 her place to the lad who idled at the counter.
"The wire's dead," she told him. "Besides, I'll be back in an hour or so."
And she rode off a moment later with the boy. He had a blanket-pad without stirrups, and he kept prodding12 the sliding elbows of the horse with his bare toes while he chattered14 at Ruth, for the drum of the sounder had fascinated him and he wanted it explained. She listened to him with a smile of inattention, for she was thinking busily of Connor. Those thoughts made her look down to the dust that puffed16 up from the feet of the horses and became a light mist behind them; then, raising her head, she saw the blue ravines of the farther mountains and the sun haze17 about the crests18. Connor had always been to her as the ship is to a traveler; the glamour19 of strange places was about him.
Presently they left the trail, and passing about a hillside, came to an old shack20 whose unpainted wood had blackened with time.
"There he is," said the boy, and waving his hand to her, turned his pony21 on the back trail at a gallop22.
Connor called to her from the shack and came to meet her, but she had dismounted before he could reach the stirrup. He kept her hand in his for a moment as he greeted her. It surprised him to find how glad he was to see her. He told her so frankly23.
"After the mountains and all that," he said cheerfully, "it's like meeting an old chum again to see you. How have things been going?"
This direct friendliness24 in a young man was something new to the girl. The youths who came in to the dances at Lukin were an embarrassed lot who kept a sulky distance, as though they made it a matter of pride to show they were able to resist the attraction of a pretty girl. But if she gave them the least encouragement, the merest shadow of a friendly smile, they were at once all eagerness. They would flock around her, sending savage25 glances to one another, and simpering foolishly at her. They had stock conversation of politeness; they forced out prodigious26 compliments to an accompaniment of much writhing27. Social conversation was a torture to them, and the girl knew it.
Not that she despised them. She understood perfectly28 well that most of them were fine fellows and strong men. But their talents had been cultivated in roping two-year-olds and bulldogging yearlings. They could encounter the rush of a mad bull far more easily than they could withstand a verbal quip. With the familiarity of years, she knew, they lost both their sullenness29 and their starched30 politeness. They became kindly31, gentle men with infinite patience, infinite devotion to their "womenfolk." Homelier girls in Lukin had an easier time with them. But in the presence of Ruth Manning, who was a more or less celebrated32 beauty, they were a hopeless lot. In short, she had all her life been in an amphibious position, of the mountain desert and yet not of the mountain desert. On the one hand she despised the "slick dudes" who now and again drifted into Lukin with marvelous neckties and curiously33 patterned clothes; on the other hand, something in her revolted at the thought of becoming one of the "womenfolk."
As a matter of fact, there are two things which every young girl should have. The first is the presence of a mother, which is the oldest of truisms; the second is the friendship of at least one man of nearly her own age. Ruth had neither. That is the crying hurt of Western life. The men are too busy to bother with women until the need for a wife and a home and children, and all the physical destiny of a man, overwhelms them. When they reach this point there is no selection. The first girl they meet they make love to.
And most of this Ruth understood. She wanted to make some of those lumbering34, fearless, strong-handed, gentle-souled men her friends. But she dared not make the approaches. The first kind word or the first winning smile brought forth35 a volley of tremendous compliments, close on the heels of which followed the heavy artillery36 of a proposal of marriage. No wonder that she was rejoiced beyond words to meet this frank friendliness in Ben Connor. And what a joy to be able to speak back freely, without putting a guard over eyes and voice!
"Things have gone on just the same—but I've missed you a lot!"
"That's good to hear."
"You see," she explained, "I've been living in Lukin with just half a mind—the rest of it has been living off the wire. And you're about the only interesting thing that's come to me except in the Morse."
And what a happiness to see that there was no stiffening37 of his glance as he tried to read some profound meaning into her words! He accepted them as they were, with a good-natured laughter that warmed her heart.
"Sit down over here," he went on, spreading a blanket over a chairlike arrangement of two boulders38. "You look tired out."
She accepted with a smile, and letting her head go back against the upper edge of the blanket she closed her eyes for a moment and permitted her mind to drift into utter relaxation39.
"I am tired," she whispered. It was inexpressibly pleasant to lie there with the sense of being guarded by this man. "They never guess how tired I get—never—never! I feel—I feel—as if I were living under the whip all the time."
"Steady up, partner." He had picked up that word in the mountains, and he liked it. "Steady, partner. Everybody has to let himself go. You tell me what's wrong. I may not be able to fix anything, but it always helps to let off steam."
She heard him sit down beside her, and for an instant, though her eyes were still closed, she stiffened40 a little, fearful that he would touch her hand, attempt a caress41. Any other man in Lukin would have become familiar long ago. But Connor did not attempt to approach her.
"Turn and turn about," he was saying smoothly42. "When I went into your telegraph office the other night my nerves were in a knot. Tell you straight I never knew I had real nerves before. I went in ready to curse like a drunk. When I saw you, it straightened me out. By the Lord, it was like a cool wind in my face. You were so steady, Ruth; straight eyes; and it ironed out the wrinkles to hear your voice. I blurted44 out a lot of stuff. But when I remembered it later on I wasn't ashamed. I knew you'd understand. Besides, I knew that what I'd said would stop with you. Just about one girl in a million who can keep her mouth shut—and each one of 'em is worth her weight in gold. You did me several thousand dollars' worth of good that night. That's honest!"
She allowed her eyes to open, slowly, and looked at him with a misty45 content. The mountains had already done him good. The sharp sun had flushed him a little and tinted46 his cheeks and strong chin with tan. He looked more manly47, somehow, and stronger in himself. Of course he had flattered her, but the feeling that she had actually helped him so much by merely listening on that other night wakened in her a new self-reverence. She was too prone48 to look on life as a career of manlike endeavor; it was pleasant to know that a woman could accomplish something even more important by simply sitting still and listening. He was watching her gravely now, even though she permitted herself the luxury of smiling at him.
All at once she cried softly: "Thank Heaven that you're not a fool, Ben Connor!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't think I can tell you." She added hastily: "I'm not trying to be mysterious."
He waved the need of an apology away.
"Tell you what. Never knew a girl yet that was worth her salt who could be understood all the time, or who even understood herself."
She closed her eyes again to ponder this, lazily. She could not arrive at a conclusion, but she did not care. Missing links in this conversation were not vitally important.
"Take it easy, Ruth; we'll talk later on," he said after a time.
She did not look at him as she answered: "Tell me why?"
There was a sort of childlike confiding49 in all this that troubled Ben Connor. He had seen her with a mind as direct and an enthusiasm as strong as that of a man. This relaxing and softening50 alarmed him, because it showed him another side of her, a new and vital side. She was very lovely with the shadows of the sombrero brim cutting across the softness of her lips and setting aglow51 the clear olive tan of her chin and throat. Her hand lay palm upward beside her, very small, very delicate in the making. But what a power was in that hand! He realized with a thrill of not unmixed pleasure that if the girl set herself to the task she could mold him like wax with the gestures of that hand. If into the softness of her voice she allowed a single note of warmth to creep, what would happen in Ben Connor? He felt within himself a chord ready to vibrate in answer.
Now he caught himself leaning a little closer to study the purple stain of weariness in her eyelids. Even exhaustion52 was attractive in her. It showed something new, and newly appealing. Weariness gave merely a new edge to her beauty. What if her eyes, opening slowly now, were to look upon him not with the gentleness of friendship, but with something more—the little shade of difference in a girl's wide eyes that admits a man to her secrets—and traps him in so doing.
Ben Connor drew himself up with a shake of the shoulders. He felt that he must keep careful guard from now on. What a power she was. What a power! If she set herself to the task who could deal with her? What man could keep from her? Then the picture of David jumped into his mind out of nothingness. And on the heels of that picture the inspiration came with a sudden uplifting of the heart, surety, intoxicating53 insight. He wanted to jump to his feet and shout until the great ravine beneath them echoed. With an effort he remained quiet. But he was thinking rapidly—rapidly. He had intended to use her merely to arrange for shipping54 Shakra away from Lukin Junction55. For he dared not linger about the town where expert horse thieves might see the mare56. But now something new, something more came to him. The girl was a power? Why not use her?
What he said was: "Do you know why you close your eyes?"
Still without looking up she answered: "Why?"
"All of these mountains—you see?" She did not see, so he went on to describe them. "There's that big peak opposite us. Looks a hundred yards away, but it's two miles. Comes down in big jags and walks up into the sky—Lord knows how many thousand feet. And behind it the other ranges stepping off into the horizon with purple in the gorges57 and mist at the tops. Fine picture, eh? But hard to look at, Ruth. Mighty58 hard to look at. First thing you know you get to squinting59 to make out whether that's a cactus61 on the side of that mountain or a hundred-foot pine tree. Might be either. Can't tell the distance in this air. Well, you begin to squint60. That's how the people around here get that long-distance look behind their eyes and the long-distance wrinkles around the corners of their eyes. All the men have those wrinkles. But the women have them, too, after a while. You'll get them after a while, Ruth. Wrinkles around the eyes and wrinkles in the mind to match, eh?"
Her eyes opened at last, slowly, slowly. She smiled at him plaintively62.
"Don't I know, Ben? It's a man's country. It isn't made for woman."
"Ah, there you've hit the nail on the head. Exactly! A man's country. Do you know what it does to the women?"
"Tell me."
"Makes 'em like the men. Hardens their hands after a while. Roughens their voices. Takes time, but that's what comes after a while. Understand?"
"Oh, don't I understand!"
And he knew how the fear had haunted her, then, for the first time.
"What does this dry, hot wind do to you in the mountains? What does it do to your skin? Takes the velvet63 off, after a while; makes it dry and hard. Lord, girl, I'd hate to see the change it's going to make in you!"
All at once she sat up, wide awake.
"What are you trying to do to me, Ben Connor?"
"I'm trying to wake you up."
"I am awake. But what can I do?"
"You think you're awake, but you're not. Tell you what a girl needs, a stage—just like an actor. Think they can put on a play with these mountains for a setting? Never in the world. Make the actors look too small. Make everything they say sound too thin.
"Same way with a girl. She needs a setting. A room, a rug, a picture, a comfortable chair, and a dress that goes with it. Shuts out the rest of the world and gives her a chance to make a man focus on her—see her behind the footlights. See?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Do you know what I've been doing while I watched you just now?"
"Tell me."
He was fighting for a great purpose now, and a quality of earnest emotion crept into his voice. "Around your throat I've been running an edging of yellow old lace. Under your hand that was lying there I put a deep blue velvet; I had your shoulders as white as snow, with a flash to 'em like snow when you turned in the light; I had you proud as a queen, Ruth, with a blur43 of violets at your breast. I took out the tired look in your face. Instead, I put in happiness."
He stopped and drew a long breath.
"You're pretty now, but you could be—beautiful. Lord, what a flame of a beauty you could be, girl!"
Instead of flushing and smiling under the praise, he saw tears well into her eyes and her mouth grow tremulous. She winked64 the tears away.
"What are you trying to do, Ben? Make everything still harder for me? Don't you see I'm helpless—helpless?"
"Oh, you're trapped well enough," he said. "I'm going to bust66 the trap! I'm going to give you your setting. I'm going to make you what you ought to be—beautiful!"
She smiled as at any unreal fairy tale.
"How?"
"I can show you better than I can tell you! Come here!" He rose, and she was on her feet in a flash. He led the way to the door of the shack, and as the shadows fell inside, Shakra tossed up her head.
The girl's bewildered joy was as great as if the horse were a present to her.
"Oh, you beauty, you beauty," she cried.
"Watch yourself," he warned. "She's as wild as a mountain lion."
"But she knows a friend!"
Shakra sniffed67 the outstretched hand, and then with a shake of her head accepted the stranger and looked over Ruth's shoulder at Connor as though for an explanation. Connor himself was smiling and excited; he drew her back and forgot to release her hand, so that they stood like two happy children together. He spoke68 very softly and rapidly, as though he feared to embarrass the mare.
"Look at the head first—then the bone in the foreleg, then the length above her back—see how she stands! See how she stands! And those black hoofs69, hard as iron, I tell you—put the four of 'em in my double hands, almost—ever see such a nick? But she's no six furlong flash! That chest, eh? Run your finger-tips down that shoulder!"
She turned with tears of pleasure in her eyes. "Ben Connor, you've been in the valley of the grays!"
"I have. And do you know what it means to us?"
"To us?"
"I said it. I mean it. You're going to share."
"I—"
"Look at that mare again!"
She obeyed.
"Say something, Ruth!"
"I can't say what I feel!"
"Then try to understand this: you're looking at the fastest horse that ever stepped into a race track. You understand? I'm not speaking in comparisons. I'm talking the cold dope! Here's a pony that could have given Salvator twenty pounds, run him sick in six furlongs, and walked away to the finish by herself. Here's a mare that could pick up a hundred and fifty pounds and beat the finest horse that ever faced a barrier with a fly-weight jockey in the saddle. You're looking at history, girl! Look again! You're looking at a cold million dollars. You're looking at the blood that's going to change the history of the turf. That's what Shakra means!"
She was trembling with his excitement.
"I see. It's the sure thing you were talking about. The horse that can't be beat—that makes the betting safe?"
But Connor grew gloomy at once.
"What do you mean by sure thing? If I could ever get her safely away from the post in a stake race, yes; sure as anything on earth. But suppose the train is wrecked70? Suppose she puts a foot in a hole? Suppose at the post some rotten, cheap-selling plater kicks her and lays her up!"
He passed a trembling hand along the neck of Shakra.
"God, suppose!"
"But you only brought one; nothing else worth while in the valley?"
"Nothing else? I tell you, the place is full of 'em! And there's a stallion as much finer than Shakra as she's finer than that broken-down, low-headed, ewe-necked, straight-shouldered, roach-backed skate you have out yonder!"
"Mr. Connor, that's the best little pony in Lukin! But I know—compared with this—oh, to see her run, just once!"
She sighed, and as her glance fell Connor noted71 her pallor and her weariness. She looked up again, and the great eyes filled her face with loveliness. Color, too, came into her cheeks and into her parted lips.
"You beauty!" she murmured. "You perfect, perfect beauty!"
Shakra was nervous under the fluttering hands, but in spite of her uneasiness she seemed to enjoy the light-falling touches until the finger-tips trailed across her forehead; then she tossed her head high, and the girl stood beneath, laughing, delighted. Connor found himself smiling in sympathy. The two made a harmonious72 picture. As harmonious, say, as the strength of Glani and the strength of David Eden. His face grew tense with it when he drew the girl away.
"Would you like to have a horse like that—half a dozen like it?"
"And everything else you've ever wanted: beautiful clothes? Manhattan? A limousine74 as big as a house. A butler behind your chair and a maid in your dressing75 room? A picture in the papers every time you turn around? You want 'em?"
"Do I want heaven?"
"How much will you pay?"
He urged it on her, towering over her as he drew close.
"What's it worth? Is it worth a fight?"
"It's worth—everything."
"I'm talking shop. I'm talking business. Will you play partners with me?"
"To the very end."
"The big deaf-mute doesn't own the grays in that valley they call the Garden of Eden. They're owned by a white man. They call him David Eden. And David Eden has never been out in the world. It's part of his creed76 not to. It's part of his creed, however, to go out just once, find a woman for his wife, and bring her back with him. Is that clear?"
"I—"
"You're to go up there. That old gray gelding we saw in Lukin the day of the race. I'll finance you to the sky. Ride it to the gates of the Garden of Eden. Tell the guards that you've got to have another horse because the one you own is old. Insist on seeing David. Smile at 'em; win 'em over. Make them let you see David. And the minute you see him, he's ours! You understand? I don't mean marriage. One smile will knock him stiff. Then play him. Get him to follow you out of the valley. Tell him you have to go back home. He'll follow you. Once we have him outside you can keep him from going back and you can make him bring out his horses, too. Easy? It's a sure thing! We don't rob him, you see? We simply use his horses. I race them and play them. I split the winnings with you and David. Millions, I tell you; millions. Don't answer. Gimme a chance to talk!"
There was a rickety old box leaning against the wall; he made her sit on it, and dropping upon one knee, he poured out plan, reason, hopes, ambitions in fierce confusion. It ended logically enough. David was under what he considered a divine order to marry, and he would be clay in the hands of the first girl who met him. She would be a fool indeed if she were not able to lead him out of the valley.
"Think it over for one minute before you answer," concluded Connor, and then rose and folded his arms. He controlled his very breathing for fear of breaking in on the dream which he saw forming in her eyes.
Then she shook herself clear of the temptation.
"God A'mighty, girl! Don't you see that we'd be doing the poor fathead a good turn by getting him out of his hermitage and letting him live in the world? A lie? Call it that if you want. Aren't there such things as white lies? If there are, this is one of 'em or I'm not Ben Connor."
His voice softened78. "Why, Ruth, you know damned well that I wouldn't put the thing up to you if I didn't figure that in the end it would be the best thing in the world for you? I'm giving you your chance. To save Dave Eden from being a fossil. To earn your own freedom. To get everything you've longed for. Think!"
"I'm trying to think—but I only keep feeling, inside, 'It's wrong! It's wrong! It's wrong!' I'm not a moralizer, but—tell me about David Eden!"
Connor saw his opening.
"Think of a horse that's four years old and never had a bit in his teeth. That's David Eden. The minute you see him you'll want to tame him. But you'll have to go easy. Keep gloves on. He's as proud as a sulky kid. Kind of a chap you can't force a step, but you could coax79 him over a cliff. Why, he'd be thread for you to wind around your little finger if you worked him right. But it wouldn't be easy. If he had a single suspicion he'd smash everything in a minute, and he's strong enough to tear down a house. Put the temper of a panther in the size of a bear and you get a small idea of David Eden."
He was purposely making the task difficult and he saw that she was excited. His own work with Ruth Manning was as difficult as hers would be with David. The fickle80 color left her all at once and he found her looking wistfully at him.
She returned neither answer, argument, nor comment. In vain he detailed81 each step of her way into the Garden and how she could pass the gate. Sometimes he was not even sure that she heard him, as she listened to the silent voice which spoke against him. He had gathered all his energy for a last outburst, he was training his tongue for a convincing storm of eloquence82, when Shakra, as though she wearied of all this human chatter13, pushed in between them her beautiful head and went slowly toward Ruth with pricking83 ears, inquisitive84, searching for those light, caressing85 touches.
"Look at her, Ruth. Look at her. She's begging you to come. You can have her. She'll be a present to you. Quick! What's the answer!"
A strange answer! She threw her arms around the shoulder of the beautiful gray, buried her face in the mane, and burst into tears.
For a moment Connor watched her, dismayed, but presently, as one satisfied, he withdrew to the open air and mopped his forehead. It had been hard work, but it had paid. He looked over the distant blue waves of mountains with the eye of possession.
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1
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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calloused
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| adj.粗糙的，粗硬的，起老茧的v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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prodding
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| v.刺，戳( prod的现在分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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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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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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sullenness
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| n. 愠怒, 沉闷, 情绪消沉 | |
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starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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36
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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37
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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38
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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40
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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47
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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50
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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51
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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54
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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68
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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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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72
harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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limousine
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| n.豪华轿车 | |
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75
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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77
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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78
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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79
coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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80
fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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81
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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82
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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83
pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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84
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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85
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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86
insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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