“If you got to bring her here to the races, can’t you get her some clothes?” whispered Stull in his ear. “That get-up of hers is something fierce.”
Late hours, hot weather, indiscreet nourishment3, and the feverish4 anxiety incident to betting other people’s money had told on Stull. His eyes were like two smears5 of charcoal6 on his pasty face; sourly he went about the business which Brandes should have attended to, nursing resentment—although he was doing better than Brandes had hoped to do.
Their joint7 commission from his winnings began to assume considerable proportions; at track and club and hotel people were beginning to turn and stare when the little man with the face of a sick circus clown appeared, always alone, greeting with pallid8 indifference9 his acquaintances, ignoring overtures10, noticing neither sport, nor fashion, nor political importance, nor yet the fair and frail11 whose curiosity and envy he was gradually arousing.
Obsequiousness12 from club, hotel, and racing officials made no impression on him; he went about his business alone, sullen13, preoccupied14, deathly pale, asking no information, requesting no favours, conferring with nobody, doing no whispering and enduring none.81
After a little study of that white, sardonic15, impossible face, people who would have been glad to make use of him became discouraged. And those who first had recognised him in Saratoga found, at the end of the racing month, nothing to add to their general identification of him as “Ben Stull, partner of Eddie Brandes—Western sports.”
Stull, whispering in Brandes’ ear again, where he sat beside him in the grand stand, added to his earlier comment on Ruhannah’s appearance:
“Why don’t you fix her up, Eddie? It looks like you been robbing a country school.”
Brandes’ slow, greenish eyes marked sleepily the distant dust, where Mr. Sanford’s Nick Stoner was leading a brilliant field, steadily16 overhauling17 the favourite, Deborah Glenn.
“When the time comes for me to fix her up,” he said between thin lips which scarcely moved, “she’ll look like Washington Square in May—not like Fifth Avenue and Broadway.”
Nick Stoner continued to lead. Stull’s eyes resembled two holes burnt in a sheet; Brandes yawned. They were plunging18 the limit on the Sanford favourite.
As for Ruhannah, she sat with slender gloved hands tightly clasped, lips parted, intent, fascinated with the sunlit beauty of the scene.
Brandes looked at her, and his heavy, expressionless features altered subtly:
“Some running!” he said.
A breathless nod was her response. All around them repressed excitement was breaking out; men stood up and shouted; women rose, and the club house seemed 82suddenly to blossom like a magic garden of wind-tossed flowers.
Through the increasing cheering Stull looked on without a sign of emotion, although affluence19 or ruin, in the Sanford colours, sat astride the golden roan.
Suddenly Ruhannah stood up, one hand pressed to the ill-fitting blue serge over her wildly beating heart. Brandes rose beside her. Not a muscle in his features moved.
“Gawd!” whispered Stull in his ear, as they were leaving.
“Some killing20, Ben!” nodded Brandes in his low, deliberate voice. His heavy, round face was deeply flushed; Fortune, the noisy wanton, had flung both arms around his neck. But his slow eyes were continually turned on the slim young girl whom he was teaching to walk beside him without taking his arm.
“Ain’t she on to us?” Stull had enquired21. And Brandes’ reply was correct; Ruhannah never dreamed that it made a penny’s difference to Brandes whether Nick Stoner won or whether it was Deborah Glenn which the wild-voiced throng22 saluted23.
They did not remain in Saratoga for dinner. They took Stull back to his hotel on the rumble24 of the runabout, Brandes remarking that he thought he should need a chauffeur25 before long and suggesting that Stull look about Saratoga for a likely one.
Halted in the crush before the United States Hotel, Stull decided26 to descend27 there. Several men in the passing crowds bowed to Brandes; one, Norton Smawley, known to the fraternity as “Parson” Smawley, came out to the curb28 to shake hands. Brandes 83introduced him to Rue29 as “Parson” Smawley—whether with some sinister30 future purpose already beginning to take shape in his round, heavy head, or whether a perverted31 sense of humour prompted him to give Rue the idea that she had been in godly company, it is difficult to determine.
He added that Miss Carew was the daughter of a clergyman and a missionary32. And the Parson took his cue. At any rate Rue, leaning from her seat, listened to the persuasive33 and finely modulated34 voice of Parson Smawley with pleasure, and found his sleek35, graceful36 presence and courtly manners most agreeable. There were no such persons in Gayfield.
She hoped, shyly, that if he were in Gayfield he would call on her father. Once in a very long while clergymen called on her father, and their rare visits remained a pleasure to the lonely invalid37 for months.
The Parson promised to call, very gravely. It would not have embarrassed him to do so; it was his business in life to have a sufficient knowledge of every man’s business to enable him to converse38 convincingly with anybody.
He took polished leave of her; took leave of Brandes with the faintest flutter of one eyelid39, as though he understood Brandes’ game. Which he did not; nor did Brandes himself, entirely40.
They had thirty miles to go in the runabout. So they would not remain to dinner. Besides, Brandes did not care to make himself conspicuous41 in public just then. Too many people knew more or less about him—the sort of people who might possibly be in communication with his wife. There was no use slapping chance in the face. Two quiet visits to the races with Ruhannah 84was enough for the present. Even those two visits were scarcely discreet2. It was time to go.
Stull and Brandes stood consulting together beside the runabout; Rue sat in the machine watching the press of carriages and automobiles42 on Broadway, and the thronged43 sidewalks along which brilliant, animated44 crowds were pouring.
“I’m not coming again, Ben,” said Brandes, dropping his voice. “No use to hunt the limelight just now. You can’t tell what some of these people might do. I’ll take no chances that some fresh guy might try to start something.”
“Stir up Minna?” Stull’s lips merely formed the question, and his eyes watched Ruhannah.
“They couldn’t. What would she care? All the same, I play safe, Ben. Well, be good. Better send me mine on pay day. I’ll need it.”
Stull’s face grew sourer:
“Can’t you wait till she gets her decree?”
“And lose a month off? No.”
“It’s all coming your way, Eddie. Stay wise and play safe. Don’t start anything now––”
“It’s safe. If I don’t take September off I wait a year for my—honeymoon. And I won’t. See?”
They both looked cautiously at Ruhannah, who sat motionless, absorbed in the turmoil45 of vehicles and people.
Brandes’ face slowly reddened; he dropped one hand on Stull’s shoulder and said, between thin lips that scarcely moved:
“She’s all I’m interested in. You don’t think much of her, Ben. She isn’t painted. She isn’t dolled up the way you like ’em. But there isn’t anything else that matters very much to me. All I want in the world is 85sitting in that runabout, looking out of her kid eyes at a thousand or two people who ain’t worth the pair of run-down shoes she’s wearing.”
But Stull’s expression remained sardonic and unconvinced.
So Brandes got into his car and took the wheel; and Stull watched them threading a tortuous46 path through the traffic tangle47 of Broadway.
They sped past the great hotels, along crowded sidewalks, along the park, and out into an endless stretch of highway where hundreds of other cars were travelling in the same direction.
“Did you have a good time?” he inquired, shifting his cigar and keeping his narrow eyes on the road.
“Yes; it was beautiful—exciting.”
“Some horse, Nick Stoner! Some race, eh?”
“I was so excited—with everybody standing48 up and shouting. And such beautiful horses—and such pretty women in their wonderful dresses! I—I never knew there were such things.”
He swung the car, sent it rushing past a lumbering49 limousine50, slowed a little, gripped his cigar between his teeth, and watched the road, both hands on the wheel.
Yes, things were coming his way—coming faster and faster all the while. He had waited many years for this—for material fortune—for that chance which every gambler waits to seize when the psychological second ticks out. But he never had expected that the chance was to include a very young girl in a country-made dress and hat.
As they sped westward51 the freshening wind from distant pine woods whipped their cheeks; north, blue hills and bluer mountains beyond took fairy shape against the sky; and over all spread the tremendous heavens 86where fleets of white clouds sailed the uncharted wastes, and other fleets glimmered52 beyond the edges of the world, hull53 down, on vast horizons.
“I want to make you happy,” said Brandes in his low, even voice. It was, perhaps, the most honest statement he had ever uttered.
It was a week later, one hot evening, that he telegraphed to Stull in Saratoga:
“Find me a chauffeur who will be willing to go abroad. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get him here.”
The next morning he called up Stull on the telephone from the drug store in Gayfield:
“Get my wire, Ben?”
“Yes. But I––”
“Wait. Here’s a postscript55. I also want Parson Smawley. I want him to get a car and come over to the Gayfield House. Tell him I count on him. And he’s to wear black and a white tie.”
“Yes. But about that chauffeur you want––”
“Don’t argue. Have him here. Have the Parson, also. Tell him to bring a white tie. Understand?”
“Oh, yes, I understand you, Eddie! You don’t want anything of me, do you! Go out and get that combination? Just like that! What’ll I do? Step into the street and whistle?”
“It’s up to you. Get busy.”
“As usual,” retorted Stull in an acrid56 voice. “All the same. I’m telling you there ain’t a chauffeur you’d have in Saratoga. Who handed you that dope?”
“Try. I need the chauffeur part of the combine, 87anyway. If he won’t go abroad, I’ll leave him in town. Get a wiggle on, Ben. How’s things?”
“All right. We had War-axe and Lady Johnson. Some killing, eh? That stable is winning all along. We’ve got Adriutha and Queen Esther today. The Ocean Belle57 skate is scratched. Doc and Cap and me is thick with the Legislature outfit58. We’ll trim ’em tonight. How are you feeling, Eddie?”
“Never better. I’ll call you up in the morning. Ding-dong!”
“Wait! Are you really going abroad?” shouted Stull.
But Brandes had already hung up.
He walked leisurely59 back to Brookhollow through the sunshine. He had never been as happy in all his life.
点击收听单词发音
1 racing | |
n.竞赛,赛马;adj.竞赛用的,赛马用的 | |
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2 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
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3 nourishment | |
n.食物,营养品;营养情况 | |
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4 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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5 smears | |
污迹( smear的名词复数 ); 污斑; (显微镜的)涂片; 诽谤 | |
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6 charcoal | |
n.炭,木炭,生物炭 | |
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7 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
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8 pallid | |
adj.苍白的,呆板的 | |
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9 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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10 overtures | |
n.主动的表示,提议;(向某人做出的)友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 );(歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的)序曲,前奏曲 | |
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11 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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12 obsequiousness | |
媚骨 | |
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13 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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14 preoccupied | |
adj.全神贯注的,入神的;被抢先占有的;心事重重的v.占据(某人)思想,使对…全神贯注,使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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15 sardonic | |
adj.嘲笑的,冷笑的,讥讽的 | |
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16 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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17 overhauling | |
n.大修;拆修;卸修;翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 );大修;赶上;超越 | |
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18 plunging | |
adj.跳进的,突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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19 affluence | |
n.充裕,富足 | |
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20 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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21 enquired | |
打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 ); 询问; 问问题; 查问 | |
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22 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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23 saluted | |
v.欢迎,致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 );赞扬,赞颂 | |
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24 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
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25 chauffeur | |
n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机;v.为…开车 | |
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26 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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27 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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28 curb | |
n.场外证券市场,场外交易;vt.制止,抑制 | |
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29 rue | |
n.懊悔,芸香,后悔;v.后悔,悲伤,懊悔 | |
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30 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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31 perverted | |
adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 );腐蚀;败坏;使堕落 | |
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32 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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33 persuasive | |
adj.有说服力的,能说得使人相信的 | |
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34 modulated | |
已调整[制]的,被调的 | |
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35 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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36 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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37 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
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38 converse | |
vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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39 eyelid | |
n.眼睑,眼皮 | |
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40 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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41 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
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42 automobiles | |
n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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43 thronged | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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45 turmoil | |
n.骚乱,混乱,动乱 | |
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46 tortuous | |
adj.弯弯曲曲的,蜿蜒的 | |
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47 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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48 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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49 lumbering | |
n.采伐林木 | |
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50 limousine | |
n.豪华轿车 | |
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51 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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52 glimmered | |
v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53 hull | |
n.船身;(果、实等的)外壳;vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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54 riveted | |
铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 ); 把…固定住; 吸引; 引起某人的注意 | |
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55 postscript | |
n.附言,又及;(正文后的)补充说明 | |
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56 acrid | |
adj.辛辣的,尖刻的,刻薄的 | |
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57 belle | |
n.靓女 | |
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58 outfit | |
n.(为特殊用途的)全套装备,全套服装 | |
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59 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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