Oppressive dusk was drooping1 as Mr. Tuke came in sight of the lonely tavern2 on the downs. The inconsistent moodiness3 of autumn had fallen into another humour as the day declined. The steely thrust of wind at night—a morning cold and fair and pure, such as ever seems an earnest of weeks of serene4 tranquillity—and then, as noon ticked into evening, a dull fall in the barometer5, and gathering6 battalions7 of clouds rolling to the front, with a noise of rumbling8 in them like the labouring wheels of gun-carriages—such was the record of twenty-four hours.
Glancing with frowning eyes, at the little forlorn building livid above him against a wall of menacing purple, the horseman pricked9 his nag10 to the slight ascent11, and, clattering12 up to the inn door, flung himself out of the saddle and looped his reins13 to a ring set in the lintel-post.
Straightway he crossed the threshold, and turning sharply to the left, found himself in the room of the bay-window and the tap of the “Dog and Duck.”
Not a soul was in it—no sign of life, but, somewhere, a distant murmuring of voices.
It was a paltry14 little shop, with a pewtered counter, and under it, on the customer-side, a ditch or groove15 set in the floor and filled with sawdust for obvious purposes. A few beer-barrels; a squat16 flask17 or two of schiedam on a shelf; some common earthenware18 mugs, white with a blue band, and bearing the excise19 stamp on a tin bottom—these were the important features of the bar. Above the latter, from a blackened beam, hung a great ship’s lantern, eloquent21 of rancid oil; and to the back was a glazed23 door leading into a room no larger than a cabin, in which a little fire blinked a red eye like a drowsy24 watch-dog.
Mr. Tuke—fingering in the pocket of his riding-coat the butt25 of a duelling pistol, loaded and primed—rapped on the counter with his riding-whip.
Listening, he was conscious of a sudden cessation of the murmuring sounds—of an appreciable26 pause; and then a door opened gently, and somebody came into the bar-parlour. This new-comer, whoever he was—for he took stock in the dusk without showing himself—seemed to go out softly again after a moment’s scrutiny27; and following his exit, the other was dimly aware of the sounds again, but more subdued28, and broken with an intermittent29 cough that was like suppressed laughter.
He rapped again, and immediately the door was opened a second time, but now with an air of business; a heavy step shuffled31 across the cabin, and the landlord appeared at the glazed door.
Mr. Breeds was not the Mr. Breeds of a former experience. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and was here the master of everything but himself. In illustration of this, his puffed32 and heated face bore an expression of boldness that was entirely33 the painting of strong waters. Tipsy, he was a cumbrous changeling, with just a sufficiency of humour to be insolent34.
He drew the red tip of his “churchwarden” so far out of the corner of his mouth as to allow passage to a question fired awry35 in a spit of smoke.
“What d’ye call for?”
“I want nothing but a word with you. It’s this. Do you know who I am?”
“That’s well. Now listen. There’s Winton, a city fifteen miles off, and a fast gaol38 in it. Men lie by the heels there for lesser39 crimes than housebreaking, and hang, too.”
“I dare say, sir—I dare say,” quoth he, in a jerking voice. “And how do that concern me?”
“You know best. Maybe you have taken me for one of your pugmill squireens with blinkers to his head. You’d better cleanse41 your brain on that point. I see and I hear, Mr. Breeds, and I’m dangerous to meddle42 with. You understand me—yes, you do.”
The landlord dropped his pipe on the floor, and cried abjectly—
“Sir—Mr. Tuke! In the Lord’s name, what d’ye accuse me of?”
“Of nothing, of course. I warn you—that’s enough.”
“But, sir——”
“Mr. Breeds, Mr. Breeds!”—he shook a threatening finger at him—“let me advise you to take a fair hint and meditate45 on it. You consort46 with blackguards, sir; you harbour ruffians. Shall I connect this or not with signs and sounds and visits that have disturbed me of late?”
“I am an innkeeper, sir,” said the other sullenly47. “I’m not to pick or choose where custom offers. Let the law look after its own. I stand upon my rights.”
“Aye, aye; that’s boor’s English for treading on other people’s corns.”
He turned to go, daring a retort with the tail of his eye. On the threshold he paused. A sinister48 little laugh had reached him from the bowels49 of the house. In a moment he strode back, fierce and lowering.
“You have company in the inn now. Where do they sit?”
The landlord did not answer; but, in the gathering darkness of the tap, there was a sound as if his teeth chattered50.
Without another word, Tuke stepped into the passage, and stood listening. All was silent; but somewhere to the rear of the building a thread of light broke the run of the panelling almost from ceiling to floor. For this thread he made, and coming plump against a door, burst it open and half fell into a long dimly-lighted room with a trestle-table set in the middle of it.
Recovering himself, he stood at instant guard. The light of a couple of oil-lamps on the wall swam in his eyes and blinded him for a moment. Then his vision cleared, and he saw his company—two men seated at the table, and one who stood by a half-closed door to his left.
The room was full of tobacco-smoke, and a reeking51 smell of warm hollands hung in the air like a sickly dew.
“Charge your rummers, gentlemen!” said some one in a thin nasal voice. It was such a queerly weak and ineffective voice, that despite a certain awkwardness in his situation, the intruder could not forbear fixing his eyes on the speaker with a start of wonder.
Then he recognized him at once. It was the squab white-haired man, with a face like a hip20, whom he had seen at lounge on the window-sill.
Him he had expected to find; nor much less the gentleman like a decayed schoolmaster, whom he had happened on a-fishing, and who sat next to the other.
“Mr. Joseph Corby should be the third,” thought he; and sure enough it was Joe who stood by the door.
Now, not the least embarrassing part of the business was that his entrance, with a face set to any contingency52, was to all appearance accepted by the company as in the natural order of custom. No one fell awkward over it, or assumed an air as of resenting his presence.
He hesitated a moment, then sat himself down in a chair opposite the two men.
“A dull evening, gentlemen,” said he; “with promise of a dirty night.”
“The more fortunate we, sir, for being under cover,” he said.
One would have taken the persistent54 strain of speech to account for his apoplectic55 hue56. If he were a rogue, he had none of the melodramatic hall-marks. His face, possibly from its consuming colour, was as expressionless as a brick, and his eyes, under their ragged57 brows, gleamed like cold and passionless agates58.
“Fortunate, as you say,” said Mr. Tuke; “the more as it is like to stay midnight skulkers from disturbing the rest of peaceable folk.”
“Quite so, quite so, though I don’t trace the connection—eh, Brander?”
The sardonic59 fisherman, his arms folded, had been watching the new-comer from under covert60 brows. He gave a little contemptuous laugh.
“Perhaps the gentleman is a sufferer from nerves,” said he.
“No,” said Tuke coolly, “I don’t think I am. I have full confidence in myself and in my defences. It is my way to strike at an annoyance61 before I examine it, as I would at any unaccustomed beast that ran across my path.”
“An excellent principle, sir. Impulse is a much-maligned factor in our system. Second thoughts are second-best thoughts too often. Landlord, is our supper served?”
“’Tis on the table, Mr. Fern,” came the answer, somewhere from the darkness of the bar.
Both men rose, and Mr. Tuke with them. He felt desperately62 the utter ineffectiveness of the situation. How could he, on a shadow of circumstantial evidence, throw their presumed roguery in the teeth of a couple of strangers merely because they had put up at a wayside tavern? A sort of dull fury worked in his heart. What had his impulsive63 visit gained him but present isolation64 in the midst of a dangerous company?
Without, the storm had broken; the slam of thunder shook the lonely house; the lightning fought for mastery in the room with the smoking oil-lamps, and prevailed, painting all faces with a violet glaze22.
“That man,” said he, pointing at the genial65 Joseph, and wild to bring an edge to circumstance—“does he sup with you?”
“Surely, sir,” said Mr. Fern, pausing with an expression of extreme surprise.
“Ah! I recognize him as the fellow who applied66 to me for the post of gardener. You are well-suited for company, gentlemen.”
“He waits on us, sir—he waits on us. Joseph, is this true that I hear—that, unknown to me, you seek another service?”
“Yes,” said the man, with a grin. “If I could better myself I would.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Fern, with mild severity, “this must not occur again, Joseph. I sanction no such underhand proceedings67. If you are dissatisfied with your position, tell me so plainly, and you are welcome to go seek a less indulgent master.”
“Oh, I’m all right, Mr. Fern!”
The other turned benevolently68 to the perplexed69 baronet. Throughout, the man Brander had stood silent, his hands thrust into his pockets, his hat pulled over his eyes, a slight grin creasing70 his parchment jaws71.
“I must call your interest in me and my affairs unaccountable, sir,” said the former gravely; “but it is no doubt to be attributed to purely72 friendly motives73.”
He bowed cumbrously, signified to Joseph to go before, and passed out with his other companion into the passage, closing the door gently to behind him.
Left to himself, Mr. Tuke stood for a moment dumfounded and quite at a loss as to what to do next. Then, with a quick, impatient exclamation74, he flung himself into a chair before the hearth75.
Why did he wait on at all? He told himself that it was for a lull76 in the storm that crashed and bellowed77 overhead. All the same he knew that he delayed going for the reason that makes men linger out a fruitless suit—because he impotently hoped for some anti-climax to justify78 his action.
Presently, rising from a fog of perplexity, he pulled with violence a bell-rope that hung near him. The landlord himself answered the summons, and immediately.
“Bring me a bottle of port,” said the visitor; and added suggestively, “uncorked.”
Mr. Breeds accepted the order, with some unintelligible79 response; vanished, brought back the wine and a glass, and offered the bottle to the other’s inspection80.
“Good. Open it and go.”
There was no fire in the grate before him, but a bundle of the towy stuff known as “crinoline”; and this, as the wind moaned down the chimney, heaved and pulsed like a thing that breathed very silently. After a time this stealthy, life-like action wrought82 a certain uneasiness in him. He filled another glass, drained it, and glanced with a growing sickness of alarm at the palpitating mass. Good God! it was swelling83, writhing84 in monstrous85 and unnatural86 motion! He tried to shriek87 out. His voice had left him. He could hear it very faint and agonized88 fifty miles away. He struggled to rise to his feet. The thing was out of the fire-place now—climbing his knees—lapping him in, overwhelming him from foot to throat.
With a liquid grunt89, that rang in his own congested brain like his dying yell, he sank down in a heap and into immediate30 unconsciousness.
点击收听单词发音
1 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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2 tavern | |
n.小旅馆,客栈;小酒店 | |
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3 moodiness | |
n.喜怒无常;喜怒无常,闷闷不乐;情绪 | |
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4 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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5 barometer | |
n.气压表,睛雨表,反应指标 | |
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6 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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7 battalions | |
n.(陆军的)一营(大约有一千兵士)( battalion的名词复数 );协同作战的部队;军队;(组织在一起工作的)队伍 | |
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8 rumbling | |
n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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9 pricked | |
刺,扎,戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 ); 刺伤; 刺痛; 使剧痛 | |
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10 nag | |
v.(对…)不停地唠叨;n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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11 ascent | |
n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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12 clattering | |
发出咔哒声(clatter的现在分词形式) | |
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13 reins | |
感情,激情; 缰( rein的名词复数 ); 控制手段; 掌管; (成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的)保护带 | |
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14 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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15 groove | |
n.沟,槽;凹线,(刻出的)线条,习惯 | |
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16 squat | |
v.蹲坐,蹲下;n.蹲下;adj.矮胖的,粗矮的 | |
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17 flask | |
n.瓶,火药筒,砂箱 | |
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18 earthenware | |
n.土器,陶器 | |
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19 excise | |
n.(国产)货物税;vt.切除,删去 | |
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20 hip | |
n.臀部,髋;屋脊 | |
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21 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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22 glaze | |
v.因疲倦、疲劳等指眼睛变得呆滞,毫无表情 | |
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23 glazed | |
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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24 drowsy | |
adj.昏昏欲睡的,令人发困的 | |
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25 butt | |
n.笑柄;烟蒂;枪托;臀部;v.用头撞或顶 | |
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26 appreciable | |
adj.明显的,可见的,可估量的,可觉察的 | |
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27 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
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28 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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29 intermittent | |
adj.间歇的,断断续续的 | |
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30 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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31 shuffled | |
v.洗(纸牌)( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 );拖着脚步走;粗心地做;摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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32 puffed | |
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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33 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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34 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
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35 awry | |
adj.扭曲的,错的 | |
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36 clinched | |
v.(尤指两人)互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 );解决(争端、交易),达成(协议) | |
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37 chuckle | |
vi./n.轻声笑,咯咯笑 | |
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38 gaol | |
n.(jail)监狱;(不加冠词)监禁;vt.使…坐牢 | |
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39 lesser | |
adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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40 cargo | |
n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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41 cleanse | |
vt.使清洁,使纯洁,清洗 | |
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42 meddle | |
v.干预,干涉,插手 | |
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43 nought | |
n./adj.无,零 | |
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44 rogue | |
n.流氓;v.游手好闲 | |
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45 meditate | |
v.想,考虑,(尤指宗教上的)沉思,冥想 | |
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46 consort | |
v.相伴;结交 | |
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47 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
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48 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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49 bowels | |
n.肠,内脏,内部;肠( bowel的名词复数 );内部,最深处 | |
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50 chattered | |
(人)喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 ); 唠叨; (牙齿)打战; (机器)震颤 | |
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51 reeking | |
v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 );散发臭气;发出难闻的气味 (of sth);明显带有(令人不快或生疑的跡象) | |
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52 contingency | |
n.意外事件,可能性 | |
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53 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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54 persistent | |
adj.坚持不懈的,执意的;持续的 | |
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55 apoplectic | |
adj.中风的;愤怒的;n.中风患者 | |
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56 hue | |
n.色度;色调;样子 | |
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57 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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58 agates | |
n.玛瑙( agate的名词复数 );玛瑙制(或装有玛瑙的)工具; (小孩玩的)玛瑙纹玩具弹子;5。5磅铅字 | |
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59 sardonic | |
adj.嘲笑的,冷笑的,讥讽的 | |
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60 covert | |
adj.隐藏的;暗地里的 | |
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61 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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62 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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63 impulsive | |
adj.冲动的,刺激的;有推动力的 | |
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64 isolation | |
n.隔离,孤立,分解,分离 | |
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65 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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66 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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67 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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68 benevolently | |
adv.仁慈地,行善地 | |
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69 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
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70 creasing | |
(使…)起折痕,弄皱( crease的现在分词 ); (皮肤)皱起,使起皱纹; 挑檐 | |
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71 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
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72 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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73 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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74 exclamation | |
n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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75 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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76 lull | |
v.使安静,使入睡,缓和,哄骗;n.暂停,间歇 | |
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77 bellowed | |
v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的过去式和过去分词 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
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78 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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79 unintelligible | |
adj.无法了解的,难解的,莫明其妙的 | |
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80 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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81 sipped | |
v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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83 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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84 writhing | |
(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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85 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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86 unnatural | |
adj.不自然的;反常的 | |
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87 shriek | |
v./n.尖叫,叫喊 | |
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88 agonized | |
v.使(极度)痛苦,折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 );苦斗;苦苦思索;感到极度痛苦 | |
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89 grunt | |
v.嘟哝;作呼噜声;n.呼噜声,嘟哝 | |
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