Dick Wilson had taken very kindly1 to Jeffray’s hospitality, having discovered a warmth and sincerity2 in the master of Rodenham that was welcome to this rough philosopher who had suffered from the treachery of fashion. He loved the lad for his enthusiasm, his modesty3, and the frank chivalry4 of his boyish heart. Though contrasting in the outer man there was much similarity of soul between Jeffray and the painter. To strangers Wilson often appeared a coarse, ungainly, and ill-bred person, too much enamoured of using a somewhat scathing5 tongue on occasions, a man who drank porter and delighted in cheese.
Wilson had already set to work to paint a portrait of the Lady Letitia. The dowager appeared to have become even more enamoured of honest Dick, confessing to Richard that she had but rarely met a man possessed6 of so much wit, wisdom, and sterling7 common-sense. Jeffray respected his aunt for admiring Wilson, and was heartily8 glad that the poor fellow should make a friend of one whom he believed to be of influence in fashionable circles. Wilson had described to Jeffray the many ignominies and trials of a painter’s life. Since he had been persuaded by Zucarelli to abandon portraiture9 for landscape-painting he had discovered that he was dropping from the notice of the polished patrons of the age. Nature smiled upon his canvases, but she could not give him guineas in return. The English gentleman of that period believed that he could see trees, clouds, and rivers anywhere, and was by no means inclined to waste good gold on studies of prosaic10 hills. Well might Gay’s Trivia stand for the tastes of the age, Pope-ridden pedantry11, cramped12, stilted13, and precise. An absurd and pompous14 classicalism clogged15 the mind. Affectation was everywhere; the very flowers might have been made of wax, the trees of painted pasteboard. As for the imagination, poor bloodless captive, it was crushed beneath epigrammatical pedantry, and walled in by a versification cold as it was ugly.
The Lady Letitia had instructed her nephew to persuade Wilson to go with them to the masked ball at Hardacre, and though Jeffray acknowledged the wisdom of her remarks, he found Mr. Dick by no means eager to enjoy Sir Peter’s hospitality.
“Deuce take me, Jeffray,” he said, with a grimace16, “what sort of figure should I cut at such a rout17? I should tread on the wenches’ gowns, put my feet through their petticoats, and crunch18 their pretty toes. How can an elephant mate with Miss Terpsichore? Imagine Richard Wilson plodding19 through a minuet, sir! As for my talking sweet nothings to the ladies, you might as well put up a rhinoceros20 to flirt21 with the Venus of Milo.”
Jeffray laughed, but was not answered.
“I think you would enjoy it, Dick,” he said. “You can keep to the wall and gossip with the dowagers. I am not much of a dancer myself, but I like to study the world in one of its many phases.”
“I will think about it, lad—I will think about it,” said the painter, sadly.
“My aunt will be disappointed, sir, if you do not go.”
“Disappointed, eh?”
“Certainly, Dick; she has taken a great fancy to you.”
“We are to wear masks, eh?”
“You are not ashamed of your own face, Dick?”
The same evening, while Jeffray was sorting some of his curios in the library, the Lady Letitia catechised Richard Wilson in the parlor23 on the subject of the Hardacre ball. She was instructing her dear painter in the mysteries of piquet, listening the while to his droll25 tales with a delight that would have filled Dr. Sugg with scholarly contempt. Wilson, palpably disconcerted, but not desiring to pique24 the old lady, had put forward much the same excuses as he had made to Mr. Richard. The Lady Letitia, however, refused to listen to his self-depreciation. She even pretended to be incensed26 with poor Wilson for holding so humble27 an opinion of his own powers to please.
“Why, sir,” she exclaimed, “you are far too modest a creature to succeed in this world. People are only too ready to take one at one’s own estimate, if it happens to be a humble one. Remember, sir, that you must expect no magnanimity from your fellow-men; genius is always jeered28 at by the crawling cleverness of the world. Therefore, stand up for yourself, sir, and let men know that you are better than they.”
Poor Wilson fidgeted in his chair, and almost regretted that the dowager had conceived so good an opinion of him.
“And do you think, madam,” he asked, bluntly, “that they want a poor beggar of a painter at Hardacre House?”
“I should like to know, sir,” she said, “what house is not honored by the presence of genius.”
“You are very kind, madam, I am sure.”
“Why, I mentioned your name to Miss Hardacre herself.”
Dick Wilson looked aghast.
“You mentioned my name and profession, madam?”
“Well, sir, what fault has your superlative modesty to find with me now? Miss Hardacre expressed herself charmed, sir, that you should be present at the ball.”
“Charmed!”
“La, dear Mr. Wilson, of course I know all about that boyish escapade of yours, but those things are of no account in society. If we modish31 women were to avoid the men we had once flirted32 with, why, sir, we could go nowhere. I warrant you Miss Hardacre is a discreet33 young woman; she has forgotten that little affair years ago. Should she frown on you because of it? The best policy in these things, Mr. Wilson, is to act as if there had never been any harmless little romance at all.”
The painter had sat blushing like a boy during this harangue34. He fidgeted in his chair, looked at the card-table and at the ceiling.
“I suppose this is the fashion, madam, in the genteel world?” he asked.
“Of course, sir, of course, and a very sensible fashion to be sure.”
“Then you think there is no reason why I should not present myself at Hardacre House?”
“Mr. Wilson, have I had any experience of the world?”
“Ample, madam, ample.”
“And there should be one very good reason, sir,” she said, coquettishly, “why you should humor me in the matter.”
Wilson stared.
“I like to be amused, sir, by the wit and wisdom of a man of the world. These Sussex folk are terribly dull. I shall die of ennui35 there, unless—”
“Unless, madam?”
“You take pity on an old woman, and put your most delightful36 tongue at her service.”
Thus, thanks to the Lady Letitia’s diplomacy37, Richard Jeffray was compelled to ransack38 his dead father’s wardrobe in order to provide his friend with fitting clothes for the occasion. He discovered a sky-blue silk coat that fitted Wilson very respectably. He also provided the painter with a bag-wig, a pair of black silk breeches, white stockings, a richly frilled shirt, a lace cravat39, and an old court-sword. The painter made by no means a poor figure as he stood before the fire in Rodenham hall, waiting for the Lady Letitia to descend40 to the coach. Certainly the muscularity of his calves41 was too much in evidence; his back resembled a barn door, and his fiery42 face seemed in need of powder. Richard Wilson looked a gentleman of solidity and distinction, so long as he kept his feet still and did not get into difficulties with his sword. His dignity in such finery was intended to be of the statuesque order. Set him in motion, and his lumbering43 limbs moved with the clumsy stiltedness44 of a mechanical figure.
Hardacre House was brilliantly lit that night. The wax-candles in the rooms and galleries would have stocked a country shop a whole year. The major-domo and the serving-men were wearing new liveries of blue plush. The great baronial hall had been cleared for the rout, the floor waxed and polished till it shone, the suits of armor burnished45 to the radiance of silver, the escutcheons over the great stone fireplace repainted. In the minstrels’ gallery above the oak screen were two violins, a bassoon, a ’cello, and a flute46. Sir Peter had hired his musicians at The Wells, so that his guests should not complain of the quality of the music. The hall was gay with bright coats and handsome gowns, when the Rodenham company, properly and discreetly47 masked, were ushered48 in unannounced by the major-domo.
And what a quaint49 and stately sight it was, the great hall with its mediæval atmosphere filled with color, perfume and charming affectation. There were pompous and powdered dames51, tinted52 like delicate china and exhaling53 odors of ambergris and of musk54. There were gentlemen in gorgeous coats and waistcoats, slim swords dangling55 beside their silk-stockinged legs. And the sweet wenches in brocades and flowered silks, with black masks over their soft, pink faces, and their dear eyes glistening56 like stars through a dark firmament57! The nodding feathers, the lace, the powder and patches, the rippling58 color, the perfumes, the coy satin slippers59, the flickering60 fans. Surely it was all very quaint and beautiful, even though much of its charm was on the surface, and that there were sharp tongues behind many a set of pearly teeth.
Richard, despite the mystery of a black velvet vizard, soon discovered Mistress Jilian amid the rout. Did he not recognize the plump, pink bosom61 and the well-turned arms, the dimpled chin and bright gray eyes? Miss Hardacre’s head of auburn hair beaconed to Jeffray despite its powder. How red her mouth was!—and her gay-gowned body exuded62 perfume as though a spice-box had been broken in her tiring-room. Had he not seen that painted fan before, those twinkling feet, those plump, white hands?
“Ah, Jilian, how well you look to-night.”
“Are you sure it is Jilian?” she asked, with an arch bending of the neck.
“I should know you anywhere.”
“Now, sir, be careful.”
“Oh, cousin,” quoth the lady, covering the offending stigma67 with her fan, “you must not look at me as close as that.”
“How can I help looking at you, Jilian?”
“La, Richard, you are growing sweetly wicked. Come, they are striking up in the gallery. Let us lead off the first dance together.”
The hours went gayly that evening, as though Time tripped to some quaint old measure. What rustling68 of silk there was, what stately mingling69 of youth and age! How the colors played under the timbered roof, betwixt the dark oaken walls, under the antlered heads and Gothic armor! How plaintive70 were the violins and how ravishing the mellow71 piping of the flute! Every one seemed born for laughter and coquetting. Sir Peter himself led out the Lady Letitia to a minuet, the dowager sailing through it with a stateliness that might have stood for history. Mr. Lot had discovered Miss Julia Perkaby, and his red face glistened72 under the magic of those languishing73 dark eyes. As for Richard Jeffray, he looked distinguished74 enough to have played the Young Pretender, and his courtesies to Miss Jilian had tottered75 on the brink76 of a declaration. Dick Wilson watched the rout from a dark corner under the minstrels’ gallery. Perhaps he would have preferred to have studied Greek nymphs dancing in Arcady under the moon, their white limbs flashing under the green umbrage77 of classic trees.
The painter remained in the background during the evening, and beyond gravitating more than once to the supper-room, hugged his isolation78 in the corner under the minstrels’ gallery. The Lady Letitia was with him ever and again, but Jeffray appeared too busy with Miss Hardacre and his friends to have much time to give to ungainly Dick. Wilson had remained unpresented as yet to Sir Peter and his children. The painter was well content with his obscurity, and beyond indulging in an occasional mild chat with some old lady who had been relegated79 to the wall, Wilson amused himself with listening to the music, and meditating80 on the picturesque81 hypocrisies82 of life.
All went well till late in the evening, when many of the dancers consented to unmask to each other, and to laugh over the small mysteries black velvet vizards could beget83. It was then that the Lady Letitia came sailing down upon Richard Wilson where he sat in his blue coat under the gallery. The old lady had taken good care to keep her eyes on the painter during the whole evening.
“Ha, Mr. Wilson,” she said, with a triumphant84 amiability85 on her face, “at last I am able to enjoy your company. I have been tired to death, sir, by innumerable squirelings and country Tabithas. Come, has my nephew presented you to Miss Hardacre and Sir Peter?”
Wilson smiled and shook his head.
“Jeffray has been busy with the ladies, madam,” he said.
“What an absent lad it is! You must forgive him his youth, sir, and the sentimental87 excitements thereof. I will present you myself, sir, to Miss Hardacre. I hear she has been asking for you. Come. I see her yonder in the oriel.”
“Really, madam,” said the painter, bluntly, “I dare say Miss Hardacre can dispense88 with my society.”
“Nonsense,” she said, “Miss Hardacre will feel slighted if Richard’s friend is left out in the cold. Take your mask off, sir.”
“Is it necessary, madam?”
“Heavens, Mr. Wilson, you cannot be presented to the lady of the house in blinkers! Ah, that is well. Put it in your pocket, sir. And now give me your arm.”
Miss Jilian was sitting on one of the benches in the great oriel that bayed out from the right of the raised dais. The perpendicular90 window itself was filled with white glass, banded across the centre with the arms of the Hardacres, gules, a clarion91 argent, and the shields of certain families with whom they had been connected by marriage. Miss Hardacre, who had unmasked, was talking to one of Squire86 Pierpoint’s daughters when the Lady Letitia came strutting92 across the hall on Mr. Richard Wilson’s arm. The painter looked red and overheated, nor was his composure under the eyes of the assemblage bettered by his nearly tripping over his sword. Jilian had not noticed the dowager’s approach, so absorbed was she in confiding93 to Miss Dorothy Pierpoint some very feminine secrets concerning Richard Jeffray. There was a smile of beautiful amiability on the Lady Letitia’s face as she bore down like destiny upon the unconscious maiden.
“My dear Miss Hardacre—”
Jilian’s gray eyes flashed up to find the old lady standing94 before her with a fat man in a blue coat at her side.
“Permit me, my dear, to present to you my nephew’s friend, Mr. Richard Wilson, the distinguished portrait-painter.”
Poor Dick proceeded to make his most professional and graceful95 bow. Miss Hardacre, who had gone very white under her delicate rouging96, sat staring at the painter’s face as though it were possessed of the grim magic of the Medusa’s.
“Richard Wilson!”
“Surely you remember me, madam?” quoth Mr. Dick, clumsily, looking about as great a fool as a man could look in such a predicament.
The Lady Letitia was beaming upon the pair with a mischievous64 twinkle in her wicked old eyes. She knew that her nephew was watching them from the other side of the hall. But even the dowager was not prepared for the distressing98 and regrettable scene that was to follow. Miss Hardacre, instead of giving her hand to the painter, shrank back with a shrill99 scream, and proceeded to faint in the proper pathetic fashion, lying limp and pale in Miss Dorothy Pierpoint’s arms. Poor Wilson stood like an emblem100 of confusion, nodding his heavy head, and staring first at the unconscious Jilian and then at the Lady Letitia. There was much stir and bustle101 at the upper end of the hall. Old ladies began to crowd in sympathetic curiosity towards the oriel, with bobbing feathers and inquisitive102 noses.
“Poor dear Miss Hardacre has fainted.”
“Dear, dear, the room is uncommonly103 hot to be sure.”
“Will some one give her my smelling-salts?”
“Dear me, sir”—this from a thin dame50 to Mr. Wilson, who was pushing through the press—“do you know that you are trampling104 on my gown?”
The painter had been edging out of the oriel, conceiving that he could best mend the mischief105 he had done by taking his departure. There must have been some blundering somewhere; either the Lady Letitia had been mistaken in her knowledge of the world, or he had been mistaken in the Lady Letitia. Looking very red and foolish, he was shambling towards the door when footsteps came rattling106 after him and a hand gripped the collar of the painter’s coat.
Wilson, twisting round, saw Mr. Lot Hardacre’s furious red face staring into his.
“Richard Wilson, by Heaven!”
“Leave go of my collar, sir.”
“Deuce take me!”
“I came as Richard Jeffray’s friend, sir.”
“Curse you, sir, how dared you show your blackguardly face before my sister!”
Wilson shook himself free from Lot’s hold. He was no angel in the matter of temper, and his patience was giving way under the strain.
“Don’t swear at me, sir,” he said. “If I have been made a fool of I am not going to be kicked for it.”
Mr. Lot fired out a number of oaths, and struck Wilson across the face with the back of his open hand.
Several of Mr. Lot’s bullies108 had crowded round, ready to uphold their Achilles in the broil109. Dick Wilson, with his red face ablaze110 and his fists clinched111, had fallen back against the wall, and was glaring at Lot Hardacre as though tempted112 to blood his nose for him then and there. The whole hall was in commotion113, many of the guests having turned from the fainting Jilian to watch the quarrel between Mr. Lot and the man in the blue coat. The musicians had stopped playing, and were leaning over the balustrading of the gallery. Sir Peter himself was waddling114 from the supper-room when Jeffray pushed through the ring of gentlemen about Dick Wilson, and confronted his cousin with flushed face and angry eyes.
“You have struck my guest, Lot,” he said, with his hand on his sword.
Mr. Hardacre swore like a coal-heaver.
“Damnation, cousin, you have insulted us by bringing the fellow here.”
“Insulted you, sir?”
“And my sister, sir. Deuce take me, Richard Jeffray, if you weren’t my cousin I’d have you and this fellow ducked in the horse-trough. Deuce take me, I would.”
There was an enthusiastic murmur115 of approval from Mr. Lancelot’s friends. Jeffray, utterly116 mystified, yet thoroughly117 angered none the less, looked as though ready to take his cousin at his word. Wilson, who had recovered some of his equanimity118, stepped forward suddenly and laid his great hand on the lad’s shoulder.
“Richard Jeffray,” he said, with a fierce glance at Lot, “let there be no blood-spilling on my account. It is my fault, sir, and this gentleman, your cousin, is justified119 in construing120 my presence here into an insult.”
Mr. Lot laughed contemptuously.
“Lick the dirt, my bully,” he said, “but I must have a word with Cousin Richard.”
“Your kinsman122 is as innocent as a child, sir,” he said; “the blame is mine. I offer you my apologies for causing such a scene. You can find me at Rodenham if you think fit.”
Wilson, looking quite the fine gentleman for once, bowed to Mr. Lancelot, and, elbowing the grinning toadies123 aside, strode towards the door with his shoulders squared. Richard, still hopelessly befogged, stared at his cousin, and then followed the painter. The Lady Letitia was sailing down the room, the light of battle in her eyes. She called her nephew to her and commanded him to give her his arm.
“It is time that we followed Mr. Wilson,” she said, with a fierce glare at Mr. Lot. “I have no wish to stay longer in this house to be insulted.”
Lot followed the dowager and Richard towards the door.
“You’ll hear from me, cousin,” he said.
“I am at your service, sir,” quoth Richard.
Lot, his red face still aflame, turned back to meet his father. The baronet was taking snuff with great asperity124. He glared at his son, and spoke125 to him in an angry whisper.
Mr. Lancelot’s blue eyes flashed.
“Dick Wilson, the painter fellow, was here,” he said.
“Dick Wilson!”
“That old beldam brought him with her from Rodenham. Jill fainted when she saw the fellow. Damme, sir, I will have it out with Cousin Richard. I can’t fight the old she-dog or the oilman, but I can fight Richard.”
“Good Lord, Lot,” he said, “here’s a pretty ending to our party. Damn the old woman. Egad, you’d better get Jilian to bed.”
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1
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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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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5
scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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6
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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7
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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8
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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9
portraiture
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| n.肖像画法 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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pedantry
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| n.迂腐，卖弄学问 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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stilted
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| adj.虚饰的；夸张的 | |
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14
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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15
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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16
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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rhinoceros
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| n.犀牛 | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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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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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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28
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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31
modish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的 | |
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flirted
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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harangue
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| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
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ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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ransack
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| v.彻底搜索，洗劫 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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40
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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41
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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42
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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43
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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stiltedness
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45
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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46
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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47
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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48
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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50
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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51
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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52
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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53
exhaling
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的现在分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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54
musk
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| n.麝香, 能发出麝香的各种各样的植物，香猫 | |
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55
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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56
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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57
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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58
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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59
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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60
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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61
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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62
exuded
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的过去式和过去分词 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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63
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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64
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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65
mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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66
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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67
stigma
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| n.耻辱，污名；(花的)柱头 | |
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68
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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69
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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70
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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71
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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72
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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74
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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75
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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76
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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77
umbrage
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| n.不快；树荫 | |
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78
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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79
relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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80
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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81
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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82
hypocrisies
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| n.伪善，虚伪( hypocrisy的名词复数 ) | |
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83
beget
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| v.引起；产生 | |
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84
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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85
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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86
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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87
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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88
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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90
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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91
clarion
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| n.尖音小号声；尖音小号 | |
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92
strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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93
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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94
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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95
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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96
rouging
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| 胭脂，口红( rouge的现在分词 ) | |
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97
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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99
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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100
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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101
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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102
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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103
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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104
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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105
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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106
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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107
grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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108
bullies
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| n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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109
broil
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| v.烤，烧，争吵，怒骂；n.烤，烧，争吵，怒骂 | |
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110
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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111
clinched
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| 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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112
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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113
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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114
waddling
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的现在分词 ) | |
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115
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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116
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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117
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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118
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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119
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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120
construing
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| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的现在分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
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121
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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122
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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123
toadies
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| n.谄媚者，马屁精( toady的名词复数 )v.拍马，谄媚( toady的第三人称单数 ) | |
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124
asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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125
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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126
brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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127
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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128
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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