It had struck two before the party began to break up. The first move made, however, the guests left in batches1, escorting one another to their respective house-doors. The Henry Ococks’ buggy had been in waiting for some time, and Mrs. Henry’s pretty head was drooping2 with fatigue3 before Henry, who was in the vein4, could tear himself from the card-table. Mahony went to the front gate with them; then strolled with the Longs to the corner of the road.
He was in no hurry to retrace5 his steps. The air was balmy, after that of the overcrowded rooms, and it was a fabulously6 beautiful night. The earth lay steeped in moonshine, as in the light of a silver sun. Trees and shrubs7 were patterned to their last leaf on the ground before them. What odd mental twist made mortals choose rather to huddle8 indoors, by puny9 candle-light, than to be abroad laving themselves in a splendour such as this?
Leaning his arms on the top rail of a fence, he looked across the slope at the Flat, now hushed and still as the encampment of a sleeping army. Beyond, the bush shimmered10 palely grey — in his younger years he had been used, on a night like this when the moon sailed full and free, to take his gun and go opossuming. Those two old woody gods, Warrenheip and Buninyong, stood out more imposingly12 than by day; but the ranges seemed to have retreated. The light lay upon them like a visible burden, flattening13 their contours, filling up clefts14 and fissures15 with a milky16 haze17.
“Good evening, doctor!”
Spoken in his very ear, the words made him jump. He had been lost in contemplation; and the address had a ghostly suddenness. But it was no ghost that stood beside him — nor indeed was it a night for those presences to be abroad whose element is the dark.
Ill-pleased at the intrusion, he returned but a stiff nod: then, since he could not in decency20 greet and leave-take in a breath, feigned21 to go on for a minute with his study of the landscape. After which he said: “Well, I must be moving. Good night to you.”
“So you’re off your sleep, too, are you?” As often happens, the impulse to speak was a joint22 one. The words collided.
Instinctively23 Mahony shrank into himself; this familiar bracketing of his person with another’s was distasteful to him. Besides, the man who had sprung up at his elbow bore a reputation that was none of the best. The owner of a small chemist’s shop on the Flat, he contrived24 to give offence in sundry25 ways: he was irreligious — an infidel, his neighbours had it — and of a Sabbath would scour26 his premises27 or hoe potatoes rather than attend church or chapel28. Though not a confirmed drunkard, he had been seen to stagger in the street, and be unable to answer when spoken to. Also, the woman with whom he lived was not generally believed to be his lawful29 wife. Hence the public fought shy of his nostrums30; and it was a standing31 riddle32 how he managed to avoid putting up his shutters33. More nefarious34 practices no doubt, said the relentless35 VOX POPULI.— Seen near at hand, he was a tall, haggard-looking fellow of some forty years of age, the muscles on his neck standing out like those of a skinny old horse.
Here, his gratuitous36 assumption of a common bond drew a cold: “Pray, what reason have you to think that?” from Mahony. And without waiting for a reply he again said good night and turned to go.
The man accepted the rebuff with a meekness37 that was painful to see. “Thought, comin’ on you like this, you were a case like my own. No offence, I’m sure,” he said humbly38. It was evident he was well used to getting the cold shoulder. Mahony stayed his steps. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “Aren’t you well? There’s a remedy to be found for most ills under the sun.”
“Not for mine! The doctor isn’t born or the drug discovered that could cure me.”
The tone of bragging39 bitterness grated anew. Himself given to the vice40 of overstatement, Mahony had small mercy on it in others. “Tut, tut!” he deprecated.
There was a brief silence before the speaker went on more quietly: “You’re a young man, doctor, I’m an old one.” And he looked old as he spoke18; Mahony saw that he had erred41 in putting him down as merely elderly. He was old and grey and down-at-heel — fifty, if a day — and his clothes hung loose on his bony frame. “You’ll excuse me if I say I know better’n you. When a man’s done, he’s done. And that’s me. Yes,”— he grew inflated42 again in reciting his woes43 —“I’m one o’ your hopeless cases, just as surely as if I was being eaten up by a cancer or a consumption. To mend me, you doctors ‘ud need to start me afresh — from the mother-egg.”
“You exaggerate, I’m sure.”
“It’s that — knowin’ one’s played out, with by rights still a good third of one’s life to run — that’s what puts the sleep away. In the daylight it’s none so hard to keep the black thoughts under; themselves they’re not so daresome; and there’s one’s pipe, and the haver o’ the young fry. But night’s the time! Then they come tramplin’ along, a whole army of ’em, carryin’ banners with letters a dozen feet high, so’s you shan’t miss rememberin’ what you’d give your soul to forget. And so it’ll go on, et cetera and ad lib., till it pleases the old Joker who sits grinnin’ up aloft to put His heel down — as you or me would squash a bull-ant or a scorpion44.”
“You speak bitterly, Mr. Tangye. Does a night like this not bring you calmer, clearer thoughts?” and Mahony waved his arm in a large, loose gesture at the sky.
His words passed unheeded. The man he addressed spun45 round and faced him, with a rusty46 laugh. “Hark at that!” he cried. “Just hark at it! Why, in all the years I’ve been in this God-forsaken place — long as I’ve been here — I’ve never yet heard my own name properly spoken. You’re the first, doctor. You shall have the medal.”
“But, man alive, you surely don’t let that worry you? Why, I’ve the same thing to put up with every day of my life. I smile at it.” And Mahony believed what he said, forgetting, in the antagonism47 such spleen roused in him, the annoyance48 the false stressing of his own name could sometimes cause him.
“So did I, once,” said Tangye, and wagged his head. “But the day came when it seemed the last straw; a bit o’ mean spite on the part o’ this hell of a country itself.”
“You dislike the colony, it appears, intensely?”
“You like it?” The counter question came tip for tap.
“I can be fair to it, I hope, and appreciate its good sides.” As always, the mere11 hint of an injustice49 made Mahony passionately50 just.
“Came ’ere of your own free will, did you? Weren’t crowded out at home? Or bamboozled51 by a pack o’ lying tales?” Tangye’s voice was husky with eagerness.
“That I won’t say either. But it is entirely52 my own choice that I remain here.”
“Well, I say to you, think twice of it! If you have the chance of gettin’ away, take it. It’s no place this, doctor, for the likes of you and me. Haven’t you never turned and asked yourself what the devil you were doin’ here? And that reminds me. . . . There was a line we used to have drummed into us at school — it’s often come back to me since. COELUM, NON ANIMUM, MUTANT, QUI TRANS MARE53 CURRUNT. In our green days we gabbled that off by rote54; then, it seemed just one more o’ the eel-sleek phrases the classics are full of. Now, I take off my hat to the man who wrote it. He knew what he was talkin’ about — by the Lord Harry55, he did!”
The Latin had come out tentatively, with an odd, unused intonation56. Mahony’s retort: “How on earth do you know what suits me and what doesn’t?” died on his lips. He was surprised into silence. There had been nothing in the other’s speech to show that he was a man of any education — rather the reverse.
Meanwhile Tangye went on: “I grant you it’s an antiquated57 point o’ view; but doesn’t that go to prove what I’ve been sayin’; that you and me are old-fashioned, too — out-o’-place here, out-o’-date? The modern sort, the sort that gets on in this country, is a prime hand at cuttin’ his coat to suit his cloth; for all that the stop-at-homes, like the writer o’ that line and other ancients, prate58 about the Ethiopian’s hide or the leopard59 and his spots. They didn’t buy their experience dear, like we did; didn’t guess that if a man DON’T learn to fit himself in, when he gets set down in such a land as this, he’s a goner; any more’n they knew that most o’ those who hold out here — all of ’em at any rate who’ve climbed the ladder, nabbed the plunder60 — have found no more difficulty in changin’ their spots than they have their trousers. Yes, doctor, there’s only one breed that flourishes, and you don’t need me to tell you which it is. Here they lie”— and he nodded to right and left of him —“dreamin’ o’ their money-bags, and their dividends61, and their profits, and how they’ll diddle and swindle one another afresh, soon as the sun gets up to-morrow. Harder ‘n nails they are, and sharp as needles. You ask me why I do my walkin’ out in the night-time? It’s so’s to avoid the sight o’ their mean little eyes, and their greedy, graspin’ faces.”
Mahony’s murmured disclaimer fell on deaf ears. Like one who had been bottled up for months, Tangye flowed on. “What a life! What a set! What a place to end one’s days in! Remember, if you can, the yarns62 that were spun round it for our benefit, from twenty thousand safe miles away. It was the Land o’ Promise and Plenty, topful o’ gold, strewn over with nuggets that only waited for hands to pick ’em up.— Lies!— lies from beginnin’ to end! I say to you this is the hardest and cruellest country ever created, and a man like me’s no more good here than the muck — the parin’s and stale fishguts and other leavin’s — that knocks about a harbour and washes against the walls. I’ll tell you the only use I’ll have been here, doctor, when my end comes: I’ll dung some bit o’ land for ’em with my moulder63 and rot. That’s all. They’d do better with my sort if they knocked us on the head betimes, and boiled us down for our fat and marrow64.”
Not much in that line to be got from YOUR carcase, my friend, thought Mahony, with an inward smile.
But Tangye had paused merely to draw breath. “What I say is, instead o’ layin’ snares65 for us, it ought to be forbid by law to give men o’ my make ship room. At home in the old country we’d find our little nook, and jog along decently to the end of our days. But just the staid, respectable, orderly sort I belonged to’s neither needed nor wanted here. I fall to thinkin’ sometimes on the fates of the hundreds of honest, steady-goin’ lads, who at one time or another have chucked up their jobs over there — for this. The drink no doubt’s took most: they never knew before that one COULD sweat as you sweat here. And the rest? Well, just accident . . . or the sun . . . or dysentery. . . or the bloody66 toil67 that goes by the name o’ work in these parts — you know the list, doctor, better’n me. They say the waste o’ life in a new country can’t be helped; doesn’t matter; has to be. But that’s cold comfort to the wasted. No! I say to you, there ought to be an Act of Parliament to prevent young fellows squanderin’ themselves, throwin’ away their lives as I did mine. For when we’re young, we’re not sane68. Youth’s a fever o’ the brain. And I WAS young once, though you mightn’t believe it; I had straight joints69, and no pouch70 under my chin, and my full share o’ windy hopes. Senseless truck these! To be spilled overboard bit by bit — like on a hundred-mile tramp a new-chum finishes by pitchin’ from his swag all the needless rubbish he’s started with. What’s wanted to get on here’s somethin’ quite else. Horny palms and costive bowels71; more’n a dash o’ the sharper; and no sickly squeamishness about knockin’ out other men and steppin’ into their shoes. And I was only an ordinary young chap; not over-strong nor over-shrewd, but honest — honest, by God I was! That didn’t count. It even stood in my way. For I was too good for this and too mealy-mouthed for that; and while I stuck, considerin’ the fairness of a job, some one who didn’t care a damn whether it was fair or not, walked in over my head and took it from me. There isn’t anything I haven’t tried my luck at, and with everything it’s been the same. Nothin’s prospered72; the money wouldn’t come — or stick if it did. And so here I am — all that’s left of me. It isn’t much; and by and by a few rank weeds ‘ull spring from it, and old Joey there, who’s paid to grub round the graves, old Joey ‘ull curse and say: a weedy fellow that, a rotten, weedy blackguard; and spit on his hands and hoe, till the weeds lie bleedin’ their juices — the last heirs of me . . . the last issue of my loins!”
“Pray, does it never occur to you, you fool, that FLOWERS may spring from you?”
He had listened to Tangye’s diatribe73 in a white heat of impatience74. But when he spoke he struck an easy tone — nor was he in any hesitation75 how to reply: for that, he had played devil’s advocate all too often with himself in private. An unlovely country, yes, as Englishmen understood beauty; and yet not without a charm of its own. An arduous76 life, certainly, and one full of pitfalls77 for the weak or the unwary; yet he believed it was no more impossible to win through here, and with clean hands, than anywhere else. To generalise as his companion had done was absurd. Preposterous78, too, the notion that those of their fellow-townsmen who had carried off the prizes owed their success to some superiority in bodily strength . . . or sharp dealing79 . . . or thickness of skin. With Mr. Tangye’s permission he would cite himself as an example. He was neither a very robust80 man, nor, he ventured to say, one of any marked ability in the other two directions. Yet he had managed to succeed without, in the process, sacrificing jot81 or tittle of his principles; and to-day he held a position that any member of his profession across the seas might envy him.
“Yes, but till you got there!” cried Tangye. “Hasn’t every superfluous82 bit of you — every thought of interest that wasn’t essential to the daily grind — been pared off?”
“If,” said Mahony stiffening83, “if what you mean by that is, have I allowed my mind to grow narrow and sluggish84, I can honestly answer no.”
In his heart he denied the charge even more warmly; for, as he spoke, he saw the great cork-slabs on which hundreds of moths85 and butterflies made dazzling spots of colour; saw the sheets of pink blotting-paper between which his collection of native plants lay pressed; the glass case filled with geological specimens87; his Bible, the margins88 of which round Genesis were black with his handwriting; a pile of books on the new marvel89 Spiritualism; Colenso’s PENTATEUCH; the big black volumes of the ARCANA COELESTIA; Locke on Miracles: he saw all these things and more. “No, I’m glad to say I have retained many interests outside my work.”
Tangye had taken off his spectacles and was polishing them on a crumpled90 handkerchief. He seemed about to reply, even made a quick half-turn towards Mahony; then thought better of it, and went on rubbing. A smile played round his lips.
“And in conclusion let me say this,” went on Mahony, not unnettled by his companion’s expression. “It’s sheer folly91 to talk about what life makes of us. Life is not an active force. It’s we who make what we will, of life. And in order to shape it to the best of our powers, Mr. Tangye, to put our brief span to the best possible use, we must never lose faith in God or our fellow-men; never forget that, whatever happens, there is a sky, with stars in it, above us.”
“Ah, there’s a lot of bunkum talked about life,” returned Tangye dryly, and settled his glasses on his nose. “And as man gets near the end of it, he sees just WHAT bunkum it is. Life’s only got one meanin’, doctor; seen plain, there’s only one object in everything we do; and that’s to keep a sound roof over our heads and a bite in our mouths — and in those of the helpless creatures who depend on us. The rest has no more sense or significance than a nigger’s hammerin’ on the tam-tam. The lucky one o’ this world don’t grasp it; but we others do; and after all p’raps, it’s worth while havin’ gone through it to have got at ONE bit of the truth, however, small. Good night.”
He turned on his heel, and before his words were cold on the air had vanished, leaving Mahony blankly staring.
The moonshine still bathed the earth, gloriously untroubled by the bitterness of human words and thoughts. But the night seemed to have grown chilly92; and Mahony gave an involuntary shiver. “Some one walking over my . . . now what would that specimen86 have called it? Over the four by eight my remains93 will one day manure94!”
“An odd, abusive, wrong-headed fellow,” he mused95, as he made his way home. “Who would ever have thought, though, that the queer little chemist had so much in him? A failure? . . . yes, he was right there; and as unlovely as failures always are — at close quarters.” But as he laid his hands on the gate, he jerked up his head and exclaimed half aloud: “God bless my soul! What he wanted was not argument or reason but a little human sympathy.” As usual, however, the flash of intuition came too late. “For such a touchy96 nature I’m certainly extraordinarily97 obtuse98 where the feelings of others are concerned,” he told himself as he hooked in the latch99.
“Why, Richard, where HAVE you been?” came Mary’s clear voice — muted so as not to disturb John and Jinny, who had retired100 to rest. Purdy and she sat waiting on the verandah. “Were you called out? We’ve had time to clear everything away. Here, dear, I saved you some sandwiches and a glass of claret. I’m sure you didn’t get any supper yourself, with looking after other people.”
Long after Mary had fallen asleep he lay wakeful. His foolish blunder in response to Tangye’s appeal rankled101 in his mind. He could not get over his insensitiveness. How he had boasted of his prosperity, his moral nicety, his saving pursuits — he to boast!— when all that was asked of him was a kindly102: “My poor fellow soul, you have indeed fought a hard fight; but there IS a God above us who will recompense you at His own time, take the word for it of one who has also been through the Slough103 of Despond.” And then just these . . . these hobbies of his, of which he had made so much. Now that he was alone with himself he saw them in a very different light. Lepidoptera collected years since were still unregistered, plants and stones unclassified; his poor efforts at elucidating104 the Bible waited to be brought into line with the Higher Criticism; Home’s levitations and fire-tests called for investigation105; while the leaves of some of the books he had cited had never even been cut. The mere thought of these things was provocative106, rest-destroying. To induce drowsiness107 he went methodically through the list of his acquaintances, and sought to range them under one or other of Tangye’s headings. And over this there came moments when he lapsed108 into depths . . . fetched himself up again — but with an effort . . . only to fall back. . . .
But he seemed barely to have closed his eyes when the night-bell rang. In an instant he was on his feet in the middle of the room, applying force to his sleep-cogged wits.
He threw open the sash. “Who’s there? What is it?”
Henry Ocock’s groom109. “I was to fetch you out to our place at once, governor.”
“But — Is Mrs. Henry taken ill?”
“Not as I know of,” said the man dryly. “But her and the boss had a bit of a tiff19 on the way home, and Madam’s excited-like.”
“And am I to pay for their tiffs110?” muttered Mahony hotly.
“Hush, Richard! He’ll hear you,” warned Mary, and sat up.
“I shall decline to go. Henry’s a regular old woman.”
Mary shook her head. “You can’t afford to offend the Henrys. And you know what he is so hasty. He’d call in some one else on the spot, and you’d never get back. If only you hadn’t stayed out so long, dear, looking at the moon!”
“Good God! Mary, is one never to have a moment to oneself? Never a particle of pleasure or relaxation111?”
“Why, Richard!” expostulated his wife, and even felt a trifle ashamed of his petulance112. “What would you call to-night, I wonder? Wasn’t the whole evening one of pleasure and relaxation?”
And Mahony, struggling into shirt and trousers, had to admit that he would be hard put to it to give it another name.
收听单词发音 |
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batches
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| 一批( batch的名词复数 )； 一炉； （食物、药物等的）一批生产的量； 成批作业 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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fabulously
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| 难以置信地，惊人地 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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imposingly
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flattening
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| n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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clefts
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| n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 )；裂口；cleave的过去式和过去分词；进退维谷 | |
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fissures
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| n.狭长裂缝或裂隙( fissure的名词复数 )；裂伤；分歧；分裂v.裂开( fissure的第三人称单数 ) | |
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milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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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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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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tiff
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| n.小争吵，生气 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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instinctively
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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scour
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| v.搜索；擦，洗，腹泻，冲刷 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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nostrums
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| n.骗人的疗法，有专利权的药品( nostrum的名词复数 )；妙策 | |
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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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riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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nefarious
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| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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gratuitous
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| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
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meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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bragging
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的现在分词 )；大话 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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43
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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44
scorpion
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| n.蝎子，心黑的人，蝎子鞭 | |
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45
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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46
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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47
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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48
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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49
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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50
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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51
bamboozled
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| v.欺骗，使迷惑( bamboozle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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53
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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54
rote
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| n.死记硬背，生搬硬套 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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prate
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| v.瞎扯，胡说 | |
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59
leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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61
dividends
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| 红利( dividend的名词复数 )； 股息； 被除数； （足球彩票的）彩金 | |
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62
yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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moulder
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| v.腐朽，崩碎 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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66
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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71
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
diatribe
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| n.抨击，抨击性演说 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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pitfalls
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| （捕猎野兽用的）陷阱( pitfall的名词复数 )； 意想不到的困难，易犯的错误 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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81
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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82
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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83
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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84
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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85
moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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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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91
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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93
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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94
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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95
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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touchy
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| adj.易怒的；棘手的 | |
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97
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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98
obtuse
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| adj.钝的；愚钝的 | |
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99
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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100
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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101
rankled
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
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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103
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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104
elucidating
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| v.阐明，解释( elucidate的现在分词 ) | |
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105
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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106
provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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107
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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108
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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109
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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110
tiffs
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| n.争吵( tiff的名词复数 )；（酒的）一口；小饮 | |
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111
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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112
petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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