Outside the laboratory windows was a watery-grey fog, and within a close warmth and the yellow light of the green-shaded gas lamps that stood two to each table down its narrow length. On each table stood a couple of glass jars containing the mangled2 vestiges3 of the crayfish, mussels, frogs, and guinea-pigs upon which the students had been working, and down the side of the room, facing the windows, were shelves bearing bleached4 dissections in spirits, surmounted6 by a row of beautifully executed anatomical drawings in white-wood frames and overhanging a row of cubical lockers7. All the doors of the laboratory were panelled with blackboard, and on these were the half-erased diagrams of the previous day’s work. The laboratory was empty, save for the demonstrator, who sat near the preparation-room door, and silent, save for a low, continuous murmur8 and the clicking of the rocker microtome at which he was working. But scattered9 about the room were traces of numerous students: hand-bags, polished boxes of instruments, in one place a large drawing covered by newspaper, and in another a prettily10 bound copy of News from Nowhere, a book oddly at variance11 with its surroundings. These things had been put down hastily as the students had arrived and hurried at once to secure their seats in the adjacent lecture theatre. Deadened by the closed door, the measured accents of the professor sounded as a featureless muttering.
Presently, faint through the closed windows came the sound of the Oratory1 clock striking the hour of eleven. The clicking of the microtome ceased, and the demonstrator looked at his watch, rose, thrust his hands into his pockets, and walked slowly down the laboratory towards the lecture theatre door. He stood listening for a moment, and then his eye fell on the little volume by William Morris. He picked it up, glanced at the title, smiled, opened it, looked at the name on the fly-leaf, ran the leaves through with his hand, and put it down. Almost immediately the even murmur of the lecturer ceased, there was a sudden burst of pencils rattling12 on the desks in the lecture theatre, a stirring, a scraping of feet, and a number of voices speaking together. Then a firm footfall approached the door, which began to open, and stood ajar, as some indistinctly heard question arrested the new-comer.
The demonstrator turned, walked slowly back past the microtome, and left the laboratory by the preparation-room door. As he did so, first one, and then several students carrying notebooks entered the laboratory from the lecture theatre, and distributed themselves among the little tables, or stood in a group about the doorway13. They were an exceptionally heterogeneous14 assembly, for while Oxford15 and Cambridge still recoil16 from the blushing prospect17 of mixed classes, the College of Science anticipated America in the matter years ago — mixed socially, too, for the prestige of the College is high, and its scholarships, free of any age limit, dredge deeper even than do those of the Scotch18 universities. The class numbered one-and-twenty, but some remained in the theatre questioning the professor, copying the black-board diagrams before they were washed off, or examining the special specimens20 he had produced to illustrate21 the day’s teaching. Of the nine who had come into the laboratory three were girls, one of whom, a little fair woman, wearing spectacles and dressed in greyish-green, was peering out of the window at the fog, while the other two, both wholesome-looking, plain-faced schoolgirls, unrolled and put on the brown holland aprons23 they wore while dissecting24. Of the men, two went down the laboratory to their places, one a pallid25, dark-bearded man, who had once been a tailor; the other a pleasant-featured, ruddy young man of twenty, dressed in a well-fitting brown suit; young Wedderburn, the son of Wedderburn, the eye specialist. The others formed a little knot near the theatre door. One of these, a dwarfed26, spectacled figure, with a hunchback, sat on a bent27 wood stool; two others, one a short, dark youngster, and the other a flaxen-haired, reddish-complexioned young man, stood leaning side by side against the slate28 sink, while the fourth stood facing them, and maintained the larger share of the conversation.
This last person was named Hill. He was a sturdily built young fellow, of the same age as Wedderburn; he had a white face, dark grey eyes, hair of an indeterminate colour, and prominent, irregular features. He talked rather louder than was needful, and thrust his hands deeply into his pockets. His collar was frayed29 and blue with the starch30 of a careless laundress, his clothes were evidently ready-made, and there was a patch on the side of his boot near the toe. And as he talked or listened to the others, he glanced now and again towards the lecture theatre door. They were discussing the depressing peroration31 of the lecture they had just heard, the last lecture it was in the introductory course in zoology32. “From ovum to ovum is the goal of the higher vertebrata,” the lecturer had said in his melancholy33 tones, and so had neatly34 rounded off the sketch35 of comparative anatomy36 he had been developing. The spectacled hunchback had repeated it, with noisy appreciation37, had tossed it towards the fair-haired student with an evident provocation38, and had started one of these vague, rambling39 discussions on generalities, so unaccountably dear to the student mind all the world over.
“That is our goal, perhaps — I admit it, as far as science goes,” said the fair-haired student, rising to the challenge. “But there are things above science.”
“Science,” said Hill confidently, “is systematic40 knowledge. Ideas that don’t come into the system — must anyhow — be loose ideas.” He was not quite sure whether that was a clever saying or a fatuity41 until his hearers took it seriously.
“The thing I cannot understand,” said the hunchback, at large, “is whether Hill is a materialist42 or not.”
“There is one thing above matter,” said Hill promptly43, feeling he had a better thing this time; aware, too, of someone in the doorway behind him, and raising his voice a trifle for her benefit, “and that is, the delusion45 that there is something above matter.”
“So we have your gospel at last,” said the fair student. “It’s all a delusion, is it? All our aspirations46 to lead something more than dogs’ lives, all our work for anything beyond ourselves. But see how inconsistent you are. Your socialism, for instance. Why do you trouble about the interests of the race? Why do you concern yourself about the beggar in the gutter47? Why are you bothering yourself to lend that book “— he indicated William Morris by a movement of the head —“to everyone in the lab.?”
“Girl,” said the hunchback indistinctly, and glanced guiltily over his shoulder.
The girl in brown, with the brown eyes, had come into the laboratory, and stood on the other side of the table behind him, with her rolled-up apron22 in one hand, looking over her shoulder, listening to the discussion. She did not notice the hunchback, because she was glancing from Hill to his interlocutor. Hill’s consciousness of her presence betrayed itself to her only in his studious ignorance of the fact; but she understood that, and it pleased her. “I see no reason,” said he, “why a man should live like a brute48 because he knows of nothing beyond matter, and does not expect to exist a hundred years hence.”
“Why shouldn’t he?” said the fair-haired student.
“Why should he?” said Hill.
“What inducement has he?”
“That’s the way with all you religious people. It’s all a business of inducements. Cannot a man seek after righteousness for righteousness’ sake?”
There was a pause. The fair man answered, with a kind of vocal49 padding, “But — you see — inducement — when I said inducement,” to gain time. And then the hunchback came to his rescue and inserted a question. He was a terrible person in the debating society with his questions, and they invariably took one form — a demand for a definition, “What’s your definition of righteousness?” said the hunchback at this stage.
Hill experienced a sudden loss of complacency at this question, but even as it was asked, relief came in the person of Brooks50, the laboratory attendant, who entered by the preparation-room door, carrying a number of freshly killed guinea-pigs by their hind44 legs. “This is the last batch51 of material this session,” said the youngster who had not previously52 spoken. Brooks advanced up the laboratory, smacking53 down a couple of guinea-pigs at each table. The rest of the class, scenting54 the prey55 from afar, came crowding in by the lecture theatre door, and the discussion perished abruptly56 as the students who were not already in their places hurried to them to secure the choice of a specimen19. There was a noise of keys rattling on split rings as lockers were opened and dissecting instruments taken out. Hill was already standing57 by his table, and his box of scalpels was sticking out of his pocket. The girl in brown came a step towards him, and, leaning over his table, said softly, “Did you see that I returned your book, Mr. Hill?”
During the whole scene she and the book had been vividly58 present in his consciousness; but he made a clumsy pretence59 of looking at the book and seeing it for the first time. “Oh, yes,” he said, taking it up. “I see. Did you like it?”
“I want to ask you some questions about it — some time.”
“Certainly,” said Hill. “I shall be glad.” He stopped awkwardly. “You liked it?” he said.
“It’s a wonderful book. Only some things I don’t understand.”
Then suddenly the laboratory was hushed by a curious, braying60 noise. It was the demonstrator. He was at the blackboard ready to begin the day’s instruction, and it was his custom to demand silence by a sound midway between the “Er” of common intercourse61 and the blast of a trumpet62. The girl in brown slipped back to her place: it was immediately in front of Hill’s, and Hill, forgetting her forthwith, took a notebook out of the drawer of his table, turned over its leaves hastily, drew a stumpy pencil from his pocket, and prepared to make a copious64 note of the coming demonstration65. For demonstrations66 and lectures are the sacred text of the College students. Books, saving only the Professor’s own, you may — it is even expedient67 to — ignore.
Hill was the son of a Landport cobbler, and had been hooked by a chance blue paper the authorities had thrown out to the Landport Technical College. He kept himself in London on his allowance of a guinea a week, and found that, with proper care, this also covered his clothing allowance, an occasional waterproof68 collar, that is; and ink and needles and cotton, and such-like necessaries for a man about town. This was his first year and his first session, but the brown old man in Landport had already got himself detested69 in many public-houses by boasting of his son, “the Professor.” Hill was a vigorous youngster, with a serene70 contempt for the clergy71 of all denominations72, and a fine ambition to reconstruct the world. He regarded his scholarship as a brilliant opportunity. He had begun to read at seven, and had read steadily73 whatever came in his way, good or bad, since then. His worldly experience had been limited to the island of Portsea, and acquired chiefly in the wholesale74 boot factory in which he had worked by day, after passing the seventh standard of the Board school. He had a considerable gift of speech, as the College Debating Society, which met amidst the crushing machines and mine models in the metallurgical theatre downstairs, already recognised — recognised by a violent battering75 of desks whenever he rose. And he was just at that fine emotional age when life opens at the end of a narrow pass like a broad valley at one’s feet, full of the promise of wonderful discoveries and tremendous achievements. And his own limitations, save that he knew that he knew neither Latin nor French, were all unknown to him.
At first his interest had been divided pretty equally between his biological work at the College and social and theological theorising, an employment which he took in deadly earnest. Of a night, when the big museum library was not open, he would sit on the bed of his room in Chelsea with his coat and a muffler on, and write out the lecture notes and revise his dissection5 memoranda76, until Thorpe called him out by a whistle — the landlady77 objected to open the door to attic78 visitors — and then the two would go prowling about the shadowy, shiny, gas-lit streets, talking, very much in the fashion of the sample just given, of the God idea, and Righteousness, and Carlyle, and the Reorganisation of Society. And in the midst of it all, Hill, arguing not only for Thorpe, but for the casual passer-by, would lose the thread of his argument glancing at some pretty painted face that looked meaningly at him as he passed. Science and Righteousness! But once or twice lately there had been signs that a third interest was creeping into his life, and he had found his attention wandering from the fate of the mesoblastic somites or the probable meaning of the blastopore, to the thought of the girl with the brown eyes who sat at the table before him.
She was a paying student; she descended79 inconceivable social altitudes to speak to him. At the thought of the education she must have had, and the accomplishments80 she must possess, the soul of Hill became abject81 within him. She had spoken to him first over a difficulty about the alisphenoid of a rabbit’s skull82, and he had found that, in biology at least, he had no reason for self-abasement. And from that, after the manner of young people starting from any starting-point, they got to generalities, and while Hill attacked her upon the question of socialism — some instinct told him to spare her a direct assault upon her religion — she was gathering83 resolution to undertake what she told herself was his aesthetic84 education. She was a year or two older than he, though the thought never occurred to him. The loan of News from Nowhere was the beginning of a series of cross loans. Upon some absurd first principle of his, Hill had never “wasted time” Upon poetry, and it seemed an appalling85 deficiency to her. One day in the lunch hour, when she chanced upon him alone in the little museum where the skeletons were arranged, shamefully86 eating the bun that constituted his midday meal, she retreated, and returned to lend him, with a slightly furtive87 air, a volume of Browning. He stood sideways towards her and took the book rather clumsily, because he was holding the bun in the other hand. And in the retrospect88 his voice lacked the cheerful clearness he could have wished.
That occurred after the examination in comparative anatomy, on the day before the College turned out its students, and was carefully locked up by the officials, for the Christmas holidays. The excitement of cramming89 for the first trial of strength had for a little while dominated Hill, to the exclusion90 of his other interests. In the forecasts of the result in which everyone indulged he was surprised to find that no one regarded him as a possible competitor for the Harvey Commemoration Medal, of which this and the two subsequent examinations disposed. It was about this time that Wedderburn, who so far had lived inconspicuously on the uttermost margin92 of Hill’s perceptions, began to take on the appearance of an obstacle. By a mutual93 agreement, the nocturnal prowlings with Thorpe ceased for the three weeks before the examination, and his landlady pointed94 out that she really could not supply so much lamp oil at the price. He walked to and fro from the College with little slips of mnemonics95 in his hand, lists of crayfish appendages96, rabbits’ skull-bones, and vertebrate nerves, for example, and became a positive nuisance to foot passengers in the opposite direction.
But, by a natural reaction, Poetry and the girl with the brown eyes ruled the Christmas holiday. The pending97 results of the examination became such a secondary consideration that Hill marvelled98 at his father’s excitement. Even had he wished it, there was no comparative anatomy to read in Landport, and he was too poor to buy books, but the stock of poets in the library was extensive, and Hill’s attack was magnificently sustained. He saturated99 himself with the fluent numbers of Longfellow and Tennyson, and fortified100 himself with Shakespeare; found a kindred soul in Pope, and a master in Shelley, and heard and fled the siren voices of Eliza Cook and Mrs. Hemans. But he read no more Browning, because he hoped for the loan of other volumes from Miss Haysman when he returned to London.
He walked from his lodgings101 to the College with that volume of Browning in his shiny black bag, and his mind teeming102 with the finest general propositions about poetry. Indeed, he framed first this little speech and then that with which to grace the return. The morning was an exceptionally pleasant one for London; there was a clear, hard frost and undeniable blue in the sky, a thin haze103 softened104 every outline, and warm shafts105 of sunlight struck between the house blocks and turned the sunny side of the street to amber106 and gold. In the hall of the College he pulled off his glove and signed his name with fingers so stiff with cold that the characteristic dash under the signature he cultivated became a quivering line. He imagined Miss Haysman about him everywhere. He turned at the staircase, and there, below, he saw a crowd struggling at the foot of the notice-board. This, possibly, was the biology list. He forgot Browning and Miss Haysman for the moment, and joined the scrimmage. And at last, with his cheek flattened107 against the sleeve of the man on the step above him, he read the list —
CLASS I H. J. Somers Wedderburn William Hill
and thereafter followed a second class that is outside our present sympathies. It was characteristic that he did not trouble to look for Thorpe on the physics list, but backed out of the struggle at once, and in a curious emotional state between pride over common second-class humanity and acute disappointment at Wedderburn’s success, went on his way upstairs. At the top, as he was hanging up his coat in the passage, the zoological demonstrator, a young man from Oxford, who secretly regarded him as a blatant108 “mugger” of the very worst type, offered his heartiest109 congratulations.
At the laboratory door Hill stopped for a second to get his breath, and then entered. He looked straight up the laboratory and saw all five girl students grouped in their places, and Wedderburn, the once retiring Wedderburn, leaning rather gracefully110 against the window, playing with the blind tassel112 and talking, apparently113, to the five of them. Now, Hill could talk bravely enough and even overbearingly to one girl, and he could have made a speech to a roomful of girls, but this business of standing at ease and appreciating, fencing, and returning quick remarks round a group was, he knew, altogether beyond him. Coming up the staircase his feelings for Wedderburn had been generous, a certain admiration114 perhaps, a willingness to shake his hand conspicuously91 and heartily115 as one who had fought but the first round. But before Christmas Wedderburn had never gone up to that end of the room to talk. In a flash Hill’s mist of vague excitement condensed abruptly to a vivid dislike of Wedderburn. Possibly his expression changed. As he came up to his place, Wedderburn nodded carelessly to him, and the others glanced round. Miss Haysman looked at him and away again, the faintest touch of her eyes. “I can’t agree with you, Mr. Wedderburn,” she said.
“I must congratulate you on your first-class, Mr. Hill,” said the spectacled girl in green, turning round and beaming at him.
“It’s nothing,” said Hill, staring at Wedderburn and Miss Haysman talking together, and eager to hear what they talked about.
“We poor folks in the second class don’t think so,” said the girl in spectacles.
What was it Wedderburn was saying? Something about William Morris! Hill did not answer the girl in spectacles, and the smile died out of his face. He could not hear, and failed to see how he could “cut in.” Confound Wedderburn! He sat down, opened his bag, hesitated whether to return the volume of Browning forthwith, in the sight of all, and instead drew out his new notebooks for the short course in elementary botany that was now beginning, and which would terminate in February. As he did so, a fat, heavy man, with a white face and pale grey eyes — Bindon, the professor of botany, who came up from Kew for January and February — came in by the lecture theatre door, and passed, rubbing his hands together and smiling, in silent affability down the laboratory.
* * * * *
In the subsequent six weeks Hill experienced some very rapid and curiously116 complex emotional developments. For the most part he had Wedderburn in focus — a fact that Miss Haysman never suspected. She told Hill (for in the comparative privacy of the museum she talked a good deal to him of socialism and Browning and general propositions) that she had met Wedderburn at the house of some people she knew, and “he’s inherited his cleverness; for his father, you know, is the great eye-specialist.”
“My father is a cobbler,” said Hill, quite irrelevantly117, and perceived the want of dignity even as he said it. But the gleam of jealousy118 did not offend her. She conceived herself the fundamental source of it. He suffered bitterly from a sense of Wedderburn’s unfairness, and a realisation of his own handicap. Here was this Wedderburn had picked up a prominent man for a father, and instead of his losing so many marks on the score of that advantage, it was counted to him for righteousness! And while Hill had to introduce himself and talk to Miss Haysman clumsily over mangled guinea-pigs in the laboratory, this Wedderburn, in some backstairs way, had access to her social altitudes, and could converse119 in a polished argot120 that Hill understood perhaps, but felt incapable121 of speaking. Not, of course, that he wanted to. Then it seemed to Hill that for Wedderburn to come there day after day with cuffs122 unfrayed, neatly tailored, precisely123 barbered, quietly perfect, was in itself an ill-bred, sneering124 sort of proceeding125. Moreover, it was a stealthy thing for Wedderburn to behave insignificantly126 for a space, to mock modesty127, to lead Hill to fancy that he himself was beyond dispute the man of the year, and then suddenly to dart128 in front of him, and incontinently to swell129 up in this fashion. In addition to these things, Wedderburn displayed an increasing disposition130 to join in any conversational131 grouping that included Miss Haysman, and would venture, and indeed seek occasion, to pass opinions derogatory to socialism and atheism132. He goaded133 Hill to incivilities by neat, shallow, and exceedingly effective personalities134 about the socialist135 leaders, until Hill hated Bernard Shaw’s graceful111 egotisms, William Morris’s limited editions and luxurious136 wall-papers, and Walter Crane’s charmingly absurd ideal working men, about as much as he hated Wedderburn. The dissertations137 in the laboratory, that had been his glory in the previous term, became a danger, degenerated138 into inglorious tussels with Wedderburn, and Hill kept to them only out of an obscure perception that his honour was involved. In the debating society Hill knew quite clearly that, to a thunderous accompaniment of banged desks, he could have pulverised Wedderburn. Only Wedderburn never attended the debating society to be pulverised, because — nauseous affectation!— he “dined late.”
You must not imagine that these things presented themselves in quite such a crude form to Hill’s perception. Hill was a born generaliser. Wedderburn to him was not so much an individual obstacle as a type, the salient angle of a class. The economic theories that, after infinite ferment139, had shaped themselves in Hill’s mind, became abruptly concrete at the contact. The world became full of easy-mannered, graceful, gracefully-dressed, conversationally140 dexterous141, finally shallow Wedderburns, Bishops142 Wedderburn, Wedderburn M.P.‘s, Professors Wedderburn, Wedderburn landlords, all with finger-bowl shibboleths143 and epigrammatic cities of refuge from a sturdy debater. And everyone ill-clothed or ill-dressed, from the cobbler to the cab-runner, was a man and a brother, a fellow-sufferer, to Hill’s imagination. So that he became, as it were, a champion of the fallen and oppressed, albeit144 to outward seeming only a self-assertive, ill-mannered young man, and an unsuccessful champion at that. Again and again a skirmish over the afternoon tea that the girl students had inaugurated left Hill with flushed cheeks and a tattered145 temper, and the debating society noticed a new quality of sarcastic146 bitterness in his speeches.
You will understand now how it was necessary, if only in the interests of humanity, that Hill should demolish147 Wedderburn in the forthcoming examination and outshine him in the eyes of Miss Haysman; and you will perceive, too, how Miss Haysman fell into some common feminine misconceptions. The Hill–Wedderburn quarrel, for in his unostentatious way Wedderburn reciprocated148 Hill’s ill-veiled rivalry149, became a tribute to her indefinable charm; she was the Queen of Beauty in a tournament of scalpels and stumpy pencils. To her confidential150 friend’s secret annoyance151, it even troubled her conscience, for she was a good girl, and painfully aware, from Ruskin and contemporary fiction, how entirely152 men’s activities are determined153 by women’s attitudes. And if Hill never by any chance mentioned the topic of love to her, she only credited him with the finer modesty for that omission154. So the time came on for the second examination, and Hill’s increasing pallor confirmed the general rumour155 that he was working hard. In the aerated156 bread shop near South Kensington Station you would see him, breaking his bun and sipping157 his milk, with his eyes intent upon a paper of closely written notes. In his bedroom there were propositions about buds and stems round his looking-glass, a diagram to catch his eye, if soap should chance to spare it, above his washing basin. He missed several meetings of the debating society, but he found the chance encounters with Miss Haysman in the spacious158 ways of the adjacent art museum, or in the little museum at the top of the College, or in the College corridors, more frequent and very restful. In particular, they used to meet in a little gallery full of wrought-iron chests and gates, near the art library, and there Hill used to talk, under the gentle stimulus159 of her flattering attention, of Browning and his personal ambitions. A characteristic she found remarkable160 in him was his freedom from avarice161. He contemplated162 quite calmly the prospect of living all his life on an income below a hundred pounds a year. But he was determined to be famous, to make, recognisably in his own proper person, the world a better place to live in. He took Bradlaugh and John Burns for his leaders and models, poor, even impecunious163, great men. But Miss Haysman thought that such lives were deficient164 on the aesthetic side, by which, though she did not know it, she meant good wall-paper and upholstery, pretty books, tasteful clothes, concerts, and meals nicely cooked and respectfully served.
At last came the day of the second examination, and the professor of botany, a fussy165, conscientious166 man, rearranged all the tables in a long narrow laboratory to prevent copying, and put his demonstrator on a chair on a table (where he felt, he said, like a Hindoo god), to see all the cheating, and stuck a notice outside the door, “Door closed,” for no earthly reason that any human being could discover. And all the morning from ten till one the quill167 of Wedderburn shrieked168 defiance169 at Hill’s, and the quills170 of the others chased their leaders in a tireless pack, and so also it was in the afternoon. Wedderburn was a little quieter than usual, and Hill’s face was hot all day, and his overcoat bulged171 with textbooks and notebooks against the last moment’s revision. And the next day, in the morning and in the afternoon, was the practical examination, when sections had to be cut and slides identified. In the morning Hill was depressed172 because he knew he had cut a thick section, and in the afternoon came the mysterious slip.
It was just the kind of thing that the botanical professor was always doing. Like the income tax, it offered a premium173 to the cheat. It was a preparation under the microscope, a little glass slip, held in its place on the stage of the instrument by light steel clips, and the inscription174 set forth63 that the slip was not to be moved. Each student was to go in turn to it, sketch it, write in his book of answers what he considered it to be, and return to his place. Now, to move such a slip is a thing one can do by a chance movement of the finger, and in a fraction of a second. The professor’s reason for decreeing that the slip should not be moved depended on the fact that the object he wanted identified was characteristic of a certain tree stem. In the position in which it was placed it was a difficult thing to recognise, but once the slip was moved so as to bring other parts of the preparation into view, its nature was obvious enough.
Hill came to this, flushed from a contest with staining re-agents, sat down on the little stool before the microscope, turned the mirror to get the best light, and then, out of sheer habit, shifted the slips. At once he remembered the prohibition175, and, with an almost continuous motion of his hands, moved it back, and sat paralysed with astonishment176 at his action.
Then, slowly, he turned his head. The professor was out of the room; the demonstrator sat aloft on his impromptu177 rostrum, reading the Q. Jour. Mi. Sci.; the rest of the examinees were busy, and with their backs to him. Should he own up to the accident now? He knew quite clearly what the thing was. It was a lenticel, a characteristic preparation from the elder-tree. His eyes roved over his intent fellow-students, and Wedderburn suddenly glanced over his shoulder at him with a queer expression in his eyes. The mental excitement that had kept Hill at an abnormal pitch of vigour178 these two days gave way to a curious nervous tension. His book of answers was beside him. He did not write down what the thing was, but with one eye at the microscope he began making a hasty sketch of it. His mind was full of this grotesque179 puzzle in ethics180 that had suddenly been sprung upon him. Should he identify it? or should he leave this question unanswered? In that case Wedderburn would probably come out first in the second result. How could he tell now whether he might not have identified the thing without shifting it? It was possible that Wedderburn had failed to recognise it, of course. Suppose Wedderburn too had shifted the slide? He looked up at the clock. There were fifteen minutes in which to make up his mind. He gathered up his book of answers and the coloured pencils he used in illustrating181 his replies and walked back to his seat.
He read through his manuscript, and then sat thinking and gnawing182 his knuckle183. It would look queer now if he owned up. He must beat Wedderburn. He forgot the examples of those starry184 gentlemen, John Burns and Bradlaugh. Besides, he reflected, the glimpse of the rest of the slip he had had was, after all, quite accidental, forced upon him by chance, a kind of providential revelation rather than an unfair advantage. It was not nearly so dishonest to avail himself of that as it was of Broome, who believed in the efficacy of prayer, to pray daily for a first-class. “Five minutes more,” said the demonstrator, folding up his paper and becoming observant. Hill watched the clock hands until two minutes remained; then he opened the book of answers, and, with hot ears and an affectation of ease, gave his drawing of the lenticel its name.
When the second pass list appeared, the previous positions of Wedderburn and Hill were reversed, and the spectacled girl in green, who knew the demonstrator in private life (where he was practically human), said that in the result of the two examinations taken together Hill had the advantage of a mark — 167 to 166 out of a possible 200. Everyone admired Hill in a way, though the suspicion of “mugging” clung to him. But Hill was to find congratulations and Miss Haysman’s enhanced opinion of him, and even the decided185 decline in the crest186 of Wedderburn, tainted187 by an unhappy memory. He felt a remarkable access of energy at first, and the note of a democracy marching to triumph returned to his debating-society speeches; he worked at his comparative anatomy with tremendous zeal188 and effect, and he went on with his aesthetic education. But through it all, a vivid little picture was continually coming before his mind’s eye — of a sneakish person manipulating a slide.
No human being had witnessed the act, and he was cocksure that no higher power existed to see, it; but for all that it worried him. Memories are not dead things but alive; they dwindle189 in disuse, but they harden and develop in all sorts of queer ways if they are being continually fretted191. Curiously enough, though at the time he perceived clearly that the shifting was accidental, as the days wore on, his memory became confused about it, until at last he was not sure — although he assured himself that he was sure — whether the movement had been absolutely involuntary. Then it is possible that Hill’s dietary was conducive192 to morbid193 conscientiousness194; a breakfast frequently eaten in a hurry, a midday bun, and, at such hours after five as chanced to be convenient, such meat as his means determined, usually in a chop-house in a back street off the Brompton Road. Occasionally he treated himself to threepenny or ninepenny classics, and they usually represented a suppression of potatoes or chops. It is indisputable that outbreaks of self-abasement and emotional revival195 have a distinct relation to periods of scarcity196. But apart from this influence on the feelings, there was in Hill a distinct aversion to falsity that the blasphemous197 Landport cobbler had inculcated by strap198 and tongue from his earliest years. Of one fact about professed199 atheists I am convinced; they may be — they usually are — fools, void of subtlety200, revilers of holy institutions, brutal201 speakers, and mischievous202 knaves203, but they lie with difficulty. If it were not so, if they had the faintest grasp of the idea of compromise, they would simply be liberal churchmen. And, moreover, this memory poisoned his regard for Miss Haysman. For she now so evidently preferred him to Wedderburn that he felt sure he cared for her, and began reciprocating204 her attentions by timid marks of personal regard; at one time he even bought a bunch of violets, carried it about in his pocket, and produced it, with a stumbling explanation, withered205 and dead, in the gallery of old iron. It poisoned, too, the denunciation of capitalist dishonesty that had been one of his life’s pleasures. And, lastly, it poisoned his triumph in Wedderburn. Previously he had been Wedderburn’s superior in his own eyes, and had raged simply at a want of recognition. Now he began to fret190 at the darker suspicion of positive inferiority. He fancied he found justifications206 for his position in Browning, but they vanished on analysis. At last — moved, curiously enough, by exactly the same motive207 forces that had resulted in his dishonesty — he went to Professor Bindon, and made a clean breast of the whole affair. As Hill was a paid student, Professor Bindon did not ask him to sit down, and he stood before the professor’s desk as he made his confession208.
“It’s a curious story,” said Professor Bindon, slowly realising how the thing reflected on himself, and then letting his anger rise,—“a most remarkable story. I can’t understand your doing it, and I can’t understand this avowal209. You’re a type of student — Cambridge men would never dream — I suppose I ought to have thought — why did you cheat?”
“I didn’t cheat,” said Hill.
“But you have just been telling me you did.”
“I thought I explained —”
“Either you cheated or you did not cheat.”
“I said my motion was involuntary.”
“I am not a metaphysician, I am a servant of science — of fact. You were told not to move the slip. You did move the slip. If that is not cheating —”
“If I was a cheat,” said Hill, with the note of hysterics in his voice, “should I come here and tell you?”
“Your repentance210, of course, does you credit,” said Professor Bindon, “but it does not alter the original facts.”
“No, sir,” said Hill, giving in in utter self-abasement.
“Even now you cause an enormous amount of trouble. The examination list will have to be revised.”
“I suppose so, sir.”
“Suppose so? Of course it must be revised. And I don’t see how I can conscientiously211 pass you.”
“Not pass me?” said Hill. “Fail me?”
“It’s the rule in all examinations. Or where should we be? What else did you expect? You don’t want to shirk the consequences of your own acts?”
“I thought, perhaps ——” said Hill. And then, “Fail me? I thought, as I told you, you would simply deduct212 the marks given for that slip.”
“Impossible!” said Bindon. “Besides, it would still leave you above Wedderburn. Deduct only the marks! Preposterous213! The Departmental Regulations distinctly say ——”
“But it’s my own admission, sir.”
“The Regulations say nothing whatever of the manner in which the matter comes to light. They simply provide ——”
“It will ruin me. If I fail this examination, they won’t renew my scholarship.”
“You should have thought of that before.”
“But, sir, consider all my circumstances ——”
“I cannot consider anything. Professors in this College are machines. The Regulations will not even let us recommend our students for appointments. I am a machine, and you have worked me. I have to do ——”
“It’s very hard, sir.”
“Possibly it is.”
“If I am to be failed this examination, I might as well go home at once.”
“That is as you think proper.” Bindon’s voice softened a little; he perceived he had been unjust, and, provided he did not contradict himself, he was disposed to amelioration. “As a private person,” he said, “I think this confession of yours goes far to mitigate214 your offence. But you have set the machinery215 in motion, and now it must take its course. I— I am really sorry you gave way.”
A wave of emotion prevented Hill from answering. Suddenly, very vividly, he saw the heavily-lined face of the old Landport cobbler, his father. “Good God! What a fool I have been!” he said hotly and abruptly.
“I hope,” said Bindon, “that it will be a lesson to you.”
But, curiously enough, they were not thinking of quite the same indiscretion.
There was a pause.
“I would like a day to think, sir, and then I will let you know — about going home, I mean,” said Hill, moving towards the door.
* * * * *
The next day Hill’s place was vacant. The spectacled girl in green was, as usual, first with the news. Wedderburn and Miss Haysman were talking of a performance of The Meistersingers when she came up to them.
“Have you heard?” she said.
“Heard what?”
“There was cheating in the examination.”
“Cheating!” said Wedderburn, with his face suddenly hot. “How?”
“That slide —”
“Moved? Never!”
“It was. That slide that we weren’t to move —”
“Nonsense!” said Wedderburn. “Why! How could they find out? Who do they say —?”
“It was Mr. Hill.”
Hill!”
“Mr. Hill!”
“Not — surely not the immaculate Hill?” said Wedderburn, recovering.
“I don’t believe it,” said Miss Haysman. “How do you know?”
“I didn’t,” said the girl in spectacles. “But I know it now for a fact. Mr. Hill went and confessed to Professor Bindon himself.”
“By Jove!” said Wedderburn. “Hill of all people. But I am always inclined to distrust these philanthropists-on-principle —”
“Are you quite sure?” said Miss Haysman, with a catch in her breath.
“Quite. It’s dreadful, isn’t it? But, you know, what can you expect? His father is a cobbler.”
Then Miss Haysman astonished the girl in spectacles.
“I don’t care. I will not believe it,” she said, flushing darkly under her warm-tinted skin. “I will not believe it until he has told me so himself — face to face. I would scarcely believe it then,” and abruptly she turned her back on the girl in spectacles, and walked to her own place.
“It’s true, all the same,” said the girl in spectacles, peering and smiling at Wedderburn.
But Wedderburn did not answer her. She was indeed one of those people who seemed destined216 to make unanswered remarks.
收听单词发音 |
1
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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vestiges
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| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
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bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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dissection
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| n.分析；解剖 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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lockers
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| n.寄物柜( locker的名词复数 ) | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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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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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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heterogeneous
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| adj.庞杂的；异类的 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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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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illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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dissecting
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| v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的现在分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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28
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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starch
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| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
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peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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zoology
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| n.动物学，生态 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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fatuity
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| n.愚蠢，愚昧 | |
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materialist
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| n. 唯物主义者 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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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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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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60
braying
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| v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的现在分词 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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68
waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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71
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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denominations
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| n.宗派( denomination的名词复数 )；教派；面额；名称 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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76
memoranda
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| n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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81
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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82
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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84
aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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85
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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86
shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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88
retrospect
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| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
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cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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91
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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92
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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93
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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94
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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95
mnemonics
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| n.记忆术 | |
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96
appendages
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| n.附属物( appendage的名词复数 )；依附的人；附属器官；附属肢体（如臂、腿、尾等） | |
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97
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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98
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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100
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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101
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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102
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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103
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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104
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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105
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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106
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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107
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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108
blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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109
heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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110
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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111
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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112
tassel
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| n.流苏，穗；v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须 | |
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113
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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114
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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115
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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116
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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117
irrelevantly
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| adv.不恰当地，不合适地；不相关地 | |
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118
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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119
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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120
argot
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| n.隐语，黑话 | |
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121
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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122
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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123
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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124
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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125
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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126
insignificantly
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127
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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128
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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129
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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130
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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131
conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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132
atheism
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| n.无神论，不信神 | |
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133
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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134
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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135
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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136
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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137
dissertations
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| 专题论文，学位论文( dissertation的名词复数 ) | |
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138
degenerated
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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139
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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140
conversationally
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| adv.会话地 | |
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141
dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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142
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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143
shibboleths
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| n.（党派、集团等的）准则( shibboleth的名词复数 )；教条；用语；行话 | |
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144
albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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145
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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146
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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147
demolish
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| v.拆毁(建筑物等)，推翻(计划、制度等) | |
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148
reciprocated
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| v.报答，酬答( reciprocate的过去式和过去分词 )；（机器的部件）直线往复运动 | |
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149
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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150
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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151
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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152
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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153
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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154
omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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155
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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156
aerated
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| v.使暴露于空气中，使充满气体( aerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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157
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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158
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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159
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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160
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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161
avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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162
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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163
impecunious
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| adj.不名一文的，贫穷的 | |
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164
deficient
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| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
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165
fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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166
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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167
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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168
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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170
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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171
bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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172
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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173
premium
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| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
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174
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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175
prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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176
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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177
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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178
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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179
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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180
ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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181
illustrating
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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182
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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183
knuckle
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| n.指节；vi.开始努力工作；屈服，认输 | |
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184
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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185
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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186
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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187
tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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188
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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189
dwindle
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| v.逐渐变小（或减少） | |
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190
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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191
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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192
conducive
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| adj.有益的，有助的 | |
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193
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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194
conscientiousness
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| 责任心 | |
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195
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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196
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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197
blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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198
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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199
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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200
subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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201
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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202
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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203
knaves
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| n.恶棍，无赖( knave的名词复数 )；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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204
reciprocating
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| adj.往复的；来回的；交替的；摆动的v.报答，酬答( reciprocate的现在分词 )；（机器的部件）直线往复运动 | |
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205
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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206
justifications
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| 正当的理由，辩解的理由( justification的名词复数 ) | |
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207
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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208
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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209
avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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210
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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211
conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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212
deduct
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| vt.扣除，减去 | |
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213
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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214
mitigate
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| vt.（使）减轻，（使）缓和 | |
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215
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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216
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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