PROFESSOR LORING G. HIBBART, of Purewater University, Clio, N. Y., settled himself in the corner of his compartment1 in the Marseilles–Ventimiglia express, drew his velvet2 ear-pads from his pocket, slipped them over his ears, and began to think.
It was nearly three weeks since he had been able to indulge undisturbed in this enchanting3 operation. On the steamer which had brought him from Boston to Marseilles considerable opportunity had in truth been afforded him, for though he had instantly discovered his fellow-passengers to be insinuating4 and pervasive5, an extremely rough passage had soon reduced them to inoffensiveness. Unluckily the same cause had in like manner affected6 the Professor; and when the ship approached calmer waters, and he began to revive, the others revived also, and proceeded to pervade7, to insinuate8 and even to multiply — since a lady gave birth to twins as they entered the Mediterranean9.
As for the tumultuous twenty-four hours since his landing, the Professor preferred not to include them in his retrospect10. It was enough that they were over. “All I want is quiet,” he had said to the doctors who, after his alarming attack of influenza11, followed by bronchial pneumonia12, had ordered an immediate13 departure for warmer climes; and they had thrust him onto an excursion-steamer jammed with noisy sight-seers, and shipped him to a port whither all the rest of the world appeared to be bound at the same moment! His own fault, perhaps? Well — he never could plan or decide in a hurry, and when, still shaken by illness, he had suddenly been told that he must spend six months in a mild climate, and been faced with the alternatives of southern California or southern France, he had chosen the latter because it meant a more complete escape from professional associations and the terror of meeting people one knew. As far as climate went, he understood the chances to be equal; and all he wanted was to recover from his pulmonary trouble and employ his enforced leisure in writing a refutation of Einstein’s newly published book on Relativity.
Once the Professor had decided14 on the south of France, there remained the difficulty of finding, in that populous15 region, a spot quiet enough to suit him; but after much anxious consultation16 with colleagues who shared his dread17 of noise and of promiscuous18 human intercourse19, he had decided on a secluded20 pension high up in the hills, between Monte Carlo and Mentone. In this favoured spot, he was told, no dogs barked, cocks crew or cats courted. There were no waterfalls, or other sonorous21 natural phenomena22, and it was utterly23 impossible for a motor (even with its muffler knocked off) to ascend24 the precipitous lane which led to the pension. If, in short, it were possible to refute Einstein’s theory, it was in just such a place, and there only, that the feat25 might be accomplished26.
Once settled in the train, the Professor breathed more freely. Most of his fellow-passengers had stayed on the ship, which was carrying them on to swarm27 over a succession of other places as he had just left them swarming28 over Marseilles. The train he got into was not very crowded, and should other travellers enter the compartment, his ear-pads would secure him from interruption. At last he could revert29 to the absorbing thought of the book he was planning; could plunge30 into it like a diver into the ocean. He drew a deep breath and plunged31 . . .
Certainly the compartment had been empty when the train left Marseilles — he was sure of that; but he seemed to remember now that a man had got in at a later station, though he couldn’t have said where or when; for once he began to think, time vanished from him as utterly as space.
He became conscious of the intruding32 presence only from the smell of tobacco gradually insinuating itself into his nostrils33. Very gradually; for when the Professor had withdrawn34 into his inner stronghold of Pure Reason, and pulled up the ladder, it was not easy for any appeal to reach him through the channel of the senses. Not that these were defective35 in him. Far from it: he could smell and see, taste and hear, with any man alive; but for many years past he had refrained from exercising these faculties36 except in so far as they conduced to the maintenance of life and security. He would have preferred that the world should contain nothing to see, nothing to smell, nothing to hear; and by negativing persistently37 every superfluous38 hint of his visual, auditive or olfactory39 organs he had sheathed40 himself in a general impenetrability of which the ear-pads were merely a restricted symbol.
His noticing the whiff of tobacco was an accident, a symptom of his still disorganized state; he put the smell resolutely41 from him, registered “A Man Opposite,” and plunged again into the Abstract.
Once — about an hour later, he fancied — the train stopped with a jerk which flung him abruptly42 out of his corner. His mental balance was disturbed, and for one irritating instant his gaze unwillingly43 rested on silver groves44, purple promontories45 and a blue sea. “Ugh — scenery!” he muttered; and with a renewed effort of the will he dropped his mental curtain between that inconsequent jumble46 of phenomena and the absolutely featureless area in which the pure intellect thrones. The incident had brought back the smell of his neighbour’s cigarette; but the Professor sternly excluded that also, and the train moved on . . .
Professor Hibbart was in truth a man of passionately47 excitable nature: no one was ever, by temperament48, less adapted to the lofty intellectual labours in which his mind delighted. He asked only to live in the empyrean; but he was perpetually being dragged back to earth by the pity, wrath49 or contempt excited in him by the slipshod course of human affairs. There were only two objects on which he flattered himself he could always look with a perfectly50 unseeing eye; and these were a romantic landscape and a pretty woman. And he was not absolutely sure about the landscape.
Suddenly a touch, soft yet peremptory51, was laid on his arm. Looking down, he beheld52 a gloved hand; looking up he saw that the man opposite him was a woman.
To this awkward discovery he was still prepared to oppose the blank wall of the most complete imperception. But a sharp pinch proved that the lady who had taken hold of his arm had done so with the fixed53 determination to attract his attention, at the cost of whatever pain or inconvenience to himself. As she appeared also to be saying something — probably asking if the next station were the one at which she ought to get out — he formed with soundless lips the word “Deaf,” and pointed54 to his ears. The lady’s reply was to release his wrist, and with her free hand flick55 off an ear-pad.
“Deaf? Oh, no,” she said briskly, in fluent but exotic English. “You wouldn’t need ear-pads if you were. You don’t want to be bothered — that’s all. I know the trick; you got it out of Herbert Spencer!”
The assault had nearly disabled the Professor for farther resistance; but he rallied his wits and answered stonily56: “I have no time-table. You’d better consult the guard.”
The lady threw her spent cigarette out of the window. As the smoke drifted away from her features he became uneasily aware that they were youthful, and that the muscles about her lips and eyes were contracted into what is currently known as a smile. In another moment, he realized with dismay, he was going to know what she looked like. He averted57 his eyes.
“I don’t want to consult the guard — I want to consult you,” said the lady.
His ears took reluctant note of an intonation58 at once gay and appealing, which caressed59 the “You” as if it were a new pronoun rich in vowels60, and the only one of its kind in the world.
“Eeee-you,” she repeated.
He shook his averted head. “I don’t know the name of a single station on this line.”
“Dear me, don’t you?” The idea seemed to shock her, to make a peculiar61 appeal to her sympathy. “But I do — every one of them! With my eyes shut. Listen: I’ll begin at the beginning. Paris — ”
“But I don’t want to know them!” he almost screamed.
“Well, neither do I. What I want is to ask you a favour — just one tiny little enormous favour.”
The Professor still looked away. “I have been in very bad health until recently,” he volunteered.
“Oh, I’m so glad — glad, I mean,” she corrected herself hastily, “that you’re all right again now! And glad too that you’ve been ill, since that just confirms it — ”
Here the Professor fell. “Confirms what?” he snapped, and saw too late the trap into which he had plunged.
“My belief that you are predestined to help me,” replied his neighbour with joyful62 conviction.
“Oh, but that’s quite a mistake — a complete mistake. I never in my life helped anybody, in any way. I’ve always made it a rule not to.”
“Not even a Russian refugee?”
“Never!”
“Oh, yes, you have. You’ve helped me!”
The Professor turned an ireful glance upon her, and she nodded. “I am a Russian refugee.”
“You?” he exclaimed. His eyes, by this time, had definitely escaped from his control, and were recording63 with an irrepressible activity and an exasperating64 precision the details of her appearance and her dress. Both were harmonious65 and opulent. He laughed incredulously.
“Why do you laugh? Can’t you see that I’m a refugee; by my clothes, I mean? Who has such pearls but Russian refugees? Or such sables66? We have to have them — to sell, of course You don’t care to buy my sables, do you? For you they would be only six thousand pounds cash. No, I thought not. It’s my duty to ask — but I didn’t suppose they would interest you. The Paris and London jewellers farm out the pearls to us; the big dressmakers supply the furs. For of course we’ve all sold the originals long ago. And really I’ve been rather successful. I placed two sets of silver fox and a rope of pearls last week at Monte Carlo. Ah, that fatal place! I gambled away the whole of my commission the same night . . . But I’m forgetting to tell you how you’ve already helped me . . . ”
She paused to draw breath, and in the pause the Professor, who had kept his hand on his loosened ear-pad, slipped it back over his ear.
“I wear these,” he said coldly, “to avoid argument.”
With a flick she had it off again. “I wasn’t going to argue — I was only going to thank you.”
“I can’t conceive for what. In any case, I don’t want to be thanked.”
Her brows gathered resentfully. “Why did you ask to be, then?” she snapped; and opening a bejewelled wrist-bag she drew forth67 from a smother68 of cigarette-papers and pawn-tickets a slip of paper on which her astonished companion read a phrase written in a pointed feminine hand, but signed with his own name.
“There!”
The Professor took the paper and scanned it indignantly. “This copy of ‘The Elimination69 of Phenomena’ was presented by Professor Loring G. Hibbart of Purewater University, Clio, N. Y., to the library of the American Y. M. C. A. Refugee Centre at Odessa.
“A word of appreciation70, sent by any reader to the above address, would greatly gratify Loring G. Hibbart.”
“There!” she repeated. “Why did you ask to be thanked if you didn’t want to be? What else does ‘greatly gratify’ mean? I couldn’t write to you from Odessa because I hadn’t the money to buy a stamp; but I’ve longed ever since to tell you what your book did for me. It simply changed my whole life — books do sometimes, you know. I saw everything differently — even our Refugee Centre! I decided at once to give up my lover and divorce my husband. Those were my two first Eliminations71.” She smiled retrospectively. “But you mustn’t think I’m a frivolous72 person. I have my degree as a Doctor of Philosophy — I took it at sixteen, at the University of Moscow. I gave up philosophy the year after for sculpture; the next year I gave up sculpture for mathematics and love. For a year I loved. After that I married Prince Balalatinsky. He was my cousin, and enormously wealthy. I need not have divorced him, as it turned out, for he was soon afterward73 buried alive by the Bolsheviks. But how could I have foreseen it? And your book had made me feel — ”
“Good gracious!” the author of the book interrupted desperately74. “You don’t suppose I wrote that rubbish about wanting to be thanked, do you?”
“Didn’t you? How could I tell? Almost all the things sent from America to the refugee camp came with little labels like that. You all seemed to think we were sitting before perfectly appointed desks, with fountain pens and stamp-cases from Bond Street in our pockets. I remember once getting a lip-stick and a Bernard Shaw calendar labelled: ‘If the refugee who receives these would write a line of thanks to little Sadie Burt of Meropee Junction75, Ga., who bought them out of her own savings76 by giving up chewing-gum for a whole month, it would make a little American girl very happy.’ Of course I was sorry not to be able to write to little Sadie.” She broke off, and then added: “Do you know, I was sure you were my Professor as soon as I saw your name on your suit-case?”
“Good Lord!” groaned77 the Professor.
He had forgotten to remove the obligatory78 steamer-labels! Instinctively79 he reached out a hand to tear off the offending member; but again a gesture of the Princess’s arrested him. “It’s too late now. And you can’t surely grudge80 me the pleasure of thanking you for your book?”
“But I didn’t ask — ”
“No; but I wanted to. You see, at that time I had quite discarded philosophy. I was living in the Actual — with a young officer of Preobrajensky — when the war broke out. And of course in our camp at Odessa the Actual was the very thing one wanted to get away from. And your book took me straight back into that other world where I had known my only pure happiness. Purity — what a wonderful thing it is! What a pity it is so hard to keep; like money, and everything else really valuable! But I’m thankful for any little morsel81 of it that I’ve had. When I was only ten years old — ”
But suddenly she drew back and nestled down into her lustrous82 furs. “You thought I was going to tell you the story of my life? No. Put your ear-pads on again. I know now why you wear them — because you’re planning a new book. Is it not so? You see I can read your thoughts. Go on — do! I would rather assist at the birth of a masterpiece than chatter83 about my own insignificant84 affairs.”
The Professor smiled. If she thought masterpieces were born in that way — between railway stations, and in a whirl of prattle85 I Yet he was not wholly angry. Either because it had been unexpectedly agreeable to hear his book praised, or because of that harmonious impression which, now that he actually saw her, a protracted86 scrutiny87 confirmed, he began to feel more tolerantly toward his neighbour. Deliberately88, his eyes still on hers, he pushed the other ear-pad away.
“Oh — ” she said with a little gasp89. “Does that mean I may go on talking?” But before he could answer, her face clouded. “I know — it only means that I might as well, now that I’ve broken in on your meditations90. I’m dreadfully penitent91; but luckily you won’t have me for long, for I’m getting out at Cannes, and Cannes is the next station. And that reminds me of the enormous little favour I have to ask.”
The Professor’s face clouded also: he had a nervous apprehension92 of being asked favours. “My fountain pen,” he said, regaining93 firmness of tone, “is broken.”
“Ah — you thought I meant to ask for your autograph? Or perhaps for a cheque?” (Lord, how quick she was!) She shook her head. “No, I don’t care for compulsory94 autographs. And I’m not going to ask for money — I’m going to give you some.”
He faced her with renewed dismay. Could it be —? After all, he was not more than fifty-seven; and the blameless life he had led had perhaps helped to preserve a certain . . . at least that was one theory . . . In these corrupt95 European societies what might a man not find himself exposed to? With some difficulty he executed a pinched smile.
“Money?”
She nodded again. “Oh, don’t laugh! Don’t think I’m joking. It’s your ear-pads,” she disconcertingly added.
“Yes. If you hadn’t put them on I should never have spoken to you; for it wasn’t till afterward that I saw your name on the suitcase. And after that I should have been too shy to break in on the meditations of a Great Philosopher. But you see I have been watching — oh, for years! — for your ear-pads.”
He stared at her helplessly. “You want to buy them from me?” he asked in terror, wondering how on earth he would be able to get others in a country of which he did not speak the language.
She burst into a laugh that ran up and down the whole scale of friendly derision and tender mockery.
“Buy them? Gracious, no! I could make myself a better pair in five minutes.” She smiled at his visible relief. “But you see I’m ruined — stony96 broke; isn’t that what they call it? I have a young American friend who is always saying that about himself. And once in the Caucasus, years ago, a gipsy told me that if ever I had gambled away my last penny (and I nearly have) it would all be won back by a pale intellectual looking man in velvet ear-pads, if only I could induce him to put a stake on the tables for me.” She leaned forward and scrutinized97 him. “You are very pale, you know,” she said, “and very intellectual looking. I was sure it was you when you told me you’d been ill.”
Professor Loring D. Hibbart looked about him desperately. He knew now that he was shut up with a madwoman. A harmless one, probably; but what if, in the depths of that jewelled bag, a toy revolver lurked98 under the pawn-tickets and the cigarette papers? The Professor’s life had been so guarded from what are known as “exciting situations” that he was not sure of his ability to meet one with becoming tact99 and energy.
“I suppose I’m a physical coward,” he reflected bitterly, an uncomfortable dampness breaking out all over him. “And I know,” he added in self-extenuation, “that I’m in no condition yet for any sort of a struggle . . . ”
But what did one do with lunatics? If only he could remember! And suddenly he did: one humoured them!
Fortified100 by the thought, he made shift to glance more kindly101 toward the Princess Balalatinsky. “So you want me to gamble for you?” he said, in the playful tone he might have adopted in addressing little Sadie Burt of Meropee.
“Oh, how glorious of you! You will? I knew you would! But first,” she broke off, “you must let me explain — ”
“Oh, do explain, of course,” he agreed, rapidly calculating that her volubility might make the explanation last until they reached the next station, where, as she had declared, she was to leave the train.
Already her eye was less wild; and he drew an inward breath of relief.
“You angel, you! I do,” she confessed, “simply love to talk about myself. And I’m sure you’ll be interested when I tell you that, if you’ll only do as I ask, I shall be able to marry one of your own compatriots — such a beautiful heroic youth! It is for him, for him only, that I long to be wealthy again. If you loved, could you bear to see your beloved threatened with starvation?”
“But I thought,” he gently reminded her, “that it was you who were threatened with starvation?”
“We both are. Isn’t it terrible? You see, when we met and loved, we each had the same thought — to make the other wealthy! It was not possible, at the moment, for either of us to attain102 our end by the natural expedient103 of a rich marriage with reasonable prospect104 of a quick divorce — so we staked our all at those accursed tables, and we both lost! My poor betrothed105 has only a few hundred francs left, and as for me, I have had to take a miserably106 paid job as a dressmaker’s mannequin at Cannes. But I see you are going on to Monte Carlo (yes, that’s on your luggage too); and as I don’t suppose you will spend a night there without visiting the rooms, I— ” She was pulling forth the hundred francs from her inexhaustible bag when the Professor checked her with dismay. Mad though she might be, he could not even make believe to take her money.
“I’m not spending a night at Monte Carlo,” he protested. “I’m only getting out there to take a motorbus for a quiet place up in the hills; I’ve the name written down somewhere; my room is engaged, so I couldn’t possibly wait over,” he argued gently.
She looked at him with what seemed to his inflamed107 imagination the craftiness108 of a maniac109. “Don’t you know that our train is nearly two hours late? I don’t suppose you noticed that we ran over a crowded excursion charabanc near Toulon? Didn’t you even hear the ambulances rushing up? Your motorbus will certainly have left Monte Carlo when you arrive, so you’ll have to spend the night there! And even if you don’t,” she added persuasively110, “the station’s only two steps from the Casino, and you surely can’t refuse just to nip in for half an hour.” She clasped her hands in entreaty111. “You wouldn’t refuse if you knew my betrothed — your young compatriot! If only we had a few thousands all would go smoothly112. We should be married at once and go to live on his ancestral estate of Kansas. It appears the climate is that of Africa in summer and of the Government of Omsk in winter; so our plan is to grow oranges and breed sables. You see, we can hardly fail to succeed with two such crops. All we ask is enough money to make a start. And that you will get for me tonight. You have only to stake this hundred franc note; you’ll win on the first turn, and you’ll go on winning. You’ll see!”
With one of her sudden plunges113 she pried114 open his contracted fist and pressed into it a banknote wrapped in a torn envelope. “Now listen; this is my address at Cannes. Princess Balala — oh, here’s the station. Goodbye, guardian115 angel. No, “au revoir”; I shall see you soon. They call me Betsy at the dressmaker’s . . . ”
Before he could open his convulsed fingers, or dash out after her, she had vanished, bag and baggage, in the crowd and confusion of the platform; other people, pushing and chattering116 and tearing themselves from the embrace of friends, had piled into her place, and were waving from the window, and blocking the way out; and now the train was moving on, and there he sat in his corner, aghast, clutching the banknote . . .
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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pervasive
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| adj.普遍的；遍布的，(到处)弥漫的；渗透性的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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pervade
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| v.弥漫，遍及，充满，渗透，漫延 | |
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insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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retrospect
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| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
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influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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dread
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promiscuous
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| adj.杂乱的，随便的 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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phenomena
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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feat
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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revert
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| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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intruding
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nostrils
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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defective
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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persistently
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superfluous
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olfactory
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sheathed
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| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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43
unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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44
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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promontories
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| n.岬，隆起，海角( promontory的名词复数 ) | |
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jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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48
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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49
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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51
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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52
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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53
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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stonily
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| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vowels
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| n.元音，元音字母( vowel的名词复数 ) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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sables
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| n.紫貂( sable的名词复数 )；紫貂皮；阴暗的；暗夜 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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elimination
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| n.排除，消除，消灭 | |
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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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eliminations
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| n.排除( elimination的名词复数 )；除去；根除；淘汰 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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obligatory
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| adj.强制性的，义务的，必须的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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95
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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99
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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100
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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101
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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102
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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103
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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104
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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105
betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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106
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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107
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
craftiness
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| 狡猾，狡诈 | |
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109
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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111
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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112
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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113
plunges
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| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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114
pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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115
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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116
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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