Drogheda lost perhaps a fifth of its acreage in the fire, and 25,000 sheep, a mere13 bagatelle14 to a station whosesheep tally15 in the recent good years lay in the neighborhood of 125,000. There was absolutely no point in railingat the malignity16 of fate, or the wrath17 of God, however those concerned might choose to regard a natural disaster.
The only thing to do was cut the losses and begin again. In no case was it the first time, and in no case didanyone assume it would be the last. But to see Drogheda's homestead gardens bare and brown in spring hurtbadly. Against drought they could survive thanks to Michael Carson's water tanks, but in a fire nothing survived.
Even the wistaria failed to bloom; when the flames came its tender clusters of buds were just forming, andshriveled. Roses were crisped, pansies were dead, stocks turned to sepia straw, fuchsias in shady spots witheredpast rejuvenation21, babies' breath smothered23, sweet pea vines were sere25 and scentless27. What had been bled fromthe water tanks during the fire was replaced by the heavy rain that followed hard on it, so everyone on Droghedasacrificed a nebulous spare time to helping28 old Tom bring the gardens back.
Bob decided29 to keep on with Paddy's policy of more hands to run Drogheda, and put on three more stockmen;Mary Carson's policy had been to keep no permanent non-Cleary men on her books, preferring to hire extrahands at mustering30, lambing and shearing32 time, but Paddy felt the men worked better knowing they hadpermanent jobs, and it didn't make much difference in the long run. Most stockmen were chronically33 afflictedwith itchy feet, and never stayed very long anywhere.
The new houses sitting farther back from the creek34 were inhabited by married men; old Tom had a neat newthree-room cottage under a pepper tree behind the horse yards, and cackled with proprietary36 glee every time heentered it. Meggie continued to look after some of the inner paddocks, and her mother the books.
Fee had taken over Paddy's task of communicating with Bishop38 Ralph, and being Fee failed to pass on anyinformation save those items concerned with the running of the station. Meggie longed to snatch his letters, readthem greedily, but Fee gave her no chance to do so, locking them in a steel box the moment she had digestedtheir contents. With Paddy and Stu gone there was just no reaching Fee. As for Meggie, the minute Bishop Ralphhad gone Fee forgot all about her promise. Meggie answered dance and party invitations with polite negatives;aware of it, Fee never remonstrated40 with her or told her she ought to go. Liam O'Rourke seized any opportunityto drive over; Enoch Davies phoned constantly, so did Connor Carmichael and Alastair MacQueen. But witheach of them Meggie was prooccupied, curt41, to the point where they despaired of interesting her.
The summer was very wet, but not in spates43 protracted45 enough to cause flooding, only keeping the groundperpetually muddy and the thousand-mile Barwon-Darling flowing deep, wide and strong. When winter camesporadic rain continued; the flying brown sheets were made up of water, not dust. Thus the Depression march offoot-loose men along the track tapered46 off, for it was hell tramping through the blacksoil plains in a wet season,and with cold added to damp, pneumonia48 raged among those not able to sleep under warm shelter.
Bob was worried, and began to talk of foot rot among the sheep if. it kept up; merinos couldn't take muchmoisture in the ground without developing diseased hoofs. The shearing had been almost impossible, for shearerswould not touch soaked wool, and unless the mud dried before lambing many offspring would die in the soddenearth and the cold.
The phone jangled its two longs, one short for Drogheda; Fee answered and turned.
"Bob, the AMLAND for you.""Hullo, Jimmy, Bob here . . . . Yeah, righto. . . . Oh, good! References all in order? . . . Righto, send him out tosee me .... Righto, if he's that good you can tellhim he's probably got the job, but I still want to see him formyself; don't like pigs in pokes50 and don't trust references . . . . Righto, thanks. Hooroo."Bob sat down again. "New stockman coming, a good bloke according to Jimmy. Been working out on the WestQueensland plains around Longreach and Charlville. Was a drover, too. Good references and all aboveboard.
Can sit anything with four legs and a tail, used to break horses. Was a shearer49 before that, gun shearer too,Jimmy says, over two fifty a day. That's what makes me a bit suspicious. Why would a gun shearer want to workfor stockman's wages? Not too often a gun shearer will give up the bo)i for a saddle. Be handy paddockcrutching,though, eh?" With the passing of the years Bob's accent grew more drawling and Australian but hissentences shorter in compensation. He was creeping up toward thirty, and much to Meggie's disappointmentshowed no sign of being smitten52 with any of the eligible53 girls he met at the few festivities decency54 forced them toattend. For one thing he was painfully shy, and for another he seemed utterly56 wrapped in the land, apparentlypreferring to love it without distraction58. Jack59 and Hughie grew more and more like him; indeed, they could havepassed for triplets as they sat together on one of the hard marble benches, the closest to comfortable houseboundrelaxa tion they could get. They seemed actually to prefer camping out in the paddocks, and when sleeping athome stretched out on the floors of their bedrooms, frightened that beds might soften60 them. The sun, the windand the dryness had weathered their fair, freckled61 skins to a sort of mottled mahogany, in which their blue eyesshone pale and tranquil62, with the deep creases63 beside them speaking of gazing into far distances and silver-beigegrass. It was almost impossible to tell what age they were, or which was the oldest and which the youngest. Eachhad Paddy's Roman nose and kind homely64 face, but better bodies than Paddy's, which had been stooped andarm-elongated65 from so many years shearing. They had developed the spare, easy beauty of horsemen instead.
Yet for women and comfort and pleasure they did not pine.
"Is the new man married?" asked Fee, drawing neat lines with a ruler and a red-inked pen.
"Dunno, didn't ask. Know tomorrow when he comes.""How is he getting here?""Jimmy's driving him out; got to see about those old wethers in Tankstand." "Well, let's hope he stays awhile. Ifhe's not married he'll be off again in a few weeks, I suppose. Wretched people, stockmen," said Fee. Jims andPatsy were boarding at Riverview, vowing67 they wouldn't stay at school a minute longer than the fourteen years ofage which was legal. They burned for the day when they would be out in the paddocks with Bob, Jack andHughie, when Drogheda could run on family again and the outsiders would be welcome to come and go asfrequently as they pleased. Sharing the family passion for reading didn't endear Riverview to them at all; a bookcould be carried in a saddlebag or a jacket pocket and read with far more pleasure in the noonday shade of awilga than in a Jesuit classroom. It had been a hard transition for them, boarding school. The big-windowedclassrooms, the spacious68 green playing fields, the wealth of gardens and facilities meant nothing to them, nor didSydney with its museums, concert halls and art galleries. They chummed up with the sons of other graziers andspent their leisure hours longing70 for home, or boasting about the size and splendor71 of Drogheda to awed72 butbelieving ears; anyone west of Burren Junction73 had heard of mighty74 Drogheda.
Several weeks passed before Meggie saw the new stockman. His name had been duly entered in the books,Luke O'neill, and he was already talked about in the big house far more than stockmen usually were. For onething, he had refused to bunk75 in the jackaroos" barracks but had taken up residence in the last empty house uponthe creek. For another, he had introduced himself to Mrs. Smith, and was in that lady's good books, though shedidn't usually care for stockmen. Meggie was quite curious about him long before she met him.
Since she kept the chestnut76 mare77 and the black gelding in the stables rather than the stockyards and was mostlyobliged to start out later of a morning than the men, she would often go long periods of time without running intoany of the hired people. But she finally met Luke O'neill late one afternoon as the summer sun was flaring78 redlyover the trees and the long shadows crept toward the gentle oblivion of night. She was coming back fromBorehead to the ford79 across the creek, he was coming in from southeast and farther out, also on a course for theford.
The sun was in his eyes, so she saw him before he saw her, and he was riding a big mean bay with a black maneand tail and black points; she knew the animal well because it was her job to rotate the work horses, and she hadwondered why this particular beast was not so much in evidence these days. None of the men cared for it, neverrode it if they could help. Apparently57 the new stockman didn't mind it at all, which certainly indicated he couldride, for it was a notorious earlymorning bucker and had a habit of snapping at its rider's head the moment hedismounted.
It was hard to tell a man's height when he was on horseback, for Australian stockmen used small Englishsaddles minus the high cantle and horn of the American saddle, and rode with their knees bent80, sitting veryupright. The new man seemed tall, but sometimes height was all in the trunk, the legs disproportionately short, soMeggiie reserved judgment81. However, unlike most stockmen he preferred a white shirt and white moleskins togrey flannel82 and grey twill; somewhat of a dandy, she decided, amused. Good luck to him, if he didn't mind thebother of so much washing and ironing.
"G'day, Missus!" he called as they converged83, doffing84 his battered85 old grey felt hat and replacing it rakishly onthe back of his head. Laughing blue eyes looked at Meggie in undisguised admiration87 as she drew alongside.
"Well, you're certainly not the Missus, so you've got to be the daughter," he said. "I'm Luke O'neill."Meggie muttered something but wouldn't look at him again, so confused and angry she couldn't think of anyappropriately light conversation. Oh, it wasn't fair! How dare someone else have eyes and face like Father Ralph!
Not the way he looked at her: the mirth was something of his own and he had no love burning for her there; fromthe first moment of seeing Father Ralph kneeling in the dust of the Gilly station yard Meggie had seen love in hiseyes. To look into his eyes and not see him! It was a cruel joke, a punishment.
Unaware88 of the thoughts his companion harbored, Luke O'neill kept his wicked bay beside Meggie's demuremare as they splashed through the creek, still running strong from so much rain. She was a beauty, all right! Thathair! What was simply carrots on the male Clearys was something else again on this little sprig. If only shewould look up, give him a better chance to see that face! Just then she did, with such a look on it that his browscame together, puzzled; not as if she hated him, exactly, but as if she was trying to see something and couldn't, orhad seen something and wished she hadn't. Or whatever. It seemed to upset her, anyway. Luke was not used tobeing weighed in a feminine balance and found wanting. Caught naturally in a deli- cious trap of sunset-gold hairand soft eyes, his interest only fed on her displeasure and disappointment. Still she was watching him, pinkmouth fallen slightly open, a silky dew of sweat on her upper lip and forehead because it was so hot, her reddish-gold brows arched in seeking wonderment. He grinned to reveal Father Ralph's big white teeth; yet it was notFather Ralph's smile. "Do you know you look exactly like a baby, all oh! and ah!?"She looked away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You reminded me of someone, that's all.""Stare all you like. It's better than looking at the top of your head, pretty though that might be. Who do I remindyou of?" "No one important. It's just strange, seeing someone familiar and yet terribly unfamiliar90.""What's your name, little Miss Cleary?""Meggie.""Meggie . . . It hasn't got enough dignity, it doesn't suit you a bit. I'd rather you were called something likeBelinda or Madeline, but if Meggie's the best you've got to offer, I'll go for it. What's the Meggie stand for-Margaret?""No, Meghann.""Ah, now that's more like! I'll call you Meghann.""No, you won't!" she snapped. "I detest91 it!"But he only laughed. "You've had too much of your own way, little Miss Meghann. If I want to call youEustacia Sophronia Augusta, I will, you know." They had reached the stockyards; he slipped off his bay, aiminga punch at its snapping head which rocked it into submission92, and stood, obviously waiting for her to offer himher hands so he could help her down. But she touched the chestnut mare with her heels and walked on up thetrack. "Don't you put the dainty lady with the common old stockmen?" he called after her.
"Certainly not!" she answered without turning. Oh, it wasn't fair! Even on his own two feet he was like FatherRalph; as tall, as broad in the shoulders and narrow in the hips93, and with something of the same grace, thoughdifferently employed. Father Ralph moved like a dancer, Luke O'neill like an athlete. His hair was as thick andblack and curling, his eyes as blue, his nose as fine and straight, his mouth as well cut.
And yet he was no more like Father Ralph than-than than a ghost gum, so tall and pale and splendid, was like ablue gum, also tall and pale and splendid.
After that chance meeting Meggie kept her ears open for opinions and gossip about Luke O'neill. Bob and theboys were pleased with his work and seemed to get along well with him; apparently he hadn't a lazy bone in hisbody, according to Bob. Even Fee brought his name up in conversation one evening by remarking that he was avery handsome man.
"Does he remind you of anyone?" Meggie asked idly, flat on her stomach on the carpet reading a book.
Fee considered the question for a moment. "Well, I suppose he's a bit like Father de Bricassart. The same build,the same coloring. But it isn't a striking likeness95; they're too different as men. "Meggie, I wish you'd sit in a chairlike a lady to read! Just because you're in jodhpurs you don't have to forget modesty96 entirely97." "Pooh!" saidMeggie. "As if anyone notices!"And so it went. There was a likeness, but the men behind the faces were so unalike only Meggie was plaguedby it, for she was in love with one of them and resented finding the other attractive. In the kitchen she found hewas a prime favorite, and also discovered how he could afford the luxury of wearing white shirts and whitebreeches into the paddocks; Mrs. Smith washed and ironed them for him, succumbing99 to his ready, beguilingcharm. "Och, what a fine Irishman he is and all!" Minnie sighed ecstatically. "He's an Australian," said Meggieprovocatively. "Born here, maybe, Miss Meggie darlin', but wit' a name like O'neill now, he's as Irish as Paddy'spigs, not meanin' any disrespect to yer sainted father, Miss Meggie, may he rest in peace and sing wit' the angels.
Mr. Luke not Irish, and him wit' that black hair, thim blue eyes? In the old days the O'neills was the kings ofIreland." "I thought the O'Connors were," said Meggie slyly. Minnie's round little eyes twinkled. "Ah, well now,Miss Meggie, 'twas a big country and all.""Go on! It's about the size of Drogheda! And anyway, O'neill is an Orange name; you can't fool me.""It is that. But it's a great Irish name and it existed before there were Orangemen ever thought of. It is a namefrom Ulster parts, so it's logical there'd have to be a few of thim Orange, isn't it now? But there was the O'neill ofClandeboy and the O'neill Mor back when, Miss Meggie darlin'." Meggie gave up the battle; Minnie had longsince lost any militant102 Fenian tendencies she might once have possessed103, and could pronounce the word"Orange" without having a stroke.
About a week later she ran into Luke O'neill again, down by the creek. She suspected he had lain in wait forher, but she didn't know what to do about it if he had.
"Good afternoon, Meghann.""Good afternoon," said she, looking straight between the chestnut mare's ears.
"There's a woolshed ball at Braich y Pwll next Saturday night. Will you come with me?""Thank you for asking me, but I can't dance. There wouldn't be any point." "I'll teach you how to dance in twoflicks of a dead lamb's tail, so that's no obstacle. Since I'll be taking the squatter104's sister, do you think Bob mightlet me borrow the old Rolls, if not the new one?" "I said I wouldn't go!" she said, teeth clenched105. "You said youcouldn't dance, I said I'd teach you. You never said you wouldn't go with me if you could dance, so I assumed itwas the dancing you objected to, not me. Are you going to bark out?" Exasperated106, she glared at him fiercely, buthe only laughed at her.
"You're spoiled rotten, young Meghann; it's time you didn't get all your own way.""I'm not spoiled!""Go on, tell me another! The only girl, all those brothers to run round after you, all this land and money, a poshhouse, servants? I know the Catholic Church owns it, but the Clearys aren't short of a penny either." That was thebig difference between them! she thought triumphantly107; it had been eluding108 her since she met him. Father Ralphwould never have fallen for outward trappings, but this man lacked his sensitivity; he had no inbuilt antennae109 totell him what lay beneath the surface. He rode through life without an idea in his head about its complexity110 or itspain.
Flabbergasted, Bob handed over the keys to the new Rolls without a murmur111; he had stared at Luke for amoment without speaking, then grinned. "I never thought of Meggie going to a dance, but take her, Luke, andwelcome! I daresay she'd like it, the poor little beggar. She never gets out much. We ought to think of taking her,but somehow we never do." "Why don't you and Jack and Hughie come, too?" Luke asked, apparently not averseto company.
Bob shook his head, horrified113. "No, thanks. We're not too keen on dances." Meggie wore her ashes-of-rosesdress, not having anything else to wear; it hadn't occurred to her to use some of the stockpiling pounds FatherRalph put in the bank in her name to have dresses made for parties and balls. Until now she had managed torefuse invitations, for men like Enoch Davies and Alastair MacQueen were easy to discourage with a firm no.
They didn't have Luke O'neill's gall69.
But as she stared at herself in the mirror she thought she just might go into Gilly next week when Mum madeher usual trip, visit old Gert and have her make up a few new frocks.
For she hated wearing this dress; if she had owned one other even remotely suitable, it would have been off in asecond. Other times, a different black-haired man; it was so tied up with love and dreams, tears and loneli-ness,that to wear it for such a one as Luke O'neill seemed a desecration115. She had grown used to hiding what she felt,to appearing always calm and outwardly happy. Self-control was growing around her thicker than bark on a tree,and sometimes in the night she would think of her mother, and shiver. Would she end up like Mum, cut off fromall feeling? Was this how it began for Mum back in the days when there was Frank's father? And what on earthwould Mum do, what would she say if she knew Meggie had learned the truth about Frank? Oh, that scene in thepresbytery! It seemed like yesterday, Daddy and Frank facing each other, and Ralph holding her so hard he hurt.
Shouting those awful things. Everything had fallen into place. Meggie thought she must always have known,once she did. She had grown up enough to realize there was more to getting babies than she used to think; somesort of physical contact absolutely forbidden between any but a married couple. What disgrace and humiliationpoor Mum must have gone through over Frank. No wonder she was the way she was. If it happened to her,Meggie thought, she would want to die. In books only the lowest, cheapest girls had babies outside of marriage;yet Mum wasn't cheap, could never have been cheap. With all her heart Meggie wished Mum could talk to herabout it, or that she her-self had the courage to bring up the subject. Perhaps in some small way she might havebeen able to help. But Mum wasn't the sort of person one could approach, nor would Mum do the approaching.
Meggie sighed at herself in the mirror, and hoped nothing like that ever happened to her. Yet she was young; attimes like this, staring at herself in the ashes-of-roses dress, she wanted to feel, wanted emotion to blow over herlike a strong hot wind. She didn't want to plod117 like a little automaton118 for the rest of her life, she wanted changeand vitality119 and love. Love, and a husband, and babies. What was the use of hungering after a man she couldnever have? He didn't want her, he never would want her. He said he loved her, but not as a husband would loveher. Because he was married to the Church. Did all men do that, love some inanimate thing more than they couldlove a woman? No, surely not all men. The difficult ones, perhaps, the complex ones with their seas of doubtsand objections, rationalities. But there had to be simpler men, men who could surely love a woman before allelse. Men like Luke O'neill, for instance. "I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," said Luke as hestarted the Rolls.
Compliments were quite out of Meggie's ken37; she gave him a startled sidelong glance and said nothing.
"Isn't this nice?" Luke asked, apparently not upset at her lack of enthusiasm. "Just turn a key and press a buttonon the dashboard and the car starts. No cranking a handle, no hoping the darned donk catches before a man'sexhausted. This is the life, Meghann, no doubt about it." "You won't leave me alone, will you?" she asked.
"Good Lord, no! You've come with me, haven't you? That means you're mine all night long, and I don't intendgiving anyone else a chance." "How old are you, Luke?""Thirty. How old are you?""Almost twenty-three.""As much as that, eh? You look like a baby.""I'm not a baby.""Oho! Have you ever been in love, then?""Once.""Is that all? At twenty-three? Good Lord! I'd been in and out of love a dozen times by your age.""I daresay I might have been, too, but I meet very few people to fall in love with on Drogheda. You're the firststockman I remember who said more than a shy hello.""Well, if you won't go to dances because you can't dance, you're on the outside looking in right there, aren'tyou? Never mind, we'll fix that up in no time. By the end of the evening you'll be dancing, and in a few weekswe'll have you a champion." He glanced at her quickly. "But you can't tell me some of the squatters off otherstations haven't tried to get you to come to the odd dance with them. Stockmen I can understand, you're a cutabove the usual stockman's inclinations121, but some of the sheep cockies must have given you the glad eye.""If I'm a cut above stockmen, why did you ask me?" she parried. "Oh, I've got all the cheek in the world." Hegrinned. "Come on now, don't change the subject. There must be a few blokes around Gilly who've asked." "Afew," she admitted. "But I've really never wanted to go. You pushed me into it.""Then the rest of them are sillier than pet snakes," he said. "I know a good thing when I see it."She wasn't too sure that she cared for the way he talked, but the trouble with Luke was that he was a hard manto put down. Everyone came to a woolshed dance, from squatters' sons and daughters to stockmen and theirwives if any, maidservants, governesses, town dwellers123 of all ages and sexes. For instance, these were occasionswhen female schoolteachers got the opportunity to fraternize with the stock-and-station-agent apprentices124, thebank johnnies and the real bushies off the stations.
The grand manners reserved for more formal affairs were not in evidence at all. Old Mickey O'Brien came outfrom Gilly to play the fiddle125, and there was always someone on hand to man the piano accordion126 or the buttonaccordion, taking turns to spell each other as Mickey's accompanists while the old violinist sat on a barrel or awool bale for hours playing without a rest, his pendulous127 lower lip drooling because hehad no patience withswallowing; it interfered128 with his tempo129, But it was not the sort of dancing Meggie had seen at Mary Carson'sbirthday party. This was energetic round-dancing: barn dances, jigs130, polkas, quadrilles, reels, mazurkas, SirRoger de Coverleys, with no more than a passing touching131 of the partner's hands, or a wild swirling132 in rougharms. There was no sense of intimacy134, no dreaminess. Everyone seemed to view the proceedings135 as a simpledissipation of frustrations138; romantic intrigues139 were furthered better outside, well away from the noise and bustle140.
Meggie soon discovered she was much envied her big handsome escort. He was the target of almost as manyseductive or languishing141 looks as Father Ralph used to be, and more blatantly142 so. As Father Ralph used to be.
Used to be. How terrible to have to think of him in the very remotest of all past tenses. True to his word, Lukeleft her alone only so long as it took him to visit the Men's. Enoch Davies and Liam O'Rourke were there, andeager to fill his place alongside her. He gave them no opportunity whatsoever143, and Meggie herself seemed toodazed to understand that she was quite within her rights to accept invitations to dance from men other than herescort. Though she didn't hear the comments, Luke did, secretly laughing. What a damned cheek the fellow had,an ordinary stockman, stealing her from under their noses! Disapproval144 meant nothing to Luke. They had hadtheir chances; if they hadn't made the most of them, hard luck.
The last dance was a waltz. Luke took Meggie's hand and put his arm about her waist, drew her against him. Hewas an excellent dancer. To her surprise she found she didn't need to do anything more than follow where hepropelled her. And it was a most extraordinary sen-sation to be held so against a man, to feel the muscles of hischest and thighs145, to absorb his body warmth. Her brief contacts with Father Ralph had been so intense she hadnot had time to perceive discrete146 things, and she had honestly thought that what she felt in his arms she wouldnever feel in anyone else's. Yet though this was quite different, it was exciting; her pulse rate had gone up, andshe knew he sensed it by the way he turned her suddenly, gripped her more closely, put his cheek on her hair. Asthe Rolls purred home, making light of the bumpy147 track and sometimes no track at all, they didn't speak verymuch. Braich y Pwll was seventy miles from Drogheda, across paddocks with never a house to be seen all theway, no lights of someone's home, no intrusion of humanity. The ridge148 which cut across Drogheda was not morethan a hundred feet higher than the rest of the land, but out on the black-soil plains to reach the crest149 of it waslike being on top of an Alp to a Swiss. Luke stopped the car, got out and came round to open Meggie's door. Shestepped down beside him, trembling a little; was he going to spoil everything by trying to kiss her? It was soquiet, so far from anyone!
There was a decaying dogleg wooden fence wandering off to one side, and holding her elbow lightly to makesure she didn't stumble in her frivolous150 shoes, Luke helped Meggie across the uneven151 ground, the rabbit holes.
Gripping the fence tightly and looking out over the plains, she was speechless; first from terror, then, her panicdying as he made no move to touch her, from wonder.
Almost as clearly as the sun could, the moon's still pale light picked out vast sweeping152 stretches of distance, thegrass shimmering153 and rippling155 like a restless sigh, silver and white and grey. Leaves on trees sparkled suddenlylike points of fire when the wind turned their glossy156 tops upward, and great yawning gulfs of shadows spreadunder timber stands as mysteriously as mouths of the underworld. Lifting her head, she tried to count the starsand could not; as delicate as drops of dew on a wheeling spider's web the pinpoints158 flared159, went out, flared, wentout, in a rhythm as timeless as God. They seemed to hang over her like a net, so beautiful, so very silent, sowatchful and searching of the soul, like jewel eyes of insects turned brilliant in a spotlight160, blind as to expressionand infinite as to seeing power. The only sounds were the wind hot in the grass, hissing161 trees, an occasional clankfrom the cooling Rolls, and a sleepy bird somewhere close complaining because they had broken its rest; the solesmell the fragrant162, indefinable scent26 of the bush.
Luke turned his back on the night, pulled out his tobacco pouch163 and booklet of rice papers, and began to rollhimself a cigarette. "Were you born out here, Meghann?" he asked, rubbing the strands164 of leaf back and forth165 inhis palm, lazily.
"No, I was born in New Zealand. We came to Drogheda thirteen years ago." He slipped the shaped tendrils intotheir paper sheath, twiddled it expertly between thumb and forefinger167, then licked it shut, poked168 a few wispsback inside the tube with a match end, struck the match and lit up. "You enjoyed yourself tonight, didn't you?""Oh, yes!""I'd like to take you to all the dances.""Thank you."He fell silent again, smoking quietly and looking back across the roof of the Rolls at the stand of timber wherethe irate169 bird still twittered querulously. When only a small remnant of the tube sputtered170 between his stainedfingers he dropped it on the ground and screwed his boot heel viciously down upon it until he was sure it wasout. No one kills a cigarette as dead as an Australian bushman.
Sighing, Meggie turned from the moon vista171, and he helped her to the car. He was far too wise to kiss her at thisearly stage, because he intended to marry her if he could; let her want to be kissed, first. But there were otherdances, as the summer wore on and wore itself down in bloody172, dusty spendor; gradually the homestead got usedto the fact that Meggie had found herself a very good-looking boyfriend. Her brothers forbore to tease, for theyloved her and liked him well enough. Luke O'neill was the hardest worker they had ever employed; no betterrecommendation than that existed. At heart more working class than squatter class, it never occurred to theCleary men to judge him by his lack of possessions. Fee, who might have weighed him in a more selectivebalance, didn't care sufficiently173 to do so. Anyway, Luke's calm assumption that he was different from youraverage stockman bore fruit; because of it, he was treated more like one of themselves.
It became his custom to call up the track at the big house when he was in at night and not out in the paddocks;after a while Bob declared it was silly for him to eat alone when there was plenty on the Cleary table, so he atewith them. After that it seemed rather senseless to send him a mile down the track to sleep when he was niceenough to want to stay talking to Meggie until late, so he was bidden to move into one of the small guesthousesout behind the big house.
By this time Meggie thought about him a great deal, and not as disparagingly174 as she had at first, alwayscomparing him to Father Ralph. The old sore was healing. After a while she forgot that Father Ralph had smiledso with the same mouth, while Luke smiled thus, that Father Ralph's vivid blue eyes had had a distant stillness tothem while Luke's glittered with restless passion. She was young and she had never quite got to savor175 love, if fora moment or two she had tasted it. She wanted to roll it round on her tongue, get the bou-quet of it into herlungs, spin it dizzying to her brain. Father Ralph was Bishop Ralph; he would never, never come back to her. Hehad sold her for thirteen million pieces of silver, and it rankled176. If he hadn't used the phrase that night by theborehead she would not have wondered, but he had used it, and countless177 were the nights since when she hadlain puzzling as to what he could possibly have meant.
And her hands itched178 with the feel of Luke's back when he held her close in a dance; she was stirred by him, histouch, his crisp vitality. Oh, she never felt that dark liquid fire in her bones for him, she never thought that if shedidn't see him again she would wither20 and dry up, she never twitched179 and trembled because he looked at her. Butshe had grown to know men like Enoch Davies, Liam O'Rourke, Alastair MacQueen better as Luke squired herto more and more of the district affairs, and none of them moved her the way Luke O'neill did. If they were tallenough to oblige her to look up, they would turn out not to have Luke's eyes, or if they had the same sort of eyes,they wouldn't have his hair. Something was always lacking which wasn't lacking in Luke, though just what it wasLuke possessed she didn't know. Aside from the fact that he reminded her of Father Ralph, that is, and sherefused to admit her attraction had no better basis than that.
They talked a lot, but always about general things; shearing, the land, the sheep, or what he wanted out of life,or perhaps about the places he had seen, or some political happening. He read an occasional book but he wasn'tan inveterate180 reader like Meggie, and try as she would, she couldn't seem to persuade him to read this or thatbook simply because she had found it interesting. Nor did he lead the conversation into intellectual depths; mostinteresting and irritating of all, he never evinced any interest in her life, or asked her what she wanted from it.
Sometimes she longed to talk about matters far closer to her heart than sheep or rain, but if she made a leadingstatement he was expert at deflecting182 her into more impersonal183 channels.
Luke O'neill was clever, conceited184, extremely hardworking and hungry to enrich himself. He had been born in awattle-and-daub shanty185 exactly on the Tropic of Capricorn, outside the town of Longreach in WesternQueensland. His father was the black sheep of a prosperous but unforgiving Irish family, his mother was thedaughter of the German butcher in Winton; when she insisted on marrying Luke senior, she also was disowned.
There were ten children in that humpy, none of whom possessed a pair of shoes-not that shoes mattered much intorrid Longreach. Luke senior, who shore for a living when he felt like it (but mostly all he felt like doing wasdrinking OP rum), died in a fire at the Blackall pub when young Luke was twelve years old. So as soon as hecould Luke took himself off on the shearing circuit as a tar18 boy, slapping molten tar on jagged wounds if ashearer slipped and cut flesh as well as wool. One thing Luke was never afraid of, and that was hard work; hethrived on it the way some men thrived on its opposite, whether because his father had been a barfly and a townjoke or because he had inherited his German mother's love of industry no one had ever bothered to find out. Ashe grew older he graduated from tar boy to shed hand, running down the board catching186 the great heavy fleecesas they flew off the boggis in one piece billowing up like kites, and carrying them to the wool-rolling table to beskirted. From that he learned to skirt, picking the dirt-encrusted edges off the fleeces and transferring them tobins ready for the attention of the classer, who was shed aristocrat187: the man who like a winetaster or a perfume-tester cannot be trained unless he also has instinct for the job. And Luke didn't have a classer's instinct; either heturned to pressing or to shearing if he wanted to earn more money, which he certainly did. He had the strength toman the press, tamp188 down the graded fleeces into massive bales, but a gun shearer could make more money.
By now he was well known in Western Queensland as a good worker, so he had no trouble getting himself alearner's pen. With grace, coordination189, strength and endurance, all necessary and luckily present in Luke, a mancould become a gun shearer. Soon Luke was shearing his two hundred-plus a day six days a week, a quid ahundred; and this with the narrow handpiece resembling a bo)i lizard190, hence its name. The big New Zealandhandpieces with their wide, coarse combs and cutters were illegal in Australia, though they doubled a shearer'stally.
It was grueling work; bending from his height with a sheep clamped between his knees, sweeping his bo)i inblows the length of the sheep's body to free the wool in one piece and leave as few second cuts as possible, closeenough to the loose kinky skin to please the shed boss, who would be down in a second on any shearer notconforming to his rigorous standards. He didn't mind the heat and the sweat and the thirst which forced him todrink upward of three gallons of water a day, he didn't even mind the tormenting191 hordes192 of flies, for he was bornin fly country. Nor did he mind the sheep, which were mostly a shearer's nightmare; cobblers, wets, overgrowns,snobs, dags, fly-strikes, they came in all varieties, and they were all merinos, which meant wool all the waydown to their hoofs and noses, and a cobbled fragile skin which moved like slippery paper.
No, it wasn't the work itself Luke minded, for the harder he worked the better he felt; what irked him were thenoise, the being shut inside, the stench. No place on earth was quite the hell a shearing shed was. Se he decidedhe wanted to be the boss cocky, the man who strolled up and down the lines of stooping shearers to watch thefleeces he owned being stripped away by that smooth, flawless motion.
At the end of the floor in his cane193-bottomed chair Sits the boss of the board with his eyes every where.
That was what the old shearing song said, and that was who Luke O'neill decided to be. The boss cocky, thehead peanut, the grazier, the squatter. Not for him the perpetual stoop, the elongated arms of a lifelong shearer;he wanted the pleasure of working out in the open air while he watched the money roll in. Only the prospect194 ofbecoming a dreadnought shearer might have kept Luke inside a shed, one of the rare handful of men whomanaged to shear31 over three hundred merino sheep a day, all to standard, and using narrow boggis. They madefortunes on the side by betting. But unfortunately he was just a little too tall, those extra seconds bending andducking mounted up to the difference between gun and dreadnought.
His mind turned within its limitations to another method of acquiring what he hungered for; at about this stagein his life he discovered how attractive he was to women. His first try had been in the guise86 of a stockman onGnarlunga, as that station had an heir who was female, fairly young and fairly pretty. It had been sheer bad luckthat in the end she preferred the Pommy jackaroo whose more bizarre exploits were becoming bush legend. FromGnarlunga he went to Bingelly and got a job breaking horses, his eye on the homestead where the aging andunattractive heiress lived with her widowed father. Poor Dot, he had so nearly won her; but in the end she hadfallen in with her father's wishes and married the spry sexagenarian who owned the neighboring property.
These two essays cost him over three years of his life, and he decided twenty months per heiress was far toolong and boring. It would suit him better for a while to journey far and wide, continually on the move, untilwithin this much larger sweep he found another likely prospect. Enjoying himself enormously, he began to drovethe Western Queensland stock routes, down the Cooper and the Diamantina, the Barcoo and the Bulloo Overflowdwindling through the top corner of western New South Wales. He was thirty, and it was more than time hefound the goose who would lay at least part of his golden egg. Everyone had heard of Drogheda, but Luke's earspricked up when he discovered there was an only daughter. No hope she'd inherit, but perhaps they'd want todower her with a modest 100,000 acres out around Kynuna or Winton. This was nice country around Gilly, buttoo cramped198 and forested for him. Luke yearned199 for the enormity of far western Queensland, where the grassstretched into infinity201 and trees were mostly something a man remembered as being vaguely202 eastward203. Just thegrass, on and on and on with no beginning and no end, where a man was lucky to graze one sheep for every tenacres he owned. Because sometimes there was no grass, just a flat desert of cracked, panting black soil. Thegrass, the sun, the heat and the flies; to each man his own kind of heaven, and this was Luke O'neill's. He hadprised the rest of the Drogheda story out of Jimmy Strong, the AMLANDF stock-and-station agent who drovehim out that first day, and it had been a bitter blow to discover the Catholic Church owned Drogheda. However,he had learned how few and far between female heirs to properties were; when Jimmy Strong went on to say thatthe only daughter had a nice little cash sum of her own and many doting204 brothers, he decided to carry on asplanned. But though Luke had long decided his life's objective lay in 100,000 acres out around Kynuna orWinton, and worked toward it with single-minded zeal166, the truth was that at heart he loved hard cash far morethan what it might eventually buy him; not the possession of land, nor its inherent power, but the prospect ofstockpiling rows of neat figures in his bankbook, in his name. It hadn't been Gnarlunga or Bingelly he hadwanted so desperately205, but their value in hard cash. A man who genuinely wanted to be the boss cocky wouldnever have settled for landless Meggie Cleary. Nor would he have loved the physical act of working hard as didLuke O'neill.
The dance at the Holy Cross hall in Gilly was the thirteenth dance Luke had taken Meggie to in as many weeks.
How he discovered where they were and how he wangled some of the invitations Meggie was too naive206 to guess,but regularly on a Saturday he would ask Bob for the keys to the Rolls, and take her somewhere within 150miles.
Tonight it was cold as she stood by a fence looking across a moonless landscape, and under her feet she couldfeel the crunch207 of frost. Winter was coming. Luke's arm came around her and drew her in to his side. "You'recold," he said. "I'd better get you home.""No, it's all right now, I'm getting warm," she answered breathlessly. She felt a change in him, a change in thearm held loosely and impersonally208 across her back. But it was nice to lean against him, to feel the warmthradiating from his body, the different construction of his frame. Even through her cardigan she was conscious ofhis hand, moving now in small, caressing209 circles, a tentative and questioning massage210. If at this stage sheannounced she was cold he would stop; if she said nothing, he would take it as tacit permission to proceed. Shewas young, she wanted so badly to savor love properly. This was the only man outside of Ralph who interestedher, so why not see what his kisses were like? Only let them be different! Let them not be like Ralph's kisses!
Taking her silence as acquiescence211, Luke put his other hand on her shoulder, turned her to face him, and benthis head. Was that how a mouth really felt? Why, it was no more than a sort of pressure! What was she supposedto do to indicate liking212? She moved her lips under his and at once wished she had not. The pushing downincreased; he opened his mouth wide, forced her lips apart with his teeth and tongue, and ran the tongue aroundthe inside of her mouth. Revolting. Why had it seemed so different when Ralph kissed her? She hadn't beenaware then of how wet and faintly nauseating213 it was; she hadn't seemed to think at all, only open to him like acasket when the well-known hand touches a secret spring. What on earth was he doing? Why did her body jumpso, cling to him when her mind wanted badly to pull away? Luke had found the sensitive spot on her side, andkept his fingers on it to make her writhe214; so far she wasn't exactly enthusiastic. Breaking the kiss, he put hismouth hard against the side of her neck. She seemed to like that better, her hands came up around him and shegasped, but when he slid his lips down her throat at the same time as his hand attempted to push her dress off hershoulder, she gave him a sharp shove and stepped quickly away. "That's enough, Luke!"The episode had disappointed her, half-repelled her. Luke was very aware of it as he helped her into the car androlled a much-needed cigarette. He rather fancied himself as a lover, none of the girls so far had evercomplained-but then they hadn't been ladies like Meggie. Even Dot MacPherson, the Bingelly heiress, richer byfar than Meggie, was as rough as bags, no posh Sydney boarding school and all that crap. In spite of his looksLuke was about on a par11 with the average rural workingman when it came to sexual experience; he knew little ofthe mechanics beyond what he liked himself, and he knew nothing of the theory. The numerous girls he hadmade love to were nothing loath217 to assure him they liked it, but that meant he had to rely on a certain amount ofpersonal information, not always honest, either. A girl went into any affair hoping for marriage when the manwas as attractive and hardworking as Luke, so a girl was as likely as not to lie her head off to please him. Andnothing pleased a man more than being told he was the best ever. Luke never dreamed how many men asidefrom himself had been fooled with that one. Still thinking about old Dot, who had given in and done as her fatherwanted after he locked her in the shearers' barracks for a week with a fly-blown carcass, Luke mentally shruggedhis shoulders. Meggie was going to be a tough nut to crack and he couldn't afford to frighten or disgust her. Funand games would have to wait, that was all. He'd woo her the way she obviously wanted, flowers and attentionand not too much slap and-tickle. For a while an uncomfortable silence reigned219, then Meggie sighed and slumpedback in her seat.
"I'm sorry, Luke.""I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to offend you.""Oh, no, you didn't offend me, truly! I suppose I'm not very used to it .... I was frightened, not offended.""Oh, Meghann!" He took one hand off the wheel and put it over her clasped ones. "Look, don't worry about it.
You're a bit of a girl and I went too fast. Let's forget it.
"Yes, let's," she said.
"Didn't he kiss you?" Luke asked curiously221.
"Who?"'
Was there fear in her voice? But why should there be fear in her voice? "You said you'd been in love once, so Ithought you knew the ropes. I'm sorry, Meghann. I should have realized that stuck all the way out here in afamily like yours, what you meant was you had a schoolgirl crush on some bloke who never noticed you."Yes, yes, yes! Let him think that! "You're quite right, Luke; it was just a schoolgirl crush."Outside the house he drew her to him again and gave her a gentle, lingering kiss without any open-mouth,tongue business. She didn't respond exactly, but clearly she liked it; he went off to his guesthouse more satisfiedthat he hadn't ruined his chances.
Meggie dragged herself to bed and lay looking up at the soft round halo the lamp cast on the ceiling. Well, onething had been established: there was nothing in Luke's kisses to remind her of Ralph's. And once or twicetoward the end she had felt a flicker222 of dismayed excitement, when he had dug his fingers into her side and,when he had kissed her neck. No use equating223 Luke with Ralph, and she wasn't sure anymore that she wanted totry. Better forget Ralph; he couldn't be her husband. Luke could.
The second time Luke kissed her Meggie behaved quite differently. They had been to a wonderful party onRudna Hunish, the limit of the territorial224 boundary Bob had drawn225 around their jaunts226, and the evening had gonewell from its beginning. Luke was in his best form, joking so much on the way out he kept her helpless withlaughter, then warmly loving and attentive227 toward her all through the party. And Miss Carmichael had been sodetermined to take him away from her! Stepping in where Alastair MacQueen and Enoch Davies feared to go,she attached herself to them and flirted229 with Luke blatantly, forced him for the sake of good manners to ask herto dance. It was a formal affair, the dancing ballroom230 style, and the dance Luke gave Miss Carmichael was aslow waltz. But he had come back to Meggie immediately it was over and said nothing, only cast his eyes towardthe ceiling in a way which left her in no doubt that to him Miss Carmichael was a bore. And she loved him for it;ever since the day the lady had interfered with her pleasure at the Gilly Show, Meggie had disliked her. She hadnever forgotten the way Father Ralph had ignored the lady to lift a small girl over a puddle231; now tonight Lukeshowed himself in those same colors. Oh, bravo! Luke, you're splendid!
It was a very long way home, and very cold. Luke had cajoled a packet of sandwiches and a bottle ofchampagne out of old Angus MacQueen, and when they were nearly two-thirds of the way home he stopped thecar. Heaters in cars were extremely rare in Australia then as now, but the Rolls was equipped with a heater; thatnight it was very welcome, for the frost lay two inches thick on the ground.
"Oh, isn't it nice to sit without a coat on a night like this?" Meggie smiled, taking the little silver collapsible cupof champagne232 Luke gave her, and biting into a ham sandwich.
"Yes, it is. You look so pretty tonight, Meghann."What was it about the color of her eyes? Grey wasn't normally a color he cared for, too anemic, but looking ather grey eyes he could have sworn they held every color in the blue end of the spectrum233, violet and indigo234 andthe sky on a rich clear day, deep mossy green, a hint of tawny235 yellow. And they glowed like soft, half-opaquejewels, framed by those long curling lashes237 which glittered as if they had been dipped in gold. He reached outand delicately brushed his finger along the lashes of one eye, then solemnly looked down at its tip.
"Why, Luke! What's the matter?""I couldn't resist seeing for myself that you don't have a pot of gold powder on your dressing238 table. Do youknow you're the only girl I've ever met with real gold on her eyelashes?""Oh!" She touched them herself, looked at her finger, laughed. "So I have! It doesn't come off at all." Thechampagne was tickling239 her nose and fizzing in her stomach; she felt wonderful.
"And real gold eyebrows240 that have the same shape as a church roof, and the most beautiful real gold hair. . . I always expect it to be hard like metal, yet it's soft and fine like a baby's . . . . And skin you must use goldpowder on, it shines so . . . And the most beautiful mouth, just made for kissing . . ."She sat staring at him with that tender pink mouth slightly open, the way it had been on their first meeting; hereached out and took the empty cup from her.
"I think you need a little more. champagne," he said, filling it. "I must admit this is nice, to stop and giveourselves a little break from the track. And thank you for thinking of asking Mr. MacQueen for the sandwichesand wine."The big. Rolls engine ticked gently in the silence, warm air pouring almost soundlessly through the vents241; twoseparate kinds of lulling242 noise. Luke unknotted his tie and pulled it off, opened his shirt collar. Their jackets wereon the back seat, too warm for the car.
"Oh, that feels good! I don't know who invented ties and then insisted a man was only properly dressed when hewore one, but if ever I meet him, I'll strangle him with his own invention."He turned abruptly243, lowered his face to hers, and seemed to catch the rounded curve of her lips exactly into his,like two pieces of a jigsaw244 puzzle; though he didn't hold her or touch her elsewhere she felt locked to him and lether head follow as he leaned back, drawing her forward onto his. chest. His hands came up to clasp her head, thebetter to work at that dizzying, amazingly responsive mouth, drain it. Sighing, he abandoned himself to feelingnothing else, at home at last with those silky baby's lips finally fitting his own. Her arm slid around his neck,quivering fingers sank into his hair, the palm of her other hand coming to rest on the smooth brown skin at thebase of his throat. This time he didn't hurry, though he had risen and hardened before giving her the second cupof champagne, just from looking at her. Not releasing her head, he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyes, thecurving bones of the orbits beneath her brows, came back to her cheeks because they were so satiny, came backto her mouth because its infantile shape drove him mad, had driven him mad since the day he first saw her.
And there was her throat, the little hollow at its base, the skin of her shoulder so delicate and cool and dry . . . .
Powerless to call a halt, almost beside himself with fear lest she should call a halt, he removed one hand from herhead and plucked at the long row of buttons down the back of her dress, slid it off her obedient arms, then thestraps of her loose satin slip. Face buried between her neck and shoulder, he passed the tips of his fingers downher bare back, feeling her startled little shivers, the sudden hard points to her breasts. He pushed his face lower ina blind, compulsive touch-search of one cold, cushioned surface, lips parted, pressing down, until they closedover taut246 ruched flesh. His tongue lingered for a dazed minute, then his hands clutched in agonized247 pleasure onher back and he sucked, nipped, kissed, sucked .... The old eternal impulse, his particular preference, and it neverfailed. It was so good, good, good, goooooood! He did not cry out, only shuddered248 for a wrenching250, drenchingmoment, and swallowed in the depths of his throat.
Like a satiated nursling, he let the nipple pop out of his mouth, formed a kiss of boundless252 love and gratitudeagainst the side of her breast, and lay utterly still except for the heaves of his breathing. He could feel her mouthin his hair, her hand down inside his shirt, and suddenly he seemed to recollect253 himself, opened his eyes. Brisklyhe sat up, pulled her slip straps245 up her arms, then her dress, and fastened all the buttons deftly254. "You'd bettermarry me, Meghann," he said, eyes soft and laughing. "I don't think your brothers would approve one little bit ofwhat we just did." "Yes, I think I'd better too," she agreed, lids lowered, a delicate flush in her cheeks.
"Let's tell them tomorrow morning.""Why not? The sooner the better.""Next Saturday I'll drive you into Gilly. We'll see Father Thomas-I suppose you'd like a church wedding-arrange for the banns, and buy an engagement ring.""Thank you, Luke."Well, that was that. She had committed herself, there could be no turning back. In a few weeks or however longit took to call banns, she would marry Luke O'neill. She would be . . . Mrs. Luke O'neill! How strange! Why didshe say yes? Because he told me I must, he said I was to do it. But why? To remove him from danger? To protecthimself, or me? Ralph de Bricassart, sometimes I think I hate you ....
The incident in the car had been startling and disturbing. Not a bit like that first time. So many beautiful,terrifying sensations. Oh, the touch of his hands! That electrifying256 tugging257 at her breast sending vast wideningrings clear through her! And he did it right at the moment her conscience had reared its head, told the mindlessthing she seemed to have become that he was taking off her clothes, that she must scream, slap him, run away.
No longer lulled258 and half senseless from champagne, from warmth, from the discovery that it was delicious to bekissed when it was done right, his first great gulping259 taking-in of her breast had transfixed her, stilled commonsense260, conscience and all thought of flight. Her shoulders came up off his chest, her hips seemed to subsideagainst him, her thighs and that un-named region at their top rammed261 by his squeezing hands against a ridge ofhis body hard as a rock, and she had just wanted to stay like that for the rest of her days, shaken to her soul andyawning empty, wanting . . . . Wanting what? She didn't know. In the moment at which he had put her awayfrom him she hadn't wanted to go, could even have flown at him like a savage262. But it had set the seal on herhardening resolve to marry Luke O'neill. Not to mention that she was convinced he had done to her the thingwhich made babies start.
No one was very surprised at the news, and no one dreamed of objecting. The only thing which did startle themwas Meggie's adamant263 refusal to write and tell Bishop Ralph, her almost hysterical264 rejection265 of Bob's idea thatthey invite Bishop Ralph to Drogheda and have a big house wedding. No, no, no! She had screamed it at them;Meggie who never raised her voice. Apparently she was miffed that he had never come back to see them,maintaining that her marriage was her own business, that if he didn't have the common decency to come toDrogheda for no reason, she was not going to furnish him with an obligation he could not refuse.
So Fee promised not to say a word in her letters; she seemed not to care one way or the other, nor did she seeminterested in Meggie's choice of a husband. Keeping the books of a station as large as Drogheda was a full-timejob. Fee's records would have served a historian with a perfect description of life on a sheep station, for theydidn't simply consist of figures and ledgers266. Every movement of every mob of sheep was rigidly268 described, thechanges of the seasons, the weather each day, even what Mrs. Smith served for dinner. The entry in the log bookfor Sunday, July 22, 1934, said: Sky clear, no cloud, temperature at dawn 34 degrees. No Mass today. Bob in,Jack out at Murrimbah with 2 stockmen, Hughie out at West Dam with 1 stockman, Beerbarrel droving 3-yearwethers from Budgin to Winnemurra. Temperature high at 3 o'clock, 85 degrees. Barometer269 steady, 30.6 inches.
Wind due west. Dinner menu corned beef, boiled potatoes, carrots and cabbage, then plum duff. Meghann Clearyis to marry Mr. Luke O'neill, stockman, on Saturday August 25 at the Holy Cross Church, Gillanbone. Entered 9o'clock evening, temperature 45 degrees, moon last quarter.
Luke bought Meggie a diamond engagement ring, modest but quite pretty, its twin quarter-carat stones set in apair of platinum270 hearts. The banns were called for noon on Saturday, August 25th, in the Holy Cross Church.
This would be followed by a family dinner at the Hotel Imperial, to which Mrs. Smith, Minnie and Cat werenaturally invited, though Jims and Patsy had been left in Sydney after Meggie said firmly that she couldn't seethe271 point in bringing them six hundred miles to witness a ceremony they didn't really understand. She hadreceived their letters of congratulations; Jims's long, rambling272 and childlike, Patsy's consisting of three words,"Lots of luck." They knew Luke, of course, having ridden the Drogheda paddocks with him during theirvacations.
Mrs. Smith was grieved at Meggie's insistence273 on as small an affair as possible; she had hoped to see the onlygirl married on Drogheda with flags flying and cymbals274 clashing, days of celebration. But Meggie was so againsta fuss she even refused to wear bridal regalia; she would be married in a day dress and an ordinary hat, whichcould double afterwards as her traveling outfit276.
"Darling, I've decided where to take you for our honeymoon277," Luke said, slipping into a chair opposite hers theSunday after they had made their wedding plans.
"Where?""North Queensland. While you were at the dressmaker I got talking to some chaps in the Imperial bar, and theywere telling me there's money to be made up in cane country, if a man's strong and not afraid of hard work." "ButLuke, you already have a good job here!" "A man doesn't feel right, battening on his in-laws. I want to get us themoney to buy a place out in Western Queensland, and I want it before I'm too old to work it. A man with noeducation finds it hard to get high-paying work in this Depression, but there's a shortage of men in NorthQueensland, and the money's at least ten times what I earn as a stockman on Drogheda." "Doing what?""Cutting sugar cane.""Cutting sugar cane? That's coolie labor278""No, you're wrong. Coolies aren't big enough to do it as well as the white cutters, and besides, you know as wellas I do that Australian law forbids the importation of black or yellow men to do slave labor or work for wageslower than a white man's, take the bread out of a white Australian's mouth. There's a shortage of cutters and themoney's terrific. Not too many blokes are big enough or strong enough to cut cane. But 1 am. It won't beat me!""Does this mean you're thinking of making our home in North Queensland, Luke?""Yes."She stared past his shoulder through the great bank of windows at Drogheda: the ghost gums, the HomePaddock, the stretch of trees beyond. Not to live onDrogheda! To be somewhere Bishop Ralph could never find her, to live without ever seeing him again, tocleave to this stranger sitting facing her so irrevocably there could be no going back .... The grey eyes rested onLuke's vivid, impatient face and grew more beautiful, but unmistakably sadder. He sensed it only; she had notears there, her lids didn't droop279, or the corners of her mouth. But he wasn't concerned with whatever sorrowsMeggie owned, for he had no intention of letting her become so important to him she caused him worry on herbehalf. Admittedly she was something of a bonus to a man who had tried to marry Dot MacPherson of Bingelly,but her physical desirability and tractable280 nature only increased Luke's guard over his own heart. No woman,even one as sweet and beautiful as Meggie Cleary, was ever going to gain sufficient power over him to tell himwhat to do.
So, remaining true to himself, he plunged281 straight into the main thing on his mind. There were times when guilewas necessary, but in this matter it wouldn't serve him as well as bluntness.
"Meghann, I'm an old-fashioned man," he said. She stared at him, puzzled. "Are you?" she asked, her toneimplying: Does it matter?
"Yes," he said. "I believe that when a man and woman marry, all the woman's property should become theman's. The way a dowry did in the old days. I know you've got a bit of money, and I'm telling you now that whenwe marry you're to sign it over to me. It's only fair you know what's in my mind While you're still single, andable to decide whether you want to do it."It had never occurred to Meggie that she would retain her money; she had simply assumed when she married itwould become Luke's, not hers. All save the most educated and sophisticated Australian women were reared tothink themselves more or less the chattels284 of their men, and this was especially true of Meggie. Daddy hadalways ruled Fee and his children, and since his death Fee had deferred286 to Bob as his successor. The man ownedthe money, the house, his wife and his children. Meggie had never questioned his right to do so.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know signing any-thing was necessary, Luke. I thought that what was mineautomatically became yours when we married.""It used to be like that, but those stupid drongos in Canberra stopped it when they gave women the vote. I wanteverything to be fair and square between us, Meghann, so I'm telling you now how things are going to be." Shelaughed, "It's all right, Luke, I don't mind."She took it like a good old-fashioned wife; Dot wouldn't have given in so readily. "How much have you got?"he asked.
"At the moment, fourteen thousand pounds. Every year I get two thousand more."He whistled. "Fourteen thousand pounds! Phew! That's a lot of money, Meghann. Better to have me look after itfor you. We can see the bank manager next week, and remind me to make sure everything coming in in thefuture gets put in my name, too. I'm not going to touch a penny of it, you know that. It's to buy our station lateron. For the next few years we're both going to work hard, and save every penny we earn. All right?" She nodded.
"Yes, Luke."A simple oversight287 on Luke's part nearly scotched289 the wedding in midplan. He was not a Catholic. When FatherWatty found out he threw up his hands in horror.
"Dear Lord, Luke, why didn't you tell me earlier? Indeed and to goodness, it will take all of our energies to haveyou converted and baptized before the wedding!"Luke stared at Father Watty, astonished. "Who said anything about converting, Father? I'm quite happy as I ambeing nothing, but if it worries you, write me down as a Calathumpian or a Holy Roller or whatever you like. Butwrite me down a Catholic you will not."In vain they pleaded; Luke refused to entertainidea of conversion291 for a moment. "I've got nothing against Catholicism or Eire, and I think the Catholics inUlster are hard done by. But I'm Orange, and I'm not a turncoat. If I was a Catholic and you wanted me toconvert to Methodism, I'd react the same. It's being a turncoat I object to, not being a Catholic. So you'll have todo without me in the flock, Father, and that's that.""Then you can't get married!""Why on earth not? If you don't want to marry us, I can't see why the Reverend up at the Church of Englandwill object, or Harry292 Gough the J.P." Fee smiled sourly, remembering her contretemps with Paddy and a priest;she had won that encounter.
"But, Luke, I have to be married in church!" Meggie protested fearfully. "If I'm not, I'll be living in sin!""Well, as far as I'm concerned, living in sin is a lot better than turning my coat inside out," said Luke, who wassometimes a curious contradiction; much as he wanted Meggie's money, a blind streak of stubbornness in himwouldn't let him back down.
"Oh, stop all this silliness!" said Fee, not to Luke but to the priest. "Do what Paddy and I did and have an end toargument! Father Thomas can marry you in the presbytery if he doesn't want to soil his church!" Everyone staredat her, amazed, but it did the trick; Father Watkin gave in and agreed to marry them in the presbytery, though herefused to bless the ring.
Partial Church sanction left Meggie feeling she was sinning, but not badly enough to go to Hell, and ancientAnnie the presbytery housekeeper293 did her best to make Father Watty's study as churchlike as possible, with greatvases of flowers and many brass294 candlesticks. But it was an uncomfortable ceremony, the very displeased295 priestmaking everyone feel he only went through with it to save himself the embarrassment296 of a secular297 weddingelsewhere. No Nuptial298 Mass, no blessings300.
However, it was done. Meggie was Mrs. Luke O'neill, on her way to North Queensland and a honeymoonsomewhat delayed by the time it would take getting there. Luke refused to spend that Saturday night at theImperial, for the branch-line train to Goondiwindi left only once a week, on Saturday night, to connect with theGoondiwindi-Brisbane mail train on Sunday. This would bring them to Bris on Monday in time to catch theCairns express.
The Goondiwindi train was crowded. They had no privacy and sat up all night because it carried no sleepingcars. Hour after hour it trundled its erratic301, grumpy way northeast, stopping interminably every time the enginedriver felt like brewing302 a billy of tea for himself, or to let a mob of sheep wander along the rails, or to have ayarn with a drover. "I wonder why they pronounce Goondiwindi Gundiwindi if they don't want to spell it thatway?" Meggie asked idly as they waited in the only place open in Goondiwindi on a Sunday, the awfulinstitutional-green station waiting room with its hard black wooden benches. Poor Meggie, she was nervous andill at ease.
"How do I know?" sighed Luke, who didn't feel like talking and was starving into the bargain. Since it wasSunday they couldn't even get a cup of tea; not until the Monday-morning breakfast stop on the Brisbane maildid they get an opportunity to fill their empty stomachs and slake303 their thirst. Then Brisbane, into South Brisstation, the trek304 across the city to Roma Street Station and the Cairns train. Here Meggie discovered Luke hadbooked them two second-class upright seats. "Luke, we're not short of money!" she said, tired and exasperated.
"If you forgot to go to the bank, I've got a hundred pounds Bob gave me here in my purse. Why didn't you get usa first-class sleeping compartment305?" He stared down at her, astounded306. "But it's only three nights and three daysto Dungloe! Why spend money on a sleeper307 when we're both young, healthy and strong? Sitting up on a train fora while won't kill you, Meghann! It's about time you realized you've married a plain old workingman, not abloody squatter!
So Meggie slumped220 in the window seat Luke seized for her and rested her trembling chin on her hand to lookout308 the window so Luke wouldn't notice her tears. He had spoken to her as one speaks to an irresponsible child,and she was beginning to wonder if indeed this was how he regarded her. Rebellion began to stir, but it was verysmall and her fierce pride forbade the indignity310 of quarreling. Instead she told herself she was this mart's wife,but it was such a new thing he wasn't used to it. Give him time. They would live together, she would cook hismeals, mend his clothes, look after him, have his babies, be a good wife to him. Look how much Daddy hadappreciated Mum, how much he had adored her. Give Luke time.
They were going to a town called Dungloe, only fifty miles short of Cairns, which was the far northern terminusof the line which ran all the way along the Queensland coast. Over a thousand miles of narrow three-foot-sixgaugerail, rocking and pitching back and forth, every seat in the compartment occupied, no chance to lie downor stretch out. Though it was far more densely312 settled countryside than Gilly, and far more colorful, she couldn'tsummon up interest in it.
Her head ached, she could keep no food down and the heat was much, much worse than anything Gilly had evercooked up. The lovely pink silk wedding dress was filthy313 from soot315 blowing in the windows, her skin wasclammy with a sweat which wouldn't evaporate, and what was more galling317 than any of her physical discomforts,she was close to hating Luke. Apparently not in the least tired or out of sorts because of the journey, he sat at hisease yarning319 with two men going to Cardwell. The only times he glanced in her direction he also got up, leanedacross her so carelessly she shrank, and flung a rolled-up newspaper out the window to some event-hungry gangof tattered320 men beside the line with steel hammers in their hands, calling: "Paip! Paip!""Fettlers looking after the rails," he explained as he sat down again the first time it happened.
And he seemed to assume she was quite as happy and comfortable as he was, that the coastal321 plain flying bywas fascinating her. While she sat staring at it and not seeing it, hating it before she had so much as set foot on it.
At Cardwell the two men got off, and Luke went to the fish-and-chip shop across the road from the station tobring back a newspaper-wrapped bundle. "They say Cardwell fish has to be tasted to be believed, Meghann love.
The best fish in the world. Here, try some. It's your first bit of genuine Bananaland food. I tell you, there's noplace like Queensland." Meggie glanced at the greasy322 pieces of batter-dipped fish, put her handkerchief to hermouth and bolted for the toilet. He was waiting in the corridor when she came out some time later, white andshaking. "What's the matter? Aren't you feeling well?" "I haven't felt well since we left Goondiwindi.""Good Lord! Why didn't you tell me?""Why didn't you notice?""You looked all right to me.""How far is it now?" she asked, giving up.
"Three to six hours, give or take a bit. They don't run to timetable up here too much. There's plenty of roomnow those blokes are gone; lie down and put your tootsies in my lap.""Oh, don't baby-talk me!" she snapped tartly323. "It would have been a lot better if they'd got off two days ago inBundaberg!" "Come on now, Meghann, be a good sport! Nearly there. Only Tully and Innisfail, then Dungloe."It was late afternoon when they stepped off the train,Meggie clinging desperately to Luke's arm, too proud to admit she wasn't able to walk properly. He asked thestationmaster for the name of a workingmen's hotel, picked up their cases and walked out onto the street, Meggiebehind him weaving drunkenly.
"Only to the end of the block on the other side of the street," he comforted. "The white two-storied joint324."Though their room was small and filled to overflowing325 with great pieces of Victorian furniture, it looked likeheaven to Meggie, collapsing326 on the edge of the double bed.
"Lie down for a while before dinner, love. I'm going out to find my landmarks," he said, sauntering from theroom looking as fresh and rested as he had on their wedding morning. That had been Saturday, and this was lateThursday afternoon; five days sitting up in crowded trains, choked by cigarette smoke and soot.
The bed was rocking monotonously327 in time to the clickety-click of steel wheels passing over rail joins, butMeggie turned her head into the pillow gratefully, and slept, and slept.
Someone had taken off her shoes and stockings, and covered her with a sheet; Meggie stirred, opened her eyesand looked around. Luke was sitting on the window ledge267 with one knee drawn up, smoking. Her movementmade him turn to look at her, and he smiled.
"A nice bride you are! Here I am looking forward to my honeymoon and my wife conks out for nearly twodays! I was a bit worried when I couldn't wake you up, but the publican says it hits women like that, the trip upin the train and the humidity. He said just let you sleep it off. How do you feel now?"She sat up stiffly, stretched her arms and yawned, "I feel much better, thank you. Oh, Luke! I know I'm youngand strong, but I'm a woman! I can't take the sort of physical punishment you can."He came to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing her arm in a rather charming gesture of contrition328. "I'm sorry,Meghann, I really am. I didn't think of your being a woman. Not used to having a wife with me, that's all. Areyou hungry, darling?""Starved. Do you realize it's almost a week since I've eaten?" "Then why don't you have a bath, put on a cleandress and come outside to look at Dungloe?"There was a Chinese cafe next door to the hotel, where Luke led Meggie for her first-ever taste of Orientalfood. She was so hungry anything would have tasted good, but this was superb. Nor did she care if it was madeof rats" tails and sharks' fins329 and fowls330' bowels331, as rumor332 had it in Gillanbone, which only possessed a cafe runby Greeks who served steak and chips. Luke had brown-bagged two quart bottles of beer from the hotel andinsisted she drink a glass in spite of her dislike for beer. "Go easy on the water at first," he advised. "Beer won'tgive you the trots333."Then he took her arm and walked her around Dungloe proudly, as if he owned it. But then, Luke was born aQueenslander. What a place Dungloe was! It had a look and a character far removed from western towns. In sizeit was probably the same as Gilly, but instead of rambling forever down one main street. Dungloe was built inordered square blocks, and all its shops and houses were painted white, not brown. Windows were verticalwooden transoms, presumably to catch the breeze, and wherever possible roofs had been dispensed334 with, like themovie theater, which had a screen, transomed walls and rows of ship's canvas desk chairs, but no roof at all. Allaround the edge of the town encroached a genuine jungle. Vines and creepers sprawled336 everywhere up posts,across roofs, along walls. Trees sprouted337 casually338 in the middle of the road, or had houses built around them, orperhaps had grown up through the houses. It was impossible to tell which had come first, trees or humanhabitations, for the overwhelming impression was one of uncontrolled, hectic339 growth of vegetation. Coconutpalms taller and straighter than the Drogheda ghost gums waved fronds341 against a deep, swimming blue sky;everywhere Meggie looked was a blaze of color. No brown-and-grey land, this. Every kind of tree seemed to bein flower-purple, orange, scarlet342, pink, blue, white. There were many Chinese in black silk trousers, tiny blackand-white shoes with white socks, white Mandarin-collared shirts, pigtails down their backs. Males and femaleslooked so alike Meggie found it difficult to tell which were which. Almost the entire commerce of the townseemed to be in the hands of Chinese; a large department store, far more opulent than anything Gilly possessed,bore a Chinese name: AH WONG’S, said the sign. All the houses were built on top of very high piles, like theold head stockman's residence on Drogheda. This was to achieve maximum air circulation, Luke explained, andkeep the termites343 from causing them to fall down a year after they were built. At the top of each pile was a tinplate with turned-down edges; termites couldn't bend their bodies in the middle and thus couldn't crawl over thetin parapet into the wood of the house itself. Of course they feasted on the piles, but when a pile rotted it wasremoved and replaced by a new one. Much easier and less expensive than putting up a new house. Most of thegardens seemed to be jungle, bamboo and palms, as if the inhabitants had given up trying to keep floral order.
The men and women shocked her. To go for dinner and a walk with Luke she had dressed as custom demandedin heeled shoes, silk stockings, satin slip, floating silk frock with belt and elbow sleeves. On her head was a bigstraw hat, on her hands were gloves. And what irritated her the most was an uncomfortable feeling from the waypeople stared that she was the one improperly345 dressed! The men were bare-footed, bare-legged and mostly bare-chested, wearing nothing but drab khaki shorts; the few who covered their chests did so with athletic346 singlets, notshirts. The women were worse. A few wore skimpy cotton dresses clearly minus anything in the way ofunderwear, no stockings, sloppy347 sandals. But the majority wore short shorts, went bare-footed and shielded theirbreasts with indecent little sleeveless vests. Dungloe was a civilized348 town, not a beach. But here were its nativewhite inhabitants strolling around in brazen349 undress; the Chinese were better clad. There were bicycleseverywhere, hundreds of them; a few cars, no horses at all. Yes, very different from Gilly. And it was hot, hot,hot. They passed a thermometer which incredibly said a mere ninety degrees; in Gilly at 115 degrees it seemedcooler than this. Meggie felt as if she moved through solid air which her body had to cut like wet, steamy butter,as if when she breathed her lungs filled with water.
"Luke, I can't bear it! Please, can we go back?" she gasped215 after less than a mile.
"If you want. You're feeling the humidity. It rarely gets below ninety percent, winter or summer, and thetemperature rarely gets below eighty-five or above ninety-five. There's not much of a seasonal350 variation, but insummer the monsoons352 send the humidity up to a hundred percent all the flaming time." "Summer rain, notwinter?""All year round. The monsoons always come, and when they're not blowing, the southeast trades are. Theycarry a lot of rain, too. Dungloe has an annual rainfall of between one and three hundred inches."Three hundred inches of rain a year! Poor Gilly ecstatic if it got a princely fifteen, while here as much as threehundred fell, two thousand miles from Gilly.
"Doesn't it cool off at night?" Meggie asked as they reached the hotel; hot nights in Gilly were bearablecompared to this steam bath.
"Not very much. You'll get used to it." He opened the door to their room and stood back for her to enter. "I'mgoing down to the bar for a beer, but I'll be back in half an hour. That ought to give you enough time." Her eyesflew to his face, startled. "Yes, Luke."Dungloe was seventeen degrees south of the equator, so night fell like a thunderclap; one minute it seemed thesun was scarcely setting, and the next minute pitch-black darkness spread itself thick and warm like treacle353.
When Luke came back Meggie had switched off the light and was lying in the bed with the sheet pulled up to herchin. Laughing, he reached out and tugged354 it off her, threw it on the floor.
"It's hot enough, love! We won't need a sheet."She could hear him walking about, see his faint shadow shedding its clothes. "I put your pajamas355 on thedressing table," she whispered. "Pajamas? In weather like this? I know in Gilly they'd have a stroke at thethought of a man not wearing pajamas, but this is Dungloe! Are you really wearing a nightie?""Yes.""Then take it off. The bloody thing will only be a nuisance anyway." Fumbling356, Meggie managed to wriggle357 outof the lawn nightgown Mrs. Smith had embroidered358 so lovingly for her wedding night, thankful that it was toodark for him to see her. He was right; it was much cooler lying bare and letting the breeze from the wide-opentransoms play over her thinly. But the thought of another hot body in the bed with her was depressing. Thesprings creaked; Meggie felt damp skin touch her arm and jumped. He turned on his side, pulled her into hisarms and kissed her. At first she lay passively, trying not to think of that wide-open mouth and its probing,indecent tongue, but then she began to struggle to be free, not wanting to be close in the heat, not wanting to bekissed, not wanting Luke. It wasn't a bit like that night in the Rolls coming back from Rudna Hunish. Shecouldn't seem to feel anything in him which thought of her, and some part of him was pushing insistently359 at herthighs while one hand, its nails squarely sharp, dug into her buttocks. Her fear blossomed into terror, she wasoverwhelmed in more than a physical way by his strength and determination, his lack of awareness360 of her.
Suddenly he let her go, sat up and seemed to fumble361 with himself, snapping and pulling at something. . "Betterbe safe," he gasped. "Lie on your back, it's time. No, not like that! Open-your legs, for God's sake! Don't youknow anything?" No, no, Luke, I don't! she wanted to cry. This is horrible, obscene; whatever it is you're doingto me can't possibly be permitted by the laws of Church or men! He actually lay down on top of her, lifted hiships and poked at her with one hand, the other so firmly in her hair she didn't dare move. Twitching362 and jumpingat the alien thing between her legs, she tried to do as he wanted, spread her legs wider, but he was much broaderthan she was, and her groin muscles went into crampy spasm363 from the weight of him and the un-accustomedposture. Even through the darkening mists of fright and exhaustion364 she could sense the gathering365 of some mightypower; as he entered her a long high scream left her lips.
"Shut up!" he groaned366, took his hand out of her hair and clamped it defensively over her mouth. "What do youwant to do, make everyone in this bloody pub think I'm murdering you? Lie still and it won't hurt any more thanit has to! Lie still, lie still!"She fought like one possessed to be rid of that ghastly, painful thing, but his weight pinned her down and hishand deadened her cries, the agony went on and on. Utterly dry because he hadn't roused her, the even driercondom scraped and rasped her tissues as he worked himself in and out, faster and faster, the breath beginning tohiss between his teeth; then some change stilled him, made him shudder249, swallow hard. The pain dulled to rawsoreness and he mercifully rolled off her to lie on his back, gasping368. "It'll be better for you the next time," hemanaged to say. "The first time always hurts the woman."Then why didn't you have the decency to tell me that beforehand? she wanted to snarl369, but she hadn't the energyto utter the words, she was too busy wanting to die. Not only because of the pain, but also from the discoverythat she had possessed no identity for him, only been an instrument. The second time hurt just as much, and thethird; exasperated, expecting her discomfort318 (for so he deemed it) to disappear magically after the first time andthus not understanding why she continued to fight and cry out, Luke grew angry, turned his back on her and wentto sleep. The tears slipped sideways from Meggie's eyes into her hair; she lay on her back wishing for death, orelse for her old life on Drogheda.
Was that what Father Ralph had meant years ago, when he had told her of the hidden passageway to do withhaving children? A nice way to find out what he meant. No wonder he had preferred not to explain it moreclearly himself. Yet Luke had liked the activity well enough to do it three times in quick succession. Obviously itdidn't hurt him. And for that she found herself hating him, hating it.
Exhausted120, so sore moving was agony, Meggie inched herself over onto her side with her back to Luke, andwept into the pillow. Sleep eluded372 her, though Luke slept so soundly her small timid movements never caused somuch as a change in the pattern of his breathing. He was an economical sleeper and a quiet one, he neithersnored nor flopped373 about, and she thought while waiting for the late dawn that if it had just been a matter oflying down together, she might have found him nice to be with. And the dawn came, as quickly and joylessly asdarkness had; it seemed strange not to hear roosters crowing, the other sounds of a rousing Drogheda with itssheep and horses and pigs and dogs.
Luke woke, and rolled over, she felt him kiss her on the shoulder and was so tired, so homesick that she forgotmodesty, didn't care about covering herself.
"Come on, Meghann, let's have a look at you," he commanded, his hand on her hip94. "Turn over, like a goodlittle girl."Nothing mattered this morning; Meggie turned over, wincing374, and lay looking up at him dully. "I don't likeMeghann," she said, the only form of protest she could manage. "I do wish you'd call me Meggie.""I don't like Meggie. But if you really dislike Meghann so much, I'll call you Meg." His gaze roved her bodydreamily. "What a nice shape you've got." He touched one breast, pink nipple flat and unaroused. "Especiallythese." Bunching the pillows into a heap, he lay back on them and smiled. "Come on, Meg, kiss me. It's your turnto make love to me, and maybe you'll like that better, eh?"I never want to kiss you again as long as I live, she thought, looking at the long, heavily muscled body, the matof dark hair on the chest diving down the belly375 in a thin line and then flaring into a bush, out of which grew thedeceptively small and innocent shoot which could cause so much pain. How hairy his legs were! Meggie hadgrown up with men who never removed a layer of their clothes in the presence of women, but open-necked shirtsshowed hairy chests in hot weather. They were all fair men, and not offensive to her; this dark man was alien,repulsive376. Ralph had a head of hair just as dark, but well she remembered that smooth, hairless brown chest. "Doas you're told, Meg! Kiss me."Leaning over, she kissed him; he cupped her breasts in his palms and made her go on kissing him, took one ofher hands and pushed it down to his groin. Startled, she took her unwilling377 mouth away from his to look at whatlay under her hand, changing and growing. "Oh, please, Luke, not again!" she cried. "Please, not again! Please,please!"The blue eyes scanned her speculatively378. "Hurts that much? All right, we'll do something different, but forGod's sake try to be enthusiastic!" Pulling her on top of him, he pushed her legs apart, lifted her shoulders andattached himself to her breast, as he had done in the car the night she committed herself to marrying him. Thereonly in body, Meggie endured it; at least he didn't put himself inside her, so it didn't hurt any more than simplymoving did. What strange creatures men were, to go at this as if it was the most pleasurable thing in the world. Itwas disgusting, a mockery of love. Had it not been for her hope that it would culminate379 in a baby, Meggie wouldhave refused flatly to have anything more to do with it.
"I've got you a job," Luke said over breakfast in the hotel dining room. "What? Before I've had a chance tomake our home nice, Luke? Before we've even got a home?""There's no point in our renting a house, Meg. I'm going to cut cane; it's all arranged. The best gang of cutters inQueensland is a gang of Swedes, Poles and Irish led by a bloke called Arne Swenson, and while you weresleeping off the journey I went to see him. He's a man short and he's willing to give me a trial. That means I'll beliving in barracks with them. We cut six days a week, sunrise to sunset. Not only that, but we move around upand down the coast, wherever the next job takes us. How much I earn depends on how much sugar I cut, and ifI'm good enough to cut with Arne's gang I'll be pulling in more than twenty quid a week. Twenty quid a week!
Can you imagine that?""Are you trying to tell me we won't be living together, Luke?" "We can't, Meg! The men won't have a womanin the barracks, and what's the use of your living alone in a house? You may as well work, too; it's all moneytoward our station.""But where will I live? What sort of work can I do? There's no stock to drove up here.""No, more's the pity. That's why I've got you a live-in job, Meg. You'll get free board, I won't have the expenseof keeping you. You're going to work as a housemaid on Himmelhoch, Ludwig Mueller's place. He's the biggestcane cocky in the district and his wife's an invalid380, can't manage the house on her own. I'll take you theretomorrow morning.""But when will I see you, Luke?""On Sundays. Luddie understands you're married; he doesn't mind if you disappear on Sundays""Well! You've certainly arranged things to your satisfaction, haven't you?" "I reckon. Oh, Meg, we're going tobe rich! We'll work hard and save every penny, and it won't be long before we can buy ourselves the best stationin Western Queensland. There's the fourteen thousand I've got in the Gilly bank, the two thousand a year morecoming in there, and the thirteen hundred or more a year we can earn between us. It won't be long, love, Ipromise. Grin and bear it for me, eh? Why be content with a rented house when the harder we work now meansthe sooner you'll be looking around your own kitchen?" "If it's what you want." She looked down at her purse.
"Luke, did you take my hundred pounds?""I put it in the bank. You can't carry money like that around, Meg.
"But you took every bit of it! I don't have a penny! What about spending money?""Why on earth do you want spending money? You'll be out at Himmelhoch in the morning, and you can't spendanything there. I'll take care of the hotel bill. It's time you realized you've married a workingman, Meg, thatyou're not the pampered381 squatter's daughter with money to burn. Mueller will pay your wages straight into mybank account, where they'll stay along with mine. I'm not spending the money on myself, Meg, you know that.
Neither of us is going to touch it, because it's for our future, our station.""Yes, I understand. You're very sensible, Luke. But what if I should have a baby?"For a moment he was tempted216 to tell her the truth, that there would be no baby until the station was a reality,but something in her face made him decide not to.
"Well, let's cross that bridge when we come to it, eh? I'd rather we didn't have one until we've got our station, solet's just hope we don't." No home, no money, no babies. No husband, for that matter. Meggie started to laugh.
Luke joined her, his teacup lifted in a toast. "Here's to French letters," he said.
In the morning they went out to Himmelhoch on the local bus, an old Ford with no glass in its windows androom for twelve people. Meggie was feeling better, for Luke had left her alone when she offered him a breast,and seemed to like it quite as well as that other awful thing. Much and all as she wanted babies, her courage hadfailed her. The first Sunday that she wasn't sore at all, she told herself, she would be willing to try again. Perhapsthere was a baby already on the way, and she needn't bother with it ever again unless she wanted more. Eyesbrighter, she looked around her with interest as the bus chugged out along the red dirt road. It was breath-takingcountry, so different from Gilly; she had to admit there was a grandeur382 and beauty here Gilly quite lacked. Easyto see there was never a shortage of water. The soil was the color of freshly spilled blood, brilliant scarlet, andthe cane in the fields not fallow was a perfect contrast to the soil: long bright green blades waving fifteen ortwenty feet above claret-colored stalks as thick as Luke's arm. Nowhere in the world, raved383 Luke, did cane growas tall or as rich in sugar; its yield was the highest known. That bright-red soil was over a hundred feet deep, andso stuffed with exactly the right nutrients384 the cane couldn't help but be perfect, especially considering the rainfall.
And nowhere else in the world was it cut by white men, at the white man's driving, money-hungry pace. "Youlook good on a soapbox, Luke," said Meggie ironically. He glanced sideways at her, suspiciously, but refrainedfrom comment because the bus had stopped on the side of the road to let them off. Himmelhoch was a largewhite house on top of a hill, surrounded by coconut340 palms, banana palms and beautiful smaller palms whoseleaves splayed outward in great fans like the tails of peacocks. A grove386 of bamboo forty feet high cut the houseoff from the worst of the northwest monsoonal387 winds; even with its hill elevation388 it was still mounted on top offifteen-foot piles. Luke carried her case; Meggie toiled389 up the red road beside him, gasping, still in correct shoesand stockings, her hat wilting390 around her face. The cane baron391 himself wasn't in, but his wife came onto theveranda as they mounted the steps, balancing herself between two sticks. She was smiling; looking at her dearkind face, Meggie felt better at once. "Come in, come in!" she said in a strong Australian accent. Expecting aGerman voice, Meggie was immeasurably cheered. Luke put her case down, shook hands when the lady took herright one off its stick, then pounded away down the steps in a hurry to catch the bus on its return journey. ArneSwenson was picking him up outside the pub at ten o'clock. "What's your first name, Mrs. O'neill?""Meggie.""Oh, that's nice. Mine is Anne, and I'd rather you called me Anne. It's been so lonely up here since my girl leftme a month ago, but it's not easy to get good house help, so I've been battling on my own. There's only Luddieand me to look after; we have no children. I hope you're going to like living with us, Meggie.""I'm sure I will, Mrs. Mueller-Anne.""Let me show you to your room. Can you manage the case? I'm not much good at carrying things, I'm afraid."The room was austerely393 furnished, like the rest of the house, but it looked out on the only side of the housewhere the view was unimpeded by some sort of windbreak, and shared the same stretch of veranda392 as the livingroom, which seemed very bare to Meggie with its cane furniture and lack of fabric394. "It's just too hot up here forvelvet or chintz," Anne explained. "We live with wicker, and as little on ourselves as decency allows. I'll have toeducate you, or you'll die. You're hopelessly overclothed."She herself was in a sleeveless, low-necked vest and a pair of short shorts, out of which her poor twisted legspoked doddering. In no time at all Meggie found herself similarly clad, loaned from Anne until Luke could bepersuaded to buy her new clothes. It was humiliating to have to explain that she was allowed no money, but atleast having to endure this attenuated396 her embarrassment over wearing so little.
"Well, you certainly decorate my shorts better than I do," said Anne. She went on with her breezy lecture.
"Luddie will bring you firewood; you're not to cut your own or drag it up the steps. I wish we had electricity likethe places closer in to Dunny, but the government is slower than a wet week. Maybe next year the line will reachas far as Himmelhoch, but until then it's the awful old fuel stove, I'm afraid. But you wait, Meggie!
The minute they give us power we'll have an electric stove, electric lights and a refrigerator.""I'm used to doing without them.""Yes, but where you come from the heat is dry. This is far, far worse. I'm just frightened that your health willsuffer. It often does in women who weren't born and brought up here; something to do with the blood. We're onthe same latitude397 south as Bombay and Rangoon are north, you know; not fit country for man or beast unlessborn to it." She smiled. "Oh, it's nice having you already! You and I are going to have a wonderful time! Do youlike reading? Luddie and I have a passion for it."Meggie's face lit up. "Oh, yes!""Splendid! You'll be too content to miss that big handsome husband of yours."Meggie didn't answer. Miss Luke? Was he handsome? She thought that if she never saw him again she wouldbe perfectly398 happy. Except that he was her husband, that the law said she had to make her life with him. She hadgone into it with her eyes open; she had no one to blame save herself. And perhaps as the money came in and thestation in Western Queensland became a reality, there would be time for Luke and her to live together, settledown, know each other, get along.
He wasn't a bad man, or unlikable; it was just that he had been alone so long he didn't know how to sharehimself with someone else. And he was a simple man, ruthlessly single of purpose, untormented. What hedesired was a concrete thing, even if a dream; it was a positive reward which would surely come as the result ofunremitting work, grinding sacrifice. For that one had to respect him. Not for a moment did she think he woulduse the money to give himself luxuries; he had meant what he said; It would stay in the bank. The trouble was hedidn't have the time or the inclination122 to understand a woman, he didn't seem to know a woman was different,needed things he didn't need, as he needed things she didn't. Well, it could be worse. He might have put her towork for someone far colder and less considerate than Anne Mueller. On top of this hill she wouldn't come toany harm. But oh, it was so far from Drogheda!
That last thought came again after they finished touring the house, and stood together on the living roomveranda looking out across Himmelhoch. The great fields of cane (one couldn't call them paddocks, since theywere small enough to encompass400 with the eyes) plumed401 lushly in the wind, a restlessly sparkling and polished-by-rain green, falling away in a long slope to the jungle-clad banks of a great river, wider by far than theBarwon. Beyond the river the cane lands rose again, squares of poisonous green interspersed402 with bloody fallowfields, until at the foot of a vast mountain the cultivation403 stopped, and the jungle took over. Behind the cone404 ofmountain, farther away, other peaks reared and died purple into the distance. The sky was a richer, denser405 bluethan Gilly skies, puffed406 with white billows of thick cloud, and the color of the whole was vivid, intense.
"That's Mount Bartle Frere," said Anne, pointing to the isolated407 peak. "Six thousand feet straight up out of asea-level plain. They say it's solid tin, but there's no hope of mining it for the jungle."On the heavy, idle wind came a strong, sickening stench Meggie hadn't stopped trying to get out of her nostrilssince stepping off the train. Like decay, only not like decay; unbearably408 sweet, all-pervasive, a tangible409 presencewhich never seemed to diminish no matter how hard the breeze blew. "What you can smell is molasses," saidAnne as she noticed Meggie's flaring nose; she lit a tailor-made Ardath cigarette.
"It's disgusting.""I know. That's why I smoke. But to a certain extent you get used to it, though unlike most smells it never quitedisappears. Day in and day out, the molasses is always there." "What are the buildings on the river with the blackchimney?" "That's the mill. It processes the cane into raw sugar. What's left over, the dry remnants of the caneminus its sugar content, is called bagasse. Both raw sugar and bagasse are sent south to Sydney for furtherrefining. Out of raw sugar they get molasses, treacle, golden syrup410, brown sugar, white sugar and liquid glucose411.
The bagasse is made into fibrous building board like Masonite. Nothing is wasted, absolutely nothing. That'swhy even in this Depression growing cane is still a very profitable business."Arne Swenson was six feet two inches tall, exactly Luke's height, and just as handsome. His bare body wascoated a dark golden brown by perpetual exposure to the sun, his thatch412 of bright yellow hair curled all over hishead; the fine Swedish features were so like Luke's in type that it was easy to see how much Norse blood hadpercolated into the veins413 of the Scots and Irish.
Luke had abandoned his moleskins and white shirt in favor of shorts. With Arne he climbed into an ancient,wheezing414 model-T utility truck and headed for where the gang was cutting out by Goondi. The secondhandbicycle he had bought lay in the utility's tray along with his case, and he was dying to begin work.
The other men had been cutting since dawn and didn't lift their heads when Arne appeared from the direction ofthe barracks, Luke in tow. The cutting uniform consisted of shorts, boots with thick woolen415 socks, and canvashats. Eyes narrowing, Luke stared at the toiling416 men, who were a peculiar417 sight. Coal-black dirt covered themfrom head to foot, with sweat making bright pink streaks418 down chests, arms, backs.
"Soot and muck from the cane," Arne explained. "We have to burn it before we can cut it."He bent down to pick up two instruments, gave one to Luke and kept one. "This is a cane knife," he said,hefting his. "With this you cut the cane. Very easy if you know how." He grinned, proceeding136 to demonstrate andmaking it look far easier than it probably was.
Luke looked at the deadly thing he gripped, which was not at all like a West Indian machete. It widened into alarge triangle instead of tapering419 to a point, and had a wicked hook like a rooster's spur at one of the two bladeends.
"A machete is too small for North Queensland cane," Arne said, finished his demonstration420. "This is the righttoy, you'll find. Keep it sharp, and good luck."Off he went to his own section, leaving Luke standing371 undecided for a moment. Then, shrugging, he startedwork. Within minutes he understood why they left it to slaves and to races not sophisticated enough to knowthere were easier ways to make a living; like shearing, he thought with wry283 humor. Bend, hack421, straighten, clutchthe unwieldy top-heavy bunch securely, slide its length through the hands, whack422 off the leaves, drop it in a tidyheap, go to the next cluster of-stems, bend, hack, straighten, hack, add it to the heap ....
The cane was alive with vermin: rats, bandicoots, cockroaches423, toads424, spiders, snakes, wasps425, flies and bees.
Everything that could bite viciously or sting unbearably was well represented. For that reason the cutters burnedthe cane first, preferring the filth314 of working charred426 crops to the depredations427 of green, living cane. Even so theywere stung, bitten and cut. If it hadn't been for the boots Luke's feet would have been worse off than his hands,but no cutter ever wore gloves. They slowed a man down, and time was money in this game. Besides, gloveswere sissy. At sundown Arne called a halt, and came to see how Luke had fared.
"Hey, mate not bad!" he shouted, thumping428 Luke on the back. "Five tons; not bad for a first day!"It was not a long walk back to the barracks, but tropical night fell so suddenly it was dark as they arrived.
Before going inside they collected naked in a communal429 shower, then, towels around their waists, they troopedinto the barracks, where whichever cutter on cook duty that week had mountains of whatever was his specialtyready on the table. Today it was steak and potatoes, damper bread and jam roly-poly; the men fell on it andwolfed every last particle down, ravenous430.
Two rows of iron pallets faced each other down either side of a long room made of corrugated431 iron; sighing andcursing the cane with an originality432 a bullocky might have envied, the men flopped naked on top of unbleachedsheets, drew their mosquito nets down from the rings and within moments were asleep, vague shapes undergauzy tents.
Arne detained Luke. "Let me see your hands." He inspected the bleeding cuts, the blisters433, the stings. "Bluebagthem first, then use this ointment51. And if you take my advice you'll rub coconut oil into them every night of yourlife. You've got big hands, so if your back can take it you'll make a good cutter. In a week you'll harden, youwon't be so sore."Every muscle in Luke's splendid body had its own separate ache; he was conscious. of nothing but a vast,crucifying pain. Hands wrapped and anointed, he stretched himself on his allotted434 bed, pulled down his mosquitonet and closed his eyes on a world of little suffocating435 holes. Had he dreamed what he was in for he would neverhave wasted his essence on Meggie; she had become a withered19, unwanted and unwelcome idea in the back ofhis mind, shelved. He knew he would never have anything for her while he cut the cane. It took him thepredicted week to harden, and attain436 the eight-ton-a-day minimum Arne demanded of his gang members. Thenhe settled down to becoming better than Arne. He wanted the biggest share of the money, maybe a partnership437.
But most of all he wanted to see that same look that came into every face for Arne directed at himself; Arne wassomething of a god, for he was the best cutter in Queensland, and that probably meant he was the best meatcutter in the world. When they went into a town on Saturday night the local men couldn't buy Arne enough rumsand beers, and the local women whirred about him like hummingbirds438. There were many similarities betweenArne and Luke. They were both vain and enjoyed evoking439 intense female admiration, but admiration was as faras it went. They had nothing to give to women; they gave it all to the cane.
For Luke the work had a beauty and a pain he seemed to have been waiting all his life to feel. To bend andstraighten and bend in that ritual rhythm was to participate in some mystery beyond the scope of ordinary men.
For, as watching Arne taught him, to do this superbly was to be a top member of the most elite440 band ofworkingmen in the world; he could bear himself with pride no matter where he was, knowing that almost everyman he met would never last a day in a cane field. The King of England was no better than he, and the King ofEngland would admire him if he knew him. He could look with pity and contempt on doctors, lawyers, penpushers,cockies. To cut sugar the money-hungry white man's way-that was the greatest achievement. He wouldsit on the edge of his cot feeling the ribbed, corded muscles of his arm swell441, look at the horny, scarred palms ofhis hands, the tanned length of his beautifully structured legs, and smile. A man who could do this and not onlysurvive but like it was a man. He wondered if the King of England could say as much.
It was four weeks before Meggie saw Luke. Each Sunday she powdered her sticky nose, put on a pretty silkdress-though she gave up the purgatory442 of slips and stockings-and waited for her husband, who never came.
Anne and Luddie Mueller said nothing, just watched her animation443 fade as each Sunday darkened dramatically,like a curtain falling on a brilliantly lit, empty stage. It wasn't that she wanted him, precisely444; it was just that hewas hers, or she was his, or however best it might be described. To imagine that he didn't even think of her whileshe passed her days and weeks waiting with him in her thoughts all the time, to imagine that was to be filled withrage, frustration137, bitterness, humiliation116, sorrow. Much as she had loathed446 those two nights at the Dunny pub, atleast then she had come first with him; now she found herself actually wishing she had bitten off her tonguesooner than cried out in pain. That was it, of course. Her suffering had made him tire of her, ruined his ownpleasure. From anger at him, at his indifference447 to her pain, she passed to remorse448, and ended in blaming it all onherself. The fourth Sunday she didn't bother dressing up, just padded around the kitchen bare-footed in shorts andvest, getting a hot breakfast for Luddie and Anne, who enjoyed this incongruity449 once a week. At the sound offootsteps on the back stairs she turned from bacon sizzling in the pan; for a moment she simply stared at the big,hairy fellow in the doorway450. Luke? Was this Luke? He seemed made of rock, inhuman451. But the effigy452 crossedthe kitchen, gave her a smacking453 kiss and sat down at the table. She broke eggs into the pan and put on morebacon.
Anne Mueller came in, smiled civilly and inwardly fumed455 at him. Wretched man, what was he about, to leavehis new wife neglected for so long? "I'm glad to see you've remembered you have a wife," she said. "Come outonto the veranda, sit with Luddie and me and we'll all have breakfast. Luke, help Meggie carry the bacon andeggs. I can manage the toast rack in my teeth."Ludwig Mueller was Australian-born, but his German heritage was clearly on him: the beefy red complexionnot able to cope with beer and sun combined, the square grey head, the pale-blue Baltic eyes. He and his wifeliked Meggie very much, and counted themselves fortunate to have acquired her services. Especially was Luddiegrateful, seeing how much happier Anne was since that goldy head had been glowing around the house.
"How's the cutting, Luke?" he asked, shoveling eggs and bacon onto his plate.
"If I said I liked it, would you believe me?" Luke laughed, heaping his own plate.
Luddie's shrewd eyes rested on the handsome face, and he nodded. "Oh, yes. You've got the right sort oftemperament and the right sort of body, I think. It makes you feel better than other men, superior to them."Caught in his heritage of cane fields, far from academia and with no chance of exchanging one for the other,Luddie was an ardent456 student of human nature; he read great fat tomes bound in Morocco leather with names ontheir spines458 like Freud and Jung, Huxley and Russell.
"I was beginning to think you were never going to come and see Meggie," Anne said, spreading ghee on hertoast with a brush; it was the only way they could have butter up here, but it was better than none. "Well, Arneand I decided to work on Sundays for a while. Tomorrow we're off to Ingham.""Which means poor Meggie won't see you too often.""Meg understands. It won't be for more than a couple of years, and we do have the summer layoff459. Arne says hecan get me work at the CSR in Sydney then, and I might take Meg with me.""Why do you have to work so hard, Luke?" asked Anne. "Got to get the money together for my property outwest, around Kynuna. Didn't Meg mention it?""I'm afraid our Meggie's not much good at personal talk. You tell us, Luke."The three listeners sat watching the play of expression on the tanned, strong face, the glitter of those very blueeyes; since he had come before breakfast Meggie hadn't uttered a word to anyone. On and on he talked about themarvelous country Back of Beyond; the grass, the big grey brolga birds mincing460 delicately in the dust ofKynuna's only road, the thousands upon thousands of flying kangaroos, the hot dry sun. "And one day soon a bigchunk of all that is going to be mine. Meg's put a bit of money toward it, and at the pace we're working it won'ttake more than four or five years. Sooner, if I was content to have a poorer place, but knowing what I can earncutting sugar, I'm tempted to cut a bit longer and get a really decent bit of land." He leaned forward, big scarredhands around his teacup. "Do you know I nearly passed Ame's tally the other day? Eleven tons I cut in one day!"Luddie's whistle was genuinely admiring, and they embarked461 upon a discussion of tallies462. Meggie sipped463 herstrong dark milkless tea. Oh, Luke! First it had been a couple of years, now it was four or five, and who knewhow long it would be the next time he mentioned a period of years? Luke loved it, no one could mistake that. Sowould he give it up when the time came? Would he? For that matter, did she want to wait around to find out?
The Muellers were very kind and she was far from overworked, but if she had to live without a husband,Drogheda was the best place. In the month of her stay at Himmelhoch she hadn't felt really well for one singleday; she didn't want to eat, she suffered bouts464 of painful diarrhea, she seemed dogged by lethargy and couldn'tshake it off. Not used to feeling anything but tiptop well, the vague malaise frightened her.
After breakfast Luke helped her wash the dishes, then took her for a walk down to the nearest cane field, talkingall the time about the sugar and what it was like to cut it, what a beaut life it was out in the open air, what a beautlot of blokes they were in Ame's gang, how different it was from shearing, and how much better.
They turned and walked up the hill again; Luke led her into the exquisitely465 cool cavern467 under the house,between the piles. Anne had made a conservatory468 out of it, stood pieces of terra-cotta pipe of differing lengthsand girths upright, then filled them with soil and planted trailing, dangling469 things in them; orchids470 of every kindand color, ferns, exotic creepers and bushes. The ground was soft and redolent of wood chips; great wire basketshung from the joists overhead, full of ferns or orchids or tuberoses; staghorns in bark nests grew on the piles;magnificent begonias in dozens of brilliant colors had been planted around the bases of the pipes. It wasMeggie's favorite retreat, the one thing of Himmelhoch's she preferred to anything of Drogheda's. For Droghedacould never hope to grow so much on one small spot; there just wasn't enough moisture in the air.
"Isn't this lovely, Luke? Do you think perhaps after a couple of years up here we might be able to rent a housefor me to live in? I'm dying to try something like this for myself.""What on earth do you want to live alone in a house for? This isn't Gilly, Meg; it's the sort of place where awoman on her own isn't safe. You're much better off here, believe me. Aren't you happy here?" "I'm as happy asone can be in someone else's home.""Look, Meg, you've just got to be content with what you have now until we move out west. We can't spendmoney renting houses and having you live a life of leisure and still save. Do you hear me?""Yes, Luke."He was so upset he didn't do what he had intended to do when he led her under the house, namely kiss her.
Instead he gave her a casual smack454 on the bottom which hurt a little too much to be casual, and set off down theroad to the spot where he had left his bike propped471 against a tree. He had pedaled twenty miles to see her ratherthan spend money on a rail motor and a bus, which meant he had to pedal twenty miles back.
"The poor little soul!" said Anne to Luddie. "I could kill him!"January came and went, the slackest month of the year for cane cutters, but there was no sign of Luke. He hadmurmured about taking Meggie to Sydney, but instead he went to Sydney with Arne and without her. Arne was abachelor and had an aunt with a house in Rozelle, within walking distance (no tram fares; save money) of theCSR, the Colonial Sugar Refineries472. Within those gargantuan473 concrete walls like a fortress474 on a hill, a cutter withconnections could get work. Luke and Arne kept in trim stacking sugar bags, and swimming or surfing in theirspare time.
Left in Dungloe with the Muellers, Meggie sweated her way through The Wet, as the monsoon351 season wascalled. The Dry lasted from March to November and in this part of the continent wasn't exactly dry, butcompared to The Wet it was heavenly. During The Wet the skies just opened and vomited475 water, not all day butin fits and starts; in between deluges476 the land steamed, great clouds of white vapor316 rising from the cane, the soil,the jungle, the mountains.
And as time went on Meggie longed for home more and more. North Queensland, she knew now, could neverbecome home to her. For one thing, the climate didn't suit her, perhaps because she had spent most of her life indryness. And, she hated the loneliness, the unfriendliness, the feeling of remorseless lethargy. She hated theprolific insect and reptile479 life which made each night an ordeal480 of giant toads, tarantulas, cockroaches, rats;nothing seemed to keep them out of the house, and she was terrified of them. They were so huge, so aggressive,so hungry. Most of all she hated the dunny, which was not only the local patois481 for toilet but the diminutive482 forDungloe, much to the delight of the local populace, who punned on it perpetually. But a Dunny dunny left one'sstomach churning in revolt, for in this seething483 climate holes in the ground were out of the question because oftyphoid and other enteric fevers. Instead of being a hole in the ground, a Dunny dunny was a tarred tin can whichstank, and as it filled came alive with noisome484 maggots and worms. Once a week the can was removed andreplaced with an empty one, but once a week wasn't soon enough.
Meggie's whole spirit rebelled against the casual local acceptance of such things as normal; a lifetime in NorthQueensland couldn't reconcile her to them. Yet dismally485 she reflected that it probably would be a whole lifetime,or at least until Luke was too old to cut the sugar. Much as she longed for and dreamed of Drogheda, she was fartoo proud to admit to her family that her husband neglected her; sooner than admit that, she'd take the lifetimesentence, she told herself fiercely.
Months went by, then a year, and time crept toward the second year's end. Only the constant kindness of theMuellers kept Meggie in residence at Himmelhoch, trying to resolve her dilemma486. Had she written to ask Bobfor the fare home he would have sent it by return telegram, but poor Meggie couldn't face telling her family thatLuke kept her without a penny in her purse. The day she did tell them was the day she would leave Luke, neverto go back to him, and she hadn't made up her mind yet to take such a step. Everything in her upbringingconspired to prevent her leaving Luke: the sacredness of her marriage vows487, the hope she might have a baby oneday, the position Luke occupied as husband and master of her destiny. Then there were the things which sprangfrom her own nature: that stubborn, stiff-necked pride, and the niggling conviction that the situation was as muchher fault as Luke's. If there wasn't something wrong with her, Luke might have behaved far differently. She hadseen him six times in the eighteen months of her exile, and often thought, quite unaware such a thing ashomosexuality existed, that by rights Luke should have married Arne, because he certainly lived with Arne andmuch preferred his company. They had gone into full partnership and drifted up and down the thousand-milecoast following the sugar harvest, living, it seemed, only to work. When Luke did come to see her he didn'tattempt any kind of intimacy, just sat around for an hour or two yarning to Luddie and Anne, took his wife for awalk, gave her a friendly kiss, and was off again. The three of them, Luddie, Anne and Meggie, spent all theirspare time reading. Himmelhoch had a library far larger than Drogheda's few shelves, more erudite and moresalacious by far, and Meggie learned a great deal while she read.
One Sunday in June of 1936 Luke and Arne turned up together, very pleased with themselves. They had come,they said, to give Meggie a real treat, for they were taking her to a ceilidh.
Unlike the general tendency of ethnic488 groups in Australia to scatter489 and become purely490 Australian, the variousnationalities in the North Queensland peninsula tended to preserve their traditions fiercely: the Chinese, theItalians, the Germans and the Scots-Irish, these four groups making up the bulk of the population. And when theScots threw a ceilidh every Scot for miles attended.
To Meggie's astonishment491, Luke and Arne were wearing kilts, looking, she thought when she got her breathback, absolutely magnificent. Nothing is more masculine on a masculine man than a kilt, for it swings with along clean stride in a flurry of pleats behind and stays perfectly still in front, the sporran like a loin guard, andbelow the mid290-knee hem3 strong fine legs in diamond checkered492 hose, buckled493 shoes. It was far too hot to wearthe plaid and the jacket; they had contented494 themselves with white shirts open halfway495 down their chests, sleevesrolled up above their elbows.
"What's a ceilidh anyway?" she asked as they set off. "It's Gaelic for a gathering, a shindig.""Why on earth are you wearing kilts?""We won't be let in unless we are, and we're well known at all the ceilidhs between Bris and Cairns.""Are you now? I imagine you must indeed go to quite a few, otherwise I can't see Luke outlaying496 money for akilt. Isn't that so, Arne?" "A man's got to have some relaxation," said Luke, a little defensively. The ceilidh wasbeing held in a barnlike shack497 falling to rack and ruin down in the midst of the mangrove498 swamps festering aboutthe mouth of the Dungloe River. Oh, what a country this was for smells! Meggie thought in despair, her nosetwitching to yet another indescribably disgusting aroma499. Molasses, mildew500, Bunnies, and now mangroves. Allthe rotting effluvia of the seashore rolled into one smell.
Sure enough, every man arriving at the shed wore a kilt; as they went in and she looked around, Meggieunderstood how drab a peahen must feel when dazzled by the vivid gorgeousness of her mate. The women wereovershadowed into near nonexistence, an impression which the later stages of the evening only sharpened.
Two pipers in the complex, light-blue-based Anderson tartan were standing on a rickety dais at one end of thehall, piping a cheerful reel in perfect synchrony, sandy hair on end, sweat running down ruddy faces. A fewcouples were dancing, but most of the noisy activity seemed to be centered around a group of men who werepassing out glasses of what was surely Scotch288 whiskey. Meggie found herself thrust into a corner with severalother women, and was content to stay there watching, fascinated. Not one woman wore a clan101 tartan, for indeedno Scotswoman wears the kilt, only the plaid, and it was too hot to drape a great heavy piece of material aroundthe shoulders. So the women wore their dowdy502 North Queensland cotton dresses, which stuttered into limpsilence beside the men's kilts. There was the blazing red and white of Clan Menzies, the cheery black and yellowof Clan MacLeod of Lewis, the windowpane blue and red checks of Clan Skene, the vivid complexity of ClanOgilvy, the lovely red, grey and black of Clan MacPherson. Luke in Clan Macationeil, Arne in the Sassenach'sJacobean tartan. Beautiful!
Luke and Arne were obviously well known and well liked. How often did they come without her, then? Andwhat had possessed them to bring her tonight? She sighed, leaned against the wall. The other women wereeyeing her curiously, especially the rings on her wedding finger; Luke and Arne were the objects of muchfeminine admiration, herself the object of much feminine envy. I wonder what they'd say if I told them the bigdark one, who is my husband, has seen me precisely twice in the last eight months, and never sees me with theidea of getting into a bed? Look at the pair of them, the conceited Highland503 fops! And neither of them Scottish atall, just playacting because they know they look sensational504 in kilts and they like to be the center of attention.
You magnificent pair of frauds! You're too much in love with yourselves to want or need love from anyone else.
At midnight the women were relegated505 to standing around the walls; the pipers skirled into "Caber Feidh" andthe serious dancing began. For the rest of her life, whenever she heard the sound of a piper Meggie was back inthat shed. Even the swirl133 of a kilt could do it; there was that dreamlike merging506 of sound and sight, of life andbrilliant vitality, which means a memory so piercing, so spellbinding, that it will never be lost. Down went thecrossed swords on the floor; two men in Clan MacDonald of Sleat kilts raised their arms above their heads,hands flicked507 over like ballet dancers, and very gravely, as if at the end the swords would be plunged into theirbreasts, began to pick their delicate way through, between, among the blades.
A high shrill508 scream ripped above the airy wavering of the pipes, the tune195 became "All the Blue Bonnets510 overthe Border," the sabers were scooped511 up, and every man in the room swung into the dance, arms linking anddissolving, kilts flaring. Reels, strathspeys, flings; they danced them all, feet on the board floor sending echoesamong the rafters, buckles512 on shoes flashing, and every time the pattern changed someone would throw back hishead, emit that shrill, ululating whoop513, set off trains of cries from other exuberant514 throats. While the womenwatched, forgotten.
It was close to four in the morning when the ceilidh broke up; outside was not the astringent515 crispness of BlairAtholl or Skye but the torpor516 of a tropical night, a great heavy moon dragging itself along the spangled wastes ofthe heavens, and over it all the stinking517 miasma518 of mangroves. Yet as Arne drove them off in the wheezing oldFord, the last thing Meggie heard was the drifting dwindling196 lament519 "Flowers o" the Forest," bidding the revelershome. Home. Where was home?
"Well, did you enjoy that?" asked Luke.
"I would have enjoyed it more had I danced more," she answered. "What, at a ceilidh? Break it down, Meg!
Only the men are supposed to dance, so we're actually pretty good to you women, letting you dance at all." "Itseems to me only men do a lot of things, and especially if they're good things, enjoyable things.""Well, excuse me!" said Luke stiffly. "Here was I thinking you might like a bit of a change, which was why Ibrought you. I didn't have to, you know! And if you're not grateful I won't bring you again.""You probably don't have any intention of doing so, anyway," said Meggie. "It isn't good to admit me into yourlife. I learned a lot these past few hours, but I don't think it's what you intended to teach me. It's getting harder tofool me, Luke. In fact, I'm fed up with you, with the life I'm leading, with everything!""Ssssh!" he hissed520, scandalized. "We're not alone!" "Then come alone!" she snapped. "When do I ever get thechance to see you alone for more than a few minutes?"Arne pulled up at the bottom of the Himmelhoch hill, grinning at Luke sympathetically. "Go on, mate," he said.
"Walk her up; I'll wait here for you. No hurry.""I mean it, Luke!" Meggie said as soon as they were out of Arne's hearing. "The worm's turning, do you hearme? I know I promised to obey you, but you promised to love and cherish me, so we're both liars521! I want to gohome to Drogheda!"He thought of her two thousand pounds a year and of its ceasing to be put in his name.
"Oh, Meg!" he said helplessly. "Look, sweetheart, it won't be forever, I promise! And this summer I'm going totake you to Sydney with me, word of an O'neill! Arne's aunt has a flat coming vacant in her house, and we canlive there for three months, have a wonderful time! Bear with me another year or so in the cane, then we'll buyour property and settle down, eh?" The moon lit up his face; he looked sincere, upset, anxious, contrite522. And verylike Ralph de Bricassart.
Meggie relented, because she still wanted his babies. "All right," she said. "Another year. But I'm holding youto that promise of Sydney, Luke, so remember!"Once a month Meggie wrote a dutiful letter to Fee, Bob and the boys, full of descriptions of North Queensland,carefully humorous, never hinting of any differences between her and Luke. That pride again. As far asDrogheda knew, the Muellers were friends of Luke's with whom she boarded because Luke traveled so much.
Her genuine affection for the couple came through in every word she wrote about them, so no one on Droghedaworried. Except that it grieved them she never came home. Yet how could she tell them that she didn't have themoney to visit without also telling them how miserable523 her marriage to Luke O'neill had become?
Occasionally she would nerve herself to insert a casual question about Bishop Ralph, and even less often Bobwould remember to pass on the little he learned from Fee about the Bishop. Then came a letter full of him. "Hearrived out of the blue one day, Meggie," Bob's letter said, "looking a bit upset and down in the mouth. I mustsay he was floored not to find you here. He was spitting mad because we hadn't told him about you and Luke, butwhen Mum said you'd got a bee in your bonnet509 about it and didn't want us to tell him, he shut up and never saidanother word. But I thought he missed you more than he would any of the rest of us, and I suppose that's quitenatural because you spent more time with him than the rest of us, and I think he always thought of you as hislittle sister. He wandered around as if he couldn't believe you wouldn't pop up all of a sudden, poor chap. Wedidn't have any pictures to show him either, and I never thought until he asked to see them that it was funny younever had any wedding pictures taken. He asked if you had any kids, and I said I didn't think so. You don't, doyou, Meggie? How long is it now since you were married? Getting on for two years? Must be, because this isJuly. Time flies, eh? I hope you have some kids soon, because I think the Bishop would be pleased to hear of it. Ioffered to give him your address, but he said no. Said it wouldn't be any use because he was going to Athens,Greece, for a while with the archbishop he works for. Some Dago name four yards long, I never can remember it.
Can you imagine, Meggie, they're flying? "Struth! Anyway, once he found out you weren't on Drogheda to goround with him he didn't stay long, just took a ride or two, said Mass for us every day, and went six days after hegot here."Meggie laid the letter down. He knew, he knew! At last he knew. What had he thought, how much had itgrieved him? And why had he pushed her to do this? It hadn't made things any better. She didn't love Luke, shenever would love Luke. He was nothing more than a substitute, a man who would give her children similar intype to those she might have had with Ralph de Bricassart. Oh, God, what a mess!
Archbishop di Contini-Verchese preferred to stay in a secular hotel than avail himself of the offered quarters inan Athens Orthodox palace. His mission was a very delicate one, of some moment; there were matters longoverdue for discussion with the chief prelates of theGreek Orthodox Church, the Vatican having a fondness for Greek and Russian Orthodoxy that it couldn't havefor Protestantism. After all, the Orthodoxies were schisms526, not heresies527; their bishops528, like Rome's, extendedback to Saint Peter in an unbroken line.
The Archbishop knew his appointment for this mission was a diplomatic testing, a stepping stone to greaterthings in Rome. Again his gift for languages had been a boon530, for it was his fluent Greek which had tipped thebalance in his favor. They had sent for him all the way to Australia, flown him out.
And it was unthinkable that he go without Bishop de Bricassart, for he had grown to rely upon that amazingman more and more with the passing of the years. A Mazarin, truly a Mazarin; His Grace admired CardinalMazarin far more than he did Cardinal531 Richelieu, so the comparison was high praise. Ralph was everything theChurch liked in her high officials. His theology was conservative, so were his ethics532; his brain was quick andsubtle, his face gave away nothing of what went on behind it; and he had an exquisite466 knack533 of knowing just howto please those he was with, whether he liked them or loathed them, agreed with them or differed from them. Asycophant he was not, a diplomat529 he was. If he was repeatedly brought to the attention of those in the Vaticanhierarchy, his rise to prominence534 would be certain. And that would please His Grace di Contini-Verchese, for hedidn't want to lose contact with His Lordship de Bricassart.
It was very hot, but Bishop Ralph didn't mind the dry Athens air after Sydney's humidity. Walking rapidly, asusual in boots, breeches and soutane, he strode up the rocky ramp47 to the Acropolis, through the frowningPropylon, past the Erechtheum, on up the incline with its slippery rough stones to the Parthenon, and. down tothe wall beyond.
There, with the wind ruffling535 his dark curls, a little grey about the ears now, he stood and looked across thewhite city to the bright hills and the clear, astonishing aquamarine of the Aegean Sea. Right below him was thePlaka with its rooftop cafes, its colonies of Bohemians, and to one side a great theater lapped up the rock. In thedistance were Roman columns, Crusader forts and Venetian castles, but never a sign of the Turks. What amazingpeople, these Greeks. To hate the race who had ruled them for seven hundred years so much that once freed theyhadn't left a mosque537 or a minaret538 standing. And so ancient, so full of rich heritage. His Normans had been fur-clad barbarians539 when Pericles clothed the top of the rock in marble, and Rome had been a rude village. Onlynow, eleven thousand miles away, was he able to think of Meggie without wanting to weep. Even so, the distanthills blurred540 for a moment before he brought his emotions under control. How could he possibly blame her, whenhe had told her to do it? He understood at once why she had been determined228 not to tell him; she didn't want himto meet her new husband, or be a part of her new life. Of course in his mind he had assumed she would bringwhomever she married to Gillanbone if not to Drogheda itself, that she would continue to live where he knew herto be safe, free from care and danger. But once he thought about it, he could see this was the last thing she wouldwant. No, she had been bound to go away, and so long as she and this Luke O'neill were together, she wouldn'tcome back. Bob said they were saving to buy a property in Western Queensland, and that news had been thedeath knell541. Meggie meant never to come back. As far as he was concerned, she intended to be dead.
But are you happy, Meggie? Is he good to you? Do you love him, this Luke O'neill? What kind of man is he,that you turned from me to him? What was it about him, an ordinary stockman, that you liked better than EnochDavies or Liam O'Rourke or Alastair MacQueen? Was it that 1 didn't know him, that 1 could make nocomparisons? Did you do it to torture me, Meggie, to pay me back? But why are there no children? What's thematter with the man, that he roams up and down the state like a vagabond and puts you to live with friends? Nowonder you have no child; he's not with you long enough. Meggie, why? Why did you marry this Luke O'neill?
Turning, he made his way down from the Acropolis, and walked the busy streets of Athens. In the open-airmarkets around Evripidou Street he lingered, fascinated by the people, the huge baskets of kalamari and fishreeking in the sun, the vegetables and tinsel slippers542 hung side by side; the women amused him, their unashamedand open cooing over him, a legacy543 of a culture basically very different from his puritanical544 own. Had theirunabashed admiration been lustful545 (he could not think of a better word) it would have embarrassed him acutely,but he accepted it in the spirit intended, as an accolade546 for extraordinary physical beauty. The hotel was onOmonia Square, very luxurious547 and expensive. Archbishop diContini-Verchese was, sitting in a chair by his balcony windows, quietly thinking; as Bishop Ralph came in heturned his head, smiling. "In good time, Ralph. I would like to pray.""I thought everything was settled? Are there sudden complications, Your Grace?""Not of that kind. I had a letter from Cardinal Monteverdi today, expressing the wishes of the Holy Father."Bishop Ralph felt his shoulders tighten548, a curious prickling of the skin around his ears. "Tell me.""As soon as the talks are over-and they are over-I am to proceed to Rome. There I am to be blessed with thebiretta of a cardinal, and continue my work in Rome under the direct supervision549 of His Holiness.""Whereas I?""You will become Archbishop de Bricassart, and go back to Australia to fill my shoes as Papal Legate."The prickling skin around his ears flushed red hot; his head whirled, rocked. He, a non-Italian, to be honoredwith the Papal Legation! It was unheard of! Oh, depend on it, he would be Cardinal de Bricassart yet! "Of courseyou will receive training and instruction in Rome first. That will take about six months, during which I will bewith you to introduce you to those who are my friends. I want them to know you, because the time will comewhen I shall send for you, Ralph, to help me with my work in the Vatican.""Your Grace, I can't thank you enough! It's due to you, this great chance." "God grant I am sufficientlyintelligent to see when a man is too able to leave in obscurity, Ralph! Now let us kneel and pray. God is verygood." His rosary beads550 and missal were sitting on a table nearby; hand trembling, Bishop Ralph reached for thebeads and knocked the missal to the floor. It fell open at the middle. The Archbishop; who was closer to it,picked it up and looked curiously at the brown, tissue thin shape which had once been a rose.
"How extraordinary! Why do you keep this? Is it a memory of your home, or perhaps of your mother?" Theeyes which saw through guile282 and dissimulation551 were looking straight at him, and there was no time to disguisehis emotion, or his apprehension552.
"No." He grimaced553. "I want no memories of my mother.""But it must have great meaning for you, that you store it so lovingly within the pages of the book most dear toyou. Of what does it speak?" "Of a love as pure as that I bear my God, Vittorio. It does the book nothing buthonor.""That I deduced, because I know you. But the-love, does it endanger your love for the Church?""No. It was for the Church I forsook554 her, that I always will forsake555 her. I've gone so far beyond her, and I cannever go back again.""So at last I understand the sadness! Dear Ralph, it is not as bad as you think, truly it is not. You will live to dogreat good for many people, you will be loved by many people. And she, having the love which is contained insuch an old, fragrant memory as this, will never want. Because you kept the love alongside the rose.""I don't think she understands at all.""Oh, yes. If you have loved her thus, then she is woman enough to understand. Otherwise you would haveforgotten her, and abandoned this relic556 long since.""There have been times when only hours on my knees have stopped me from leaving my post, going to her."The Archbishop eased himself out of his chair and came to kneel beside his friend, this beautiful man whom heloved as he had loved few things other than his God and his Church, which to him were indivisible. "You willnot leave, Ralph, and you know it well. You belong to the Church, you always have and you always will. Thevocation for you is a true one. We shall pray now, and I shall add the Rose to my prayers for the rest of my life.
Our Dear Lord sends us many griefs and much pain during our progress to eternal life. We must learn to bear it, Ias much as you."At the end of August Meggie got a letter from Luke to say he was in Townsville Hospital with Weil's disease,but that he was in no danger and would be out soon.
"So it looks like we don't have to wait until the end of the year for our holiday, Meg. I can't go back to the caneuntil I'm one hundred percent fit, and the best way to make sure I am is to have a decent holiday. So I'll be alongin a week or so to pick you up. We're going to Lake Eacham on the Atherton Tableland for a couple of weeks,until I'm well enough to go back to work."Meggie could hardly believe it, and didn't know if she wanted to be with him or not, now that the opportunitypresented itself. Though the pain of her mind had taken a lot longer to heal than the pain of her body, thememory of her honeymoon ordeal in the Dunny pub had been pushed from thought so long it had lost the powerto terrify her, and from her reading she understood better now that much of it had been due to ignorance, her ownand Luke's. Oh, dear Lord, pray this holiday would mean a child! If she could only have a baby to love it wouldbe so much easier. Anne wouldn't mind a baby around, she'd love it. So would Luddie. They had told her so ahundred times, hoping Luke would come once for long enough to rectify557 his wife's barren loveless existence.
When she told them what the letter said they were delighted, but privately558 skeptical559.
"Sure as eggs is eggs that wretch66 will find some excuse to be off without her," said Anne to Luddie.
Luke had borrowed a car from somewhere, and picked Meggie up early in the morning. He looked thin,wrinkled and yellow, as if he had been pickled. Shocked, Meggie gave him her case and climbed in beside him.
"What is Weil's disease, Luke? You said you weren't in any danger, but it looks to me as if you've been very sickindeed.""Oh, it's just some sort of jaundice most cutters get sooner or later. The cane rats carry it, we pick it up througha cut or sore. I'm in good health, so I wasn't too sick compared to some who get it. The quacks561 say I'll be fit as afiddle in no time."Climbing up through a great gorge501 filled with jungle, the road led inland, a river in full spate44 roaring andtumbling below, and at one spot a magnificent waterfall spilling to join it from somewhere up above, rightathwart the road. They drove between the cliff and the angling water in a wet, glittering archway of fantasticlight and shadow. And as they climbed the air grew cool, exquisitely fresh; Meggie had forgotten how good coolair made her feel. The jungle leaned across them, so impenetrable no one ever dared to enter it. The bulk of itwas quite invisible under the weight of leafy vines lying sagging562 from treetop to treetop, continuous and endless,like a vast sheet of green velvet395 flung across the forest. Under the eaves Meggie caught glimpses of wonderfulflowers and butterflies, cartwheeling webs with great elegant speckled spiders motionless at their hubs, fabulousfungi chewing at mossy trunks, birds with long trailing red or blond tails. Lake Eacham lay on top of thetableland, idyllic563 in its unspoiled setting. Before night fell they strolled out onto the veranda of theirboardinghouse to look across the still water. Meggie wanted to watch the enormous fruit bats called flying foxeswheel like precursors564 of doom565 in thousands down toward the places where they found their food. They weremonstrous and repulsive, but singularly timid, entirely benign566. To see them come across a molten sky in dark,pulsating sheets was awesome567; Meggie never missed watching for them from the Himmelhoch veranda.
And it was heaven to sink into a soft cool bed, not have to lie still until one spot was sweat-saturated and thenmove carefully to a new spot, knowing the old one wouldn't dry out anyway. Luke took a flat brown packet outof his case, picked a handful of small round objects out of it and laid them in a row on the bedside table.
Meggie reached out to take one, inspect it. "What on earth is it?" she asked curiously.
"A French letter." He had forgotten his decision of two years ago, not to tell her he practiced contraception. "Iput it on myself before I go inside you. Otherwise I might start a baby, and we can't afford to do that until we getour place." He was sitting naked on the side of the bed, and he was thin, ribs568 and hips protruding569. But his blueeyes shone, he reached out to clasp her hand as it held the French letter. "Nearly there,Meg, nearly there! I reckon another five thousand pounds will buy us the best property to be had west ofCharters Towers.""Then you've got it," she said, her voice quite calm. "I can write to Bishop de Bricassart and ask him for a loanof the money. He won't charge us interest.""You most certainly won't!" he snapped. "Damn it, Meg, where's your pride? We'll work for what we have, notborrow! I've never owed anyone a penny in all my life, and I'm not going to start now."She scarcely heard him, glaring at him through a haze570 of brilliant red. In all her life she had never been soangry! Cheat, liar89, egotist! How dared he do it to her, trick her out of a baby, try to make her believe he ever hadany intention of becoming a grazier! He'd found his niche571, with Arne Swenson and the sugar.
Concealing573 her rage so well it surprised her, she turned her attention back to the little rubber wheel in her hand.
"Tell me about these French letter things. How do they stop me having a baby?"He came to stand behind her, and contact of their bodies made her shiver; from excitement he thought, fromdisgust she knew. "Don't you know anything, Meg?""No," she lied. Which was true about French letters, at any rate; she could not remember ever seeing a mentionof them.
His hands played with her breasts, tickling. "Look, when I come I make this-I don't know-stuff, and if I'm upinside you with nothing on, it stays there. When it stays there long enough or often enough, it makes a baby." Sothat was it! He wore the thing, like a skin on a sausage! Cheat! Turning off the light, he drew her down onto thebed, and it wasn't long before he was groping for his antibaby device; she heard him making the same sounds hehad made in the Dunny pub bedroom, knowing now they meant he was pulling on the French letter. The cheat!
But how to get around it?
Trying not to let him see how much he hurt her, she endured him. Why did it have to hurt so, if this was anatural thing?
"It's no good, is it, Meg?" he asked afterward275. "You must be awfully574 small for it to keep on hurting so muchafter the first time. Well, I won't do it again. You don't mind if I do it on your breast, do you?" "Oh, what does itmatter?" she asked wearily. "If you mean you're not going to hurt me, all right!""You might be a bit more enthusiastic, Meg!""What for?"But he was rising again; it was two years since he had had time or energy for this. Oh, it was nice to be with awoman, exciting and forbidden. He didn't feel at all married to Meg; it wasn't any different from getting a bit inthe paddock behind the Kynuna pub, or having high-and-mighty Miss Carmichael against the shearing shed wall.
Meggie had nice breasts, firm from all that riding, just the way he liked them, and he honestly preferred to get hispleasure at her breast, liking the sensation of unsheathed penis sandwiched between their bellies575. French letterscut a man's sensitivity a lot, but not to don one when he put himself inside her was asking for trouble.
Groping, he pulled at her buttocks and made her lie on top of him, then seized one nipple between his teeth,feeling the hidden point swell and harden on his tongue. A great contempt for him had taken. possession ofMeggie; what ridiculous creatures men were, grunting576 and sucking and straining for what they got out of it. Hewas becoming more excited, kneading her back and bottom, gulping away for all the world like a greatovergrown kitten sneaked577 back to its mother. His hips began to move in a rhythmic578, jerky fashion, and sprawledacross him awkwardly because she was hating it too much to try helping him, she felt the tip of his unprotectedpenis slide between her legs.
Since she was not a participant in the act, her thoughts were her own. And it was then the idea came. As slowlyand unobtrusively as she could, she maneuvered579 him until he was right at the most painful part of her; with agreat indrawn breath to keep her courage up, she forced the penis in, teeth clenched. But though it did hurt, itdidn't hurt nearly as much. Minus its rubber sheath, his member was more slippery, easier to introduce and fareasier to tolerate.
Luke's eyes opened. He tried to push her away, but oh, God! It was unbelievable without the French letter; hehad never been inside a woman bare, had never realized what a difference it made. He was so close, so excited hecouldn't bring himself to push her away hard enough, and in the end he put his arms round her, unable to keep uphis breast activity. Though it wasn't manly580 to cry out, he couldn't prevent the noise leaving him, and afterwardkissed her softly.
"Luke?""What?""Why can't we do that every time? Then you wouldn't have to put on a French letter.""We shouldn't have done it that time, Meg, let alone again. I was right in you when I came."She leaned over him, stroking his chest. "But don't you see? I'm sitting up! It doesn't stay there at all, it runsright out again! Oh, Luke, please! It's so much nicer, it doesn't hurt nearly as much. I'm sure it's all right, becauseI can feel it running out. Please!"What human being ever lived who could resist the repetition of perfect pleasure when offered so plausibly581?
Adam-like, Luke nodded, for at this stage he was far less informed than Meggie.
"I suppose there's truth in what you say, and it's much nicer for me when you're not fighting it. All right, Meg,we'll do it that way from now on."And in the darkness she smiled, content. For it had not all run out. The moment she felt him shrink out of hershe had drawn up all the internal muscles into a knot, slid off him onto her back, stuck her crossed knees in theair casually and hung on to what she had with every ounce of determination in her. Oho, my fine gentleman, I'llfix you yet! You wait and see, Luke O'neill! I'll get my baby if it kills me! Away from the heat and humidity ofthe coastal plain Luke mended rapidly. Eating well, he began to put the weight he needed back again, and hisskin faded from the sickly yellow to its usual brown. With the lure582 of an eager, responsive Meggie in his bed itwasn't too difficult to persuade him to prolong the original two weeks into three, and then into four. But at theend of a month he rebelled.
"There's no excuse, Meg. I'm as well as I've ever been. We're sitting up here on top of the world like a king andqueen, spending money. Arne needs me.""Won't you reconsider, Luke? If you really wanted to, you could buy your station now.""Let's hang on a bit longer the way we are, Meg."He wouldn't admit it, of course, but the lure of the sugar was in his bones, the strange fascination583 some menhave for utterly demanding labor. As long as his young man's strength held up, Luke would remain faithful to thesugar. The only thing Meggie could hope for was to force him into changing his mind by giving him a child, anheir to the property out around Kynuna.
So she went back to Himmelhoch to wait and hope. Please, please, let there be a baby! A baby would solveeverything, so please let there be a baby. And there was. When she told Anne and Luddie, they were overjoyed.
Luddie especially turned out to be a treasure. He did the most exquisite smocking and embroidery584, two craftsMeggie had never had time to master, so while he pushed a tiny needle through delicate fabric with his horny,magical hands, Meggie helped Anne get the nursery together. The only trouble was the baby wasn't sitting well,whether because of the heat or her unhappiness Meggie didn't know. The morning sickness was all day, andpersisted long after it should have stopped; in spite of her very slight weight gain she began to suffer badly fromtoo much fluid in the tissues of her body, and her blood pressure went up to a point at which Doc Smith becameapprehensive. At first he talked of hospital in Cairns for the remainder of her pregnancy585, but after a long thinkabout her husbandless, friendless situation he decided she would be better off with Luddie and Anne, who didcare for her. For the last three weeks of her term, however, she must definitely go to Cairns.
"And try to get her husband to come and see her!" he roared to Luddie. Meggie had written right away to tellLuke she was pregnant, full of the usual feminine conviction that once the not-wanted was an irrefutable fact,Luke would become wildly enthusiastic. His answering letter scotched any such delusions586. He was furious. Asfar as he was concerned, becoming a father simply meant he would have two nonworking mouths to feed, insteadof none. It was a bitter pill for Meggie to swallow, but swallow it she did; she had no choice. Now the comingchild bound her to him as tightly as her pride. But she felt ill, helpless, utterly unloved; even the baby didn't loveher, didn't want to be conceived or born. She could feel it inside her, the weakly tiny creature's feeble protestsagainst growing into being. Had she been able to tolerate the two-thousand-mile rail journey home, she wouldhave gone, but Doc Smith shook his lead firmly. Get on a train for a week or more, even in broken stages, andthat would be the end of the baby. Disappointed and unhappy though she was, Meggie wouldn't consciously doanything to harm the baby. Yet as time went on her enthusiasm and her longing to have someone of her own tolove withered in her; the incubus588 child hung heavier, more resentful.
Doc Smith talked of an earlier transfer to Cairns; he wasn't sure Meggie could survive a birth in Dungloe, whichhad only a cottage infirmary. Her blood pressure was recalcitrant589, the fluid kept mounting; he talked of toxemiaand eclampsia, other long medical words which frightened Anne and Luddie into agreeing, much as they longedto see the baby born at Himmelhoch. By the end of May there were only four weeks left to go, four weeks untilMeggie could rid herself of this intolerable burden, this ungrateful child. She was learning to hate it, the verybeing she had wanted so much before discovering what trouble it would cause. Why had she assumed Lukewould look forward to the baby once its existence was a reality? Nothing in his attitude or conduct since theirmarriage indicated he would. Time she admitted it was a disaster, abandoned her silly pride and tried to salvagewhat she could from the ruins. They had married for all the wrong reasons: he for her money, she as an escapefrom Ralph de Bricassart while trying to retain Ralph de Bricassart. There had never been any pretense590 at love,and only love might have helped her and Luke to overcome the enormous difficulties their differing aims anddesires created. Oddly enough, she never seemed able to hate Luke, where she found herself hating Ralph deBricassart more and more frequently. Yet when all was said and done, Ralph had been far kinder and fairer to herthan Luke. Not once had he encouraged her to dream of him in any roles save priest and friend, for even on thetwo occasions when he had kissed her, she had begun the move herself.
Why be so angry with him, then? Why hate Ralph and not Luke? Blame her own fears and inadequacies, thehuge, outraged591 resentment592 she felt because he had consistently rejected her when she loved and wanted him somuch. And blame that stupid impulse which had led her to marry Luke O'neill. A betrayal of her own self andRalph. No matter if she could never have married him, slept with him, had his child. No matter if he didn't wanther, and he didn't want her. The fact remained that he was who she wanted, and she ought never to have settledfor less.
But knowing the wrongs couldn't alter them. It was still Luke O'neill she had married, Luke O'neill's child shewas carrying. How could she be happy at the thought of Luke O'neill's child, when even he didn't want it? Poorlittle thing. At least when it was born it would be its own piece of humanity, and could be loved as that. Only . . .
What wouldn't she give, for Ralph de Bricassart's child? The impossible, the never-to-be. He served aninstitution which insisted on having all of him, even that part of him she had no use for, his manhood. ThatMother Church required from him as a sacrifice to her power as an institution, and thus wasted him, stamped hisbeing out of being, made sure that when he stopped he would be stopped forever. Only one day she would haveto pay for her greed. One day there wouldn't be any more Ralph de Bricassarts, because they'd value theirmanhood enough to see that her demanding it of them was a useless sacrifice, having no meaning whatsoever ....
Suddenly she stood up and waddled593 through to the living room, where Anne was sitting reading an undergroundcopy of Norman Lindsay's banned novel, Redheap, very obviously enjoying every forbidden word. "Anne, Ithink you're going to get your wish."Anne looked up absently. "What, dear?""Phone Doc Smith. I'm going to have this wretched baby here and now." "Oh, my God! Get into the bedroomand lie down--not your bedroom, ours!" Cursing the whims595 of fate and the determination of babies, Doc Smithhurried out from Dungloe in his battered car with the local midwife in the back and as much equipment as hecould carry from his little cottage hospital. No use taking her there; he could do as much for her at Himmelhoch.
But Cairns was where she ought to be. "Have you let the husband know?" he asked as he pounded up the frontsteps, his midwife behind him.
"I sent a telegram. She's in my room; I thought it would give you more space."Hobbling in their wake, Anne went into her bedroom. Meggie was lying on the bed, wide-eyed and giving noindication of pain except for an occasional spasm of her hands, a drawing-in of her body. She turned her head tosmile atAnne, and Anne saw that the eyes were very frightened. "I'm glad I never got to Cairns" she said. "My mothernever went to hospital to have hers, and Daddy said once she had a terrible time with Hat. But she survived, andso will I. We're hard to kill, we Cleary women." It was hours later when the doctor joined Anne on the veranda.
"It's a long, hard business for the little woman. First babies are rarely easy, but this one's not lying well and shejust drags on without getting anywhere. If she was in Cairns she could have a Caesarean, but that's out of thequestion here. She'll just have to push it out all by herself." "Is she conscious?""Oh, yes. Gallant596 little soul, doesn't scream or complain. The best ones usually have the worst time of it in myopinion. Keeps asking me if Ralph's here yet, and I have to tell her some lie about the Johnstone in flood. Ithought her husband's name was Luke?""It is.""Hmmm! Well, maybe that's why she's asking for this Ralph, whoever he is. Luke's no comfort, is he?""Luke's a bastard597."Anne leaned forward, hands on the veranda railing. A taxi was coming from the Dunny road, and had turned offup the incline to Himmelhoch. Her excellent eyesight just discerned a black-haired man in the back, and shecrowed with relief and joy.
"I don't believe what I see, but I think Luke's finally remembered he's got a wife!""I'd best go back to her and leave you to cope with him, Anne. I won't mention it to her, in case it isn't him. If itis him, give him a cup of tea and save the hard stuff for later. He's going to need it."The taxi drew up; to Anne's surprise the driver got out and went to the back door to open it for his passenger.
Joe Castiglione, who ran Dunny's sole taxi, wasn't usually given to such courtesies.
"Himmelhoch, Your Grace," he said, bowing deeply. A man in a long, flowing black soutane got out, a purplegrosgrain sash about his waist. As he turned, Anne thought for a dazed moment that Luke O'neill was playingsome elaborate trick on her. Then she saw that this was a far different man, a good ten years older than Luke. MyGod! she thought as the graceful598 figure mounted her steps two at a time. He's the handsomest chap I've everseen! An archbishop, no less! What does a Catholic archbishop want with a pair of old Lutherans like Luddie andme? "Mrs. Mueller?" he asked, smiling down at her with kind, aloof599 blue eyes. As if he had seen much he wouldgive anything not to have seen, and had managed to stop feeling long ago.
"Yes, I'm Anne Mueller.""I'm Archbishop Ralph de Bricassart, His Holiness's Legate in Australia. I understand you have a Mrs. LukeO'neill staying with you?" "Yes, sir." Ralph? Ralph? Was this Ralph?
"I'm a very old friend of hers. I wonder if I might see her, please?" "Well, I'm sure she'd be delighted,Archbishop"!---no, that wasn't right, one didn't say Archbishop, one said Your Grace, like JoeCastiglione-"under more normal circumstances, but at the moment Meggie's in labor, and having a very hardtime."Then she saw that he hadn't succeeded in stopping feeling at all, only disciplined it to a doglike abjection600 at theback of his thinking mind. His eyes were so blue she felt she drowned in them, and what she saw in them nowmade her wonder what Meggie was to him, and what he was to Meggie. "I knew something was wrong! I've feltthat something was wrong for a long time, but of late my worry's become an obsession601. I had to come and see formyself. Please, let me see her! If you wish for a reason, I am a priest." Anne had never intended to deny him.
"Come along, Your Grace, through here, please." And as she shuffled602 slowly between her two sticks she keptthinking: Is the house clean and tidy? Have I dusted? Did we remember to throw out that smelly old leg of lamb,or is it all through the place? What a time for a man as important as this one to come calling! Luddie, will younever get your fat arse off that tractor and come in? The boy should have found you hours ago! He went past DocSmith and the midwife as if they didn't exist to drop on his knees beside the bed, his hand reaching for hers.
"Meggie!"She dragged herself out of the ghastly dream into which she had sunk, past caring, and saw the beloved faceclose to hers, the strong black hair with two white wings in its darkness now, the fine aristocratic features a littlemore lined, more patient if possible, and the blue eyes looking into hers with love and longing. How had she everconfused Luke with him? There was no one like him, there never would be for her, and she had betrayed whatshe felt for him. Luke was the dark side of the mirror; Ralph was as splendid as the sun, and as remote. Oh, howbeautiful to see him!
"Ralph, help me," she said.
He kissed her hand passionately603, then held it to his cheek. "Always, my Meggie, you know that.""Pray for me, and the baby. If anyone can save us, you can. You're much closer to God than we are. No onewants us, no one has ever wanted us, even you.""Where's Luke?""I don't know, and I don't care." She closed her eyes and rolled her head upon the pillow, but the fingers in hisgripped strongly, wouldn't let him go.
Then Doc Smith touched him on the shoulder. "Your Grace, I think you ought to step outside now.""If her life is in danger, you'll call me?""In a second."Luddie had finally come in from the cane, frantic604 because there was no one to be seen and he didn't dare enterthe bedroom. "Anne, is she all right?" he asked as his wife came out with the Archbishop.
"So far. Doc won't commit himself, but I think he's got hope. Luddie, we have a visitor. This is ArchbishopRalph de Bricassart, an old friend of Meggie's."Better versed605 than his wife, Luddie dropped on one knee and kissed the ring on the hand held out to him. "Sitdown, Your Grace, talk to Anne. I'll go and put a kettle on for some tea.""So you're Ralph," Anne said, propping606 her sticks against a bamboo table while the priest sat opposite her withthe folds of his soutane falling about him, his glossy black riding boots clearly visible, for he had crossed hisknees. It was an effeminate thing for a man to do, but he was a priest so it didn't matter; yet there was somethingintensely masculine about him, crossed legs or no. He was probably not as old as she had first thought; in hisvery early forties, perhaps. What a waste of a magnificent man!
"Yes, I'm Ralph.""Ever since Meggie's labor started she's been asking for someone called Ralph. I must admit I was puzzled. Idon't ever remember her mentioning a Ralph before.""She wouldn't.""How do you know Meggie, Your Grace? For how long?" The priest smiled wryly607 and clasped his thin, verybeautiful hands together so they made a pointed church roof. "I've known Meggie since she was ten years old,only days off the boat from New Zealand. You might in all truth say that I've known Meggie through flood andfire and emotional famine, and through death, and life. All that we have to bear. Meggie is the mirror in whichI'm forced to view my mortality.""You love her!" Anne's tone was surprised.
"Always.""It's a tragedy for both of you.""I had hoped only for me. Tell me about her, what's happened to her since she married. It's many years sinceI've seen her, but I haven't been happy about her.""I'll tell you, but only after you've told me about Meggie. Oh, I don't mean personal things, only about what sortof life she led before she came toDunny. We know absolutely nothing of her, Luddie and I, except that she used to live somewhere nearGillanbone. We'd like to know more, because we're very fond of her. But she would never tell us a thing-pride, Ithink." Luddie carried in a tray loaded with tea and food, and sat down while the priest gave them an outline ofMeggie's life before she married Luke. "I would never have guessed it in a million years! To think Luke O'neillhad the temerity608 to take her from all that and put her to work as a housemaid! And had the hide to stipulate609 thather wages be put in his bank-book! Do you know the poor little thing has never had a penny in her purse tospend on herself since she's been here? I had Luddie give her a cash bonus lastChristmas, but by then she needed so many things it was all spent in a day, and she'd never take more from us.""Don't feel sorry for Meggie," said Archbishop Ralph a little harshly. "I don't think she feels sorry for herself,certainly not over lack of money. It's brought little joy to her after all, has it? She knows where to go if she can'tdo without it. I'd say Luke's apparent indifference has hurt her far more than the lack of money. My poorMeggie!" Between them Anne and Luddie filled in the outline of Meggie's life, while Archbishop de Bricassartsat, his hands still steepled, his gaze on the lovely sweeping fan of a traveler's palm outside. Not once did amuscle in his face move, or a change come into those detachedly beautiful eyes. He had learned much sincebeing in the service of Vittorio Scarbanza, Cardinal di Contini Verchese.
When the tale was done he sighed, and shifted his gaze to their anxious faces. "Well, it seems we must help her,since Luke will not. If Luke truly doesn't want her, she'd be better off back on Drogheda. I know you don't wantto lose her, but for her sake try to persuade her to go home. I shall send you a check from Sydney for her, so shewon't have the embarrassment of asking her brother for money. Then when she gets home she can tell them whatshe likes." He glanced toward the bedroom door and moved restlessly. "Dear God, let the child be born!"But the child wasn't born until nearly twenty-four hours later, and Meggie almost dead from exhaustion andpain. Doc Smith had given her copious610 doses of laudanum, that still being the best thing, in his old-fashionedopinion; she seemed to drift whirling through spiraling nightmares in which things from without and withinripped and tore, clawed and spat42, howled and whined611 and roared. Sometimes Ralph's face would come into focusfor a small moment, then go again on a heaving tide of pain; but the memory of him persisted, and while he keptwatch she knew neither she nor the baby would die. Pausing, while the midwife coped alone, to snatch food anda stiff tot of rum and check that none of his other patients were inconsiderate enough to think of dying, DocSmith listened to as much of the story as Anne and Luddie thought wise to tell him.
"You're right, Anne," he said. "All that riding is probably one of the reasons for her trouble now. When thesidesaddle went out it was a bad thing for women who must ride a lot. Astride develops the wrong muscles." "I'dheard that was an old wives' tale," said the Archbishop mildly. Doc Smith looked at him maliciously612. He wasn'tfond of Catholic priests, deemed them a sanctimonious613 lot of driveling fools. "Think what you like," he said.
"But tell me, Your Grace, if it came down to a choice between Meggie's life and the baby's, what would yourconscience advise?""The Church is adamant on that point, Doctor. No choice must ever be made. The child cannot be done to deathto save the mother, nor the mother done to death to save the child." He smiled back at Doc Smith just asmaliciously. "But if it should come to that, Doctor, I won't hesitate to tell you to save Meggie, and the hell withthe baby."Doc Smith gasped, laughed, and clapped him on the back. "Good for you! Rest easy, I won't broadcast whatyou said. But so far the child's alive, and I can't see what good killing614 it is going to do."But Anne was thinking to herself: I wonder what your answer would have been if the child was yours,Archbishop?
About three hours later, as the afternoon sun was sliding sadly down the sky toward Mount Bartle Frere's mistybulk, Doc Smith came out of the bedroom.
"Well, it's over," he said with some satisfaction. "Meggie's got a long road ahead of her, but she'll be all right,God willing. And the baby is a skinny, cranky, five-pound girl with a whopping great head and a temper tomatch the most poisonous red hair I've ever seen on a newborn baby. You couldn't kill that little mite344 with anaxe, and I know, because I nearly tried."Jubilant, Luddie broke out the bottle of champagne he had been saving, and the five of them stood with theirglasses brimming; priest, doctor, midwife, farmer and cripple toasted the health and well-being616 of the mother andher screaming, crotchety baby. It was the first of June, the first day of the Australian winter.
A nurse had arrived to take over from the midwife, and would stay until Meggie was pronounced out of alldanger. The doctor and the midwife left, while Anne, Luddie and the Archbishop went to see Meggie. Shelooked so tiny and wasted in the double bed that Archbishop Ralph was obliged to store away another, separatepain in the back of his mind, to be taken out later, inspected and endured. Meggie, my torn and beatenMeggie . . . I shall love you always, but I cannot give you what Luke O'neill did, however grudgingly617.
The grizzling scrap367 of humanity responsible for all this lay in a wicker bassinet by the far wall, not a bitappreciative of their attention as they stood around her and peered down. She yelled her resentment, and kept onyelling. In the end the nurse lifted her, bassinet and all; and put her in the room designated as her nursery.
"There's certainly nothing wrong with her lungs." Archbishop Ralph smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed andtaking Meggie's pale hand. "I don't think she likes life much," Meggie said with an answering smile. How mucholder he looked! As fit and supple618 as ever, but immeasurably older. She turned her head to Anne and Luddie, andheld out her other hand. "My dear good friends! Whatever would I have done without you? Have we heard fromLuke?""I got a telegram saying he was too busy to come, but wishing you good luck.""Big of him," said Meggie.
Anne bent quickly to kiss her check. "We'll leave you to talk with the Archbishop, dear. I'm sure you've got alot of catching up to do." Leaning onLuddie, she crooked619 her finger at the nurse, who was gaping621 at the priest as if she couldn't believe her eyes.
"Come on, Nettie, have a cup of tea with us. His Grace will let you know if Meggie needs you.""What are you going to call your noisy daughter?" he asked as the door closed and they were alone.
"Justine.""It's a very good name, but why did you choose it?" "I read it somewhere, and I liked it.""Don't you want her, Meggie?"Her face had shrunk, and seemed all eyes; they were soft and filled with a misty615 light, no hate but no loveeither. "I suppose I want her. Yes, I do want her. I schemed enough to get her. But while I was carrying her Icouldn't feel anything for her, except that she didn't want me. I don't think Justine will ever be mine, or Luke's, oranyone's. I think she's always going to belong to herself.""I must go, Meggie," he said gently.
Now the eyes grew harder, brighter: her mouth twisted into an unpleasant shape. "I expected that! Funny howthe men in my life all scuttle622 off into the woodwork, isn't it?"He winced623. "Don't be bitter, Meggie. I can't bear to leave thinking of you like this. No matter what's happenedto you in the past, you've always retained your sweetness and it's the thing about you I find most endearing. Don'tchange, don't become hard because of this. I know it must be terrible to think that Luke didn't care enough tocome, but don't change. You wouldn't be my Meggie anymore." But still she looked at him half as if she hatedhim. "Oh, come off it, Ralph! I'm not your Meggie, I never was! You didn't want me, you sent me to him, toLuke. What do you think I am, some sort of saint, or a nun197? Well, I'm not! I'm an ordinary human being, andyou've spoiled my life! All the years I've loved you, and wanted to forget you, but then I married a man I thoughtlooked a little bit like you, and he doesn't want me or need me either. Is it so much to ask of a man, to be neededand wanted by him?" She began to sob624, mastered it; there were fine lines of pain on her face that he had neverseen before, and he knew they weren't the kind that rest and returning health would smooth away.
"Luke's not a bad man, or even an unlikable one," she went on. "Just a man. You're all the same, great big hairymoths bashing yourselves to pieces after a silly flame behind a glass so clear your eyes don't see it. And if you domanage to blunder your way inside the glass to fly into the flame, you fall down burned and dead. While all thetime out there in the cool night there's food, and love, and baby moths625 to get. But do you see it, do you want it?
No! It's back after the flame again, beating yourselves senseless until you burn yourselves dead!"He didn't know what to say to her, for this was a side of her he had never seen. Had it always been there, or hadshe grown it out of her terrible trouble and abandonment? Meggie, saying things like this? He hardly heard whatshe said, he was so upset that she should say it, and so didn't understand that it came from her loneliness, and herguilt. "Do you remember the rose you gave me the night I left Drogheda?" he asked tenderly.
"Yes, I remember." The life had gone out of her voice, the hard light out of her eyes. They stared at him nowlike a soul without hope, as expressionless and glassy as her mother's.
"I have it still, in my missal. And every time I see a rose that color, I think of you. Meggie, I love you. You'remy rose, the most beautiful human image and thought in my life."Down went the corners of her mouth again, up shone that tense, glittering fierceness with the tang of hate in it.
"An image, a thought! A human image and thought! Yes, that's right, that's all I am to you! You're nothing but aromantic, dreaming fool, Ralph de Bricassart! You have no more idea of what life is all about than the moth24 Icalled you! No wonder you became a priest! You couldn't live with the ordinariness of life if you were anordinary man any more than ordinary man Luke does!
"You say you love me, but you have no idea what love is; you're just mouthing words you've memorizedbecause you think they sound good! What floors me is why you men haven't managed to dispense335 with uswomen altogether, which is what you'd like to do, isn't it? You should work out a way of marrying each other;you'd be divinely happy!" "Meggie, don't! Please don't!""Oh, go away! I don't want to look at you! And you've forgotten one thing about your precious roses, Ralphthey'vegot nasty, hooky thorns!" He left the room without looking back.
Luke never bothered to answer the telegram informing him he was the proud father of a five-pound girl namedJustine. Slowly Meggie got better, and the baby began to thrive. Perhaps if Meggie could have managed to feedher she might have developed more rapport626 with the scrawny, bad-tempered627 little thing, but she had absolutelyno milk in the plenteous breasts Luke had so loved to suck. That's an ironic385 justice, she thought. She dutifullychanged and bottle-fed the red-faced, red-headed morsel478 just as custom dictated628 she should, waiting for thecommencement of some wonderful, surging emotion. But it never came; she felt no desire to smother22 the tinyface with kisses, or bite the wee fingers, or do any of the thousand silly things mothers loved to do with babies. Itdidn't feel like her baby, and it didn't want or need her any more than she did it. It, it! Her, her! She couldn't evenremember to call it her. Luddie and Anne never dreamed Meggie did not adore Justine, that she felt less forJustine than she had for any of her mother's younger babies. Whenever Justine cried Meggie was right there topick her up, croon to her, rock her, and never was a baby drier or more comfortable. The strange thing was thatJustine didn't seem to want to be picked up or crooned over; she quieted much faster if she was left alone.
As time went on she improved in looks. Her infant skin lost its redness, acquired that thin blue-veinedtransparency which goes so often with red hair, and her little arms and legs filled out to pleasing plumpness. Thehair began to curl and thicken and to assume forever the same violent shade her grandfather Paddy had owned.
Everyone waited anxiously to see what color her eyes would turn out to be, Luddie betting on her father's blue,Anne on her mother's grey, Meggie without an opinion. But Justine's eyes were very definitely her own, andunnerving to say the least. At six weeks they began to change, and by the ninth week had gained their final colorand form. No one had even seen anything like them. Around the outer rim98 of the iris100 was a very dark grey ring,but the iris itself was so pale it couldn't be called either blue or grey; the closest description of the color was asort of dark white. They were riveting629, uncomfortable, inhuman eyes, rather blind-looking; but as time went on itwas obvious Justine saw through them very well. Though he didn't mention it, Doc Smith had been worried bythe size of her head when she was born, and kept a close watch on it for the first six months of her life; he hadwondered, especially after seeing those strange eyes, if she didn't perhaps have what he still called water on thebrain, though the textbooks these days were calling it hydrocephalus. But it appeared Justine wasn't sufferingfrom any kind of cerebral630 dysfunction or malformation; she just had a very big head, and as she grew the rest ofher more or less caught up to it. Luke stayed away. Meggie had written to him repeatedly, but he neitheranswered nor came to see his child. In a way she was glad; she wouldn't have known what to say to him, and shedidn't think he would be at all entranced with the odd little creature who was his daughter. Had Justine been astrapping big son he might have relented, but Meggie was fiercely glad she wasn't. She was living proof the greatLuke O'neill wasn't perfect, for if he was he would surely have sired nothing but sons. The baby thrived betterthan Meggie did, recovered faster from the birth ordeal. By the time she was four months old she ceased to cry somuch and began to amuse herself as she lay in her bassinet, fiddling631 and pinching at the rows of brightly coloredbeads strung within her reach. But she never smiled at anyone, even in the guise of gas pains. The Wet cameearly, in October, and it was a very wet Wet. The humidity climbed to 100 percent and stayed there; every dayfor hours the rain roared and whipped about Himmelhoch, melting the scarlet soil, drenching251 the cane, filling thewide, deep Dungloe River but not overflowing it, for its course was so short the water got away into the seaquickly enough. While Justine lay in her bassinet contemplating632 her world through those strange eyes, Meggiesat dully watching Bartle Frere disappear behind a wall of dense311 rain, then reappear.
The sun would come out, writhing633 veils of steam issue from the ground, the wet cane shimmer154 and sparklediamond prisms, and the river seem like a great gold snake. Then hanging right across the vault634 of the sky adouble rainbow would materialize, perfect throughout its length on both bows, so rich in its coloring against thesullen dark-blue clouds that all save a North Queensland landscape would have been paled and diminished.
Being North Queensland, nothing was washed out by its ethereal glow, and Meggie thought she knew why theGillanbone countryside was so brown and grey; North Queensland had usurped635 its share of the palette as well.
One day at the beginning of December, Anne came out onto the veranda and sat down beside her, watching her.
Oh, she was so thin, so lifeless! Even the lovely goldy hair had dulled.
"Meggie, I don't know whether I've done the wrong thing, but I've done it anyway, and I want you at least tolisten to me before you say no." Meggie turned from the rainbows, smiling. "You sound so solemn, Anne! Whatis it I must listen to?""Luddie and I are worried about you. You haven't picked up properly since Justine was born, and now TheWet's here you're looking even worse. You're not eating and you're losing weight. I've never thought the climatehere agreed with you, but as long as nothing happened to drag you down you managed to cope with it. Now wethink you're sick, and unless something's done you're going to get really ill."She drew a breath. "So a couple of weeks ago I wrote to a friend of mine in the tourist bureau, and booked youa holiday. And don't start protesting about the expense; it won't dent255 Luke's resources or ours. The Archbishopsent us a very big check for you, and your brother sent us another one for you and the baby-I think he washinting go home for a while-from everyone on Drogheda. And after we talked it over, Luddie and I decided thebest thing we could do was spend some of it on a holiday for you. I don't think going home to Drogheda is theright sort of holiday, though. What Luddie and I feel you need most is a thinking time. No Justine, no us, noLuke, no Drogheda. Have you ever been on your own, Meggie? It's time you were. So we've booked you acottage on Matlock Island for two months, from the beginning of January to the beginning of March. Luddie andI will look after Justine. You know she won't come to any harm, but if we're the slightest bit worried about her,you have our word we'll notify you right away, and the island's on the phone so it wouldn't take long to fetch youback." The rainbows had gone, so had the sun; it was getting ready to rain again. "Anne, if it hadn't been for youand Luddie these past three years, I would have gone mad. You know that. Sometimes in the night I wake upwondering what would have happened to me had Luke put me with people less kind. You've cared for me morethan Luke has.""Twaddle! If Luke had put you with unsympathetic people you would have gone back to Drogheda, and whoknows? Maybe that might have been the best course." "No. It hasn't been pleasant, this thing with Luke, but itwas far better for me to stay and work it out."The rain was beginning to inch its way across the dimming cane blotting636 out everything behind its edge, like agrey cleaver637. "You're right, I'm not well," Meggie said. "I haven't been well since Justine was conceived. I'vetried to pull myself up, but I suppose one reaches a point where there isn't the energy to do it. Oh, Anne, I'm sotired and discouraged! I'm not even a good mother to Justine, and I owe her that. I'm the one caused her to be;she didn't ask for it. But mostly I'm discouraged because Luke, won't even give me a chance to make him happy.
He won't live with me or let me make a home for him; he doesn't want our children. I don't love him -I never didlove him the way a woman ought to love the man she marries, and maybe he sensed it from the word go. Maybeif I had loved him, he would have acted differently. So how can I blame him? I've only myself to blame, I think.""It's the Archbishop you love, isn't it?""Oh, ever since I was a little girl! I was hard on him when he came. Poor Ralph! I had no right to say what I didto him, because he never encouraged me, you know. I hope he's had time to understand that I was in pain, wornout, and terribly unhappy. All I could think was it ought by rights to be his child and it never would be, nevercould be. It isn't fair! Protestant clergy638 can marry, why can't Catholic? And don't try to tell me ministers don'tcare for their flocks the way priests do, because I won't believe you. I've met heartless priests and wonderfulministers. But because of the celibacy639 of priests I've had to go away from Ralph, make my home and my lifewith someone else, have someone else's baby. And do you know something, Anne? That's as disgusting a sin asRalph breaking his vows, or more so. I resent the Church's implication that my loving Ralph or his loving me iswrong!" "Go away for a while, Meggie. Rest and eat and sleep and stop fretting640. Then maybe when you comeback you can somehow persuade Luke to buy that station instead of talking about it. I know you don't love him,but I think if he gave you half a chance you might be happy with him."The grey eyes were the same color as the rain falling in sheets all around the house; their voices had risen toshouting pitch to be audible above the incredible din8 on the iron roof.
"But that's just it, Anne! When Luke and I went up to Atherton I realized at last that he'll never leave the sugarwhile he's got the strength to cut it. He loves the life, he really does. He loves being with men as strong andindependent as he is himself; he loves roaming from one place to the other. He's always been a wanderer, now Icome to think of it. As for needing a woman for pleasure if nothing else, he's too exhausted by the cane. Andhow can I put it? Luke is the kind of man who quite genuinely doesn't care if he eats his food off a packing crateand sleeps on the floor. Don't you see? One can't appeal to him as to one who likes nice things, because hedoesn't. Sometimes I think he despises nice things, pretty things. They're soft, they might make him soft. I haveabsolutely no enticements powerful enough to sway him from his present way of life."She glanced up impatiently at the veranda roof, as if tired of shouting. "I don't know if I'm strong enough totake the loneliness of having no home for the next ten or fifteen years, Anne, or however long it's going to takeLuke to wear himself out. It's lovely here with you; I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful. But I want a home! Iwant Justine to have brothers and sisters, I want to dust my own furniture, I want to make curtains for my ownwindows, cook on my own stove for my own man. Oh, Anne! I'm just an ordinary sort of a woman; I'm notambitious or intelligent or well educated, you know that. All I want is a husband, children, my own home. And abit of love from someone!"Anne got out her handkerchief, wiped her eyes and tried to laugh. "What a soppy pair we are! But I dounderstand, Meggie, really I do. I've been married to Luddie for ten years, the only truly happy ones of my life. Ihad infantile paralysis641 when I was five years old, and it left me like this. I was convinced no one would ever lookat me. Nor did they, God knows. When I met Luddie I was thirty years old, teaching for a living. He was tenyears younger than me, so I couldn't take him seriously when he said he loved me and wanted to marry me. Howterrible, Meggie, to ruin a very young man's life! For five years I treated him to the worst display of downrightnastiness you could imagine, but he always came back for more. So I married him, and I've been happy. Luddiesays he is, but I'm not sure. He's had to give up a lot, including children, and he looks older than I do these days,poor chap." "It's the life, Anne, and the climate."The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun; the sun came out, the rainbows waxed to full glory in the steamysky; Mount Bartle Frere loomed642 lilac out of the scudding643 clouds.
Meggie spoke309 again. "I'll go. I'm very grateful to you for thinking of it; it's probably what I need. But are yousure Justine won't be too much trouble?""Lord, no! Luddie's got it all worked out. Anna Maria, who used to work for me before you came, has ayounger sister, Annunziata, who wants to go nursing in Townsville. But she won't be sixteen until March, andshe finishes school in a few days. So while you're away she's going to come here. She's an expert foster mother,too. There are hordes of babies in the Tesoriero clan." "Matlock Island. Where is it?""Just near Whitsunday Passage on the Great Barrier Reef. It's very quiet and private, mostly a honeymoonresort, I suppose. You know the sort of thing-cottages instead of a central hotel. You won't have to go to dinnerin a crowded dining room, or be civil to a whole heap of people you'd rather not talk to at all. And at this time ofyear it's just about deserted644, because of the danger of summer cyclones645. The Wet isn't a problem, but no one everseems to want to go to the Reef in summer. Probably because most of the people who go to the Reef come fromSydney or Melbourne, and summer down there is lovely without going away. In June and July and August thesoutherners have it booked out for three years ahead."On the last day of 1937 Meggie caught the train to Townsville. Though her holiday had scarcely begun, shealready felt much better, for she had left the molasses reek35 of Dunny behind her. The biggest settlement in NorthQueensland, Townsville was a thriving town of several thousands living in white wooden houses atop stilts646. Atight connection between train and boat left her with no time to explore, but in a way Meggie wasn't sorry shehad to rush to the wharf647 without a chance to think; after that ghastly voyage across the Tasman sixteen years agoshe wasn't looking forward to thirty-six hours in a ship much smaller than the Wahine.
But it was quite different, a whispering slide in glassy waters, and she was twenty-six, not ten. The air wasbetween cyclones, the sea was exhausted; though it was only midday Meggie put her head down and sleptdreamlessly until the steward648 woke her at six the next morning with a cup of tea and a plate of plain sweetbiscuits.
Up on deck was a new Australia, different again. In a high clear sky, delicately colorless, a pink and pearlyglow suffused649 slowly upward from the eastern rim of the ocean until the sun stood above the horizon and thelight lost its neonatal redness, became day. The ship was slithering soundlessly through water which had no taint,so translucent650 over the side that one could look fathoms651 down to grottoes of purple and see the forms of vividfish flashing by. In distant vistas653 the sea was a greenish-hued654 aquamarine, splotched with wine-dark stains whereweed or coral covered the floor, and on all sides it seemed islands with palmy shores of brilliant white sand justgrew out of it spontaneously like crystals in silica-jungle-clad and mountainous islands or flat, bushy islands notmuch higher than the water. "The flat ones are the true coral islands," explained a crewman. "If they're ring-shaped and enclose a lagoon655 they're called atolls, but if they're just a lump of reef risen above the sea they'recalled cays. The hilly islands are the tops of mountains, but they're still surrounded by coral reefs, and they havelagoons.""Where's Matlock Island?" Meggie asked.
He looked at her curiously; a lone114 woman going on holiday to a honeymoon island like Matlock was acontradiction in terms. "We're sailing down Whitsunday Passage now, then we head out to the Pacific edge of thereef. Matlock's ocean side is pounded by the big breakers that come in for a hundred miles off the deep Pacificlike express trains, roaring so you can't hear yourself think. Can you imagine riding the same wave for a hundredmiles?" He sighed wistfully. "We'll be at Matlock before sundown, madam." And an hour before sundown thelittle ship heaved its way through the backwash of the surf whose spume rose like a towering misty wall into theeastern sky. A jetty on spindling piles doddered literally656 half a mile out across the reef exposed by low tide,behind it a high, craggy coastline which didn't fit in with Meggie's expectations of tropical splendor. An elderlyman stood waiting, helped her from ship to jetty, and took her cases from a crewman.
"How d'you do, Mrs. O'neill," he greeted her. "I'm Rob Walter. Hope your husband gets the chance to comeafter all. Not too much company on Matlock this time of year; it's really a winter resort."They walked together down the uneasy planking, the exposed coral molten in the dying sun and the fearsomesea a reflected, tumultuous glory of crimson657 foam658.
"Tide's out, or you'd have had a rougher trip. See the mist in the east? That's the edge of the Great Barrier Reefitself. Here on Matlock we hang onto it by the skin of our teeth; you'll feel the island shaking all the time fromthe pounding out there." He helped her into a car. "This is the windward side of Matlock-a bit wild andunwelcome looking, eh? But you wait until you see the leeward659 side, ah! Something like, it is."They hurtled with the careless speed natural to the only car on Matlock down a narrow road of crunchy coralbones, through palms and thick undergrowth with a tall hill rearing to one side, perhaps four miles across theisland's spine457.
"Oh, how beautiful!" said Meggie.
They had emerged on another road which ran all around the looping sandy shores of the lagoon side, crescent-shaped and hollow. Far out was more white spray where the ocean broke in dazzling lace on the edges of thelagoon reef, but within the coral's embrace the water was still and calm, a polished silver mirror tinged660 withbronze.
"Island's four miles wide and eight long," her guide explained. They drove past a straggling white building witha deep veranda and shoplike windows. "The general store," he said with a proprietary flourish. "I live there withthe Missus, and she's not too happy about a lone woman coming here, I can tell you. Thinks I'll be seduced661 washow she put it. Just as well the bureau said you wanted complete peace and quiet, because it soothed662 the Missus abit when I put you in the farthest out place we have. There's not a soul in your direction; the only other couplehere are on the other side. You can lark663 around without a stitch on-no one will see you. The Missus isn't going tolet me out of her sight while you're here. When you need something, just pick up your phone and I'll bring it out.
No sense walking all the way in. And Missus or no, I'll call in on you once a day at sunset, just to make sureyou're all right. Best that you're in the house then-and wear a proper dress, in case the Missus comes along forthe ride." A one-story structure with three rooms, the cottage had its own private curve of white beach betweentwo prongs of the hill diving into the sea, and here the road ended. Inside it was very plain, but comfortable. Theisland generated its own power, so there was a little refrigerator, electric light, the promised phone, and even awireless set. The toilet flushed, the bath had fresh water; more modern amenities664 than either Drogheda orHimmelhoch, Meggie thought in amusement. Easy to see most of the patrons were from Sydney or Melbourne,and so inured665 to civilization they couldn't do without it. Left alone while Rob sped back to his suspicious Missus,Meggie unpacked666 and surveyed her domain667. The big double bed was a great deal more comfortable than her ownnuptial couch had been. But then, this was a genuine honeymoon paradise and the one thing its clients woulddemand was a decent bed; the clients of the Dunny pub were usually too drunk to object to herniating springs.
Both the refrigerator and the overhead cupboards were well stocked with food, and on the counter stood a greatbasket of bananas, passion fruit, pineapples and mangoes. No reason why she shouldn't sleep well, and eat well.
For the first week Meggie seemed to do nothing but eat and sleep; she hadn't realized how tired she was, northat Dungloe's climate was what had killed her appetite. In the beautiful bed she slept the moment she lay down,ten and twelve hours at a stretch, and food had an appeal it hadn't possessed since Drogheda. She seemed to eatevery minute she was awake, even carrying mangoes into the water with her. Truth to tell, that was the mostlogical place to eat mangoes other than a bathtub; they just ran juice. Since her tiny beach lay within the lagoon,the sea was mirror calm and quite free of currents, very shallow. All of which she loved, because she couldn'tswim a stroke. But in water so salty it seemed almost to hold her up, she began to experiment; when she couldfloat for ten seconds at a time she was delighted. The sensation of being freed from the pull of the earth made herlong to be able to move as easily as a fish.
So if she mourned her lack of company, it was only because she would have liked to have someone to teach herto swim. Other than that, being on her own was wonderful. How right Anne had been! All her life there had beenpeople in the house. To have no one was such a relief, so utterly peaceful. She wasn't lonely at all; she didn'tmiss Anne or Luddie or Justine or Luke, and for the first time in three years she didn't yearn200 for Drogheda. OldRob never disturbed her solitude668, just chugged far enough down the road each sunset to make sure her friendlywave from the veranda wasn't a signal of distress669, turned the car and puttered off again, his surprisingly prettyMissus grimly riding shotgun. Once he phoned her to say he was taking the other couple in residence out in hisglass-bottomed boat, and would she like to come along? It was like having a ticket of admission to a whole newplanet, peering through the glass down into that teeming670, exquisitely fragile world, where delicate forms werebuoyed and bolstered671 by the loving intimacy of water. Live coral, she discovered, wasn't garishly672 hued from dyesthe way it was in the souvenir counter of the store. It was soft pink or beige or blue-grey, and around every knoband branch wavered a marvelous rainbow of color, like a visible aura. Great anemones673 twelve inches widefluttered fringes of blue or red or orange or purple tentacles674; white fluted675 clams676 as big as rocks beckoned677 unwaryexplorers to take a look inside with tantalizing678 glimpses of colorful, restless things through feathery lips; red lacefans swayed in water winds; bright-green ribbons of weed danced loose and drifting. Not one of the four in theboat would have been in the least surprised to see a mermaid679: a gleam of polished breast, a twisting glitter of tail,lazily spinning clouds of hair, an alluring680 smile taunting681 the siren's spell to sailors. But the fish! Like livingjewels they darted682 in thousands upon thousands, round like Chinese lanterns, slender like bullets, raimented incolors which glowed with life and the light-splitting quality water imparts, some on fire with scales of gold andscarlet, some cool and silvery blue, some swimming rag bags gaudier683 than parrots. There were needle-nosedgarfish, pug-nosed toadfish, fanged684 barracuda, a cavernous-mawed grouper lurking685 half seen in a grotto652, andonce a sleek686 grey nurse shark which seemed to take forever to pass silently beneath them.
"But don't worry," said Rob. "We're too far south here for sea wasps, so if anything on the Reef is going to killyou, it's most likely to be a stonefish. Never go walking on the coral without your shoes."Yes, Meggie was glad she went. But she didn't yearn to go again, or make friends with the couple Rob broughtalong. She immersed herself in the sea, and walked, and lay in the sun. Curiously enough, she didn't even misshaving books to read, for there always seemed to be something interesting to watch. She had taken Rob's adviceand stopped wearing clothes. At first she had tended to behave like a rabbit catching whiffs of dingo on thebreeze, bolting for cover if a twig687 cracked or a coconut fell like a cannonball from a palm. But after several daysof patent solitude she really began to feel no one would come near her, that indeed it was as Rob said, acompletely private domain. Shyness was wasted. And walking the tracks, lying in the sand, paddling in thatwarm salty water, she began to feel like an animal born and brought up in a cage, suddenly let loose in a gentle,sunny, spacious and welcoming world.
Away from Fee, her brothers, Luke, the unsparing, unthinking domination of her whole life, Meggie discoveredpure leisure; a whole kaleidoscope of thought patterns wove and unwove novel designs in her mind. For the firsttime in her life she wasn't keeping her conscious self absorbed in work thoughts of one description or another.
Surprised, she realized that keeping physically688 busy is the most effective blockade against totally mental activityhuman beings can erect689. .
Years ago Father Ralph had asked her what she thought about, and she had answered: Daddy and Mum, Bob,Jack, Hughie, Stu, the little boys, Frank, Drogheda, the house, work, the rainfall. She hadn't said him, but he wasat the top of the list, always. Now add to those Justine, Luke, Luddie and Anne, the cane, homesickness, therainfall. And always, of course, the lifesaving release she found in books. But it had all come and gone in suchtangled, unrelated clumps691 and chains; no opportunity, no training to enable her to sit down quietly and think outwho exactly was Meggie Cleary, Meggie O'neill? What did she want? What did she think she was put on thisearth for? She mourned the lack of training, for that was an omission692 no amount of time on her own could everrectify. However, here was the time, the peace, the laziness of idle physical well-being; she could lie on the sandand try. Well, there was Ralph. A wry, despairing laugh. Not a good place to start, but in a sense Ralph was likeGod; everything began and ended with him. Since the day he had knelt in the sunset dust of the Gilly station yardto take her between his hands, there had been Ralph, and though she never saw him again as long as she lived, itseemed likely that her last thought this side of the grave would be of him. How frightening, that one person couldmean so much, so many things.
What had she said to Anne? That her wants and needs were quite ordinary-a husband, children, a home of herown. Someone to love. It didn't seem much to ask; after all, most women had the lot. But how many of thewomen who had them were truly content? Meggie thought she would be, because for her they were so hard tocome by.
Accept it, Meggie Cleary. Meggie ONEILL. The someone you want is Ralph de Bricassart, and you just can'thave him. Yet as a man he seems to have ruined you for anyone else. All right, then. Assume that a man and thesomeone to love can't occur. It will have to be children to love, and the love you receive will have to come fromthose children. Which in turn means Luke, and Luke's children.
Oh, dear God, dear God! No, not dear God! What's God ever done for me, except deprive me of Ralph? We'renot too fond of each other, God and I. And do You know something, God? You don't frighten me the way Youused to. How much I feared You, Your punishment! All my life I've trodden the straight and narrow, from fear ofY. And what's it got me? Not one scrap more than if I'd broken every rule in Your book. You're a fraud, God, ademon of fear. You treat us like children, dangling punishment. But You don't frighten me anymore. Because itisn't Ralph I ought to be hating, it's Y. It's all Your fault, not poor Ralph's. He's just living in fear of You, the wayI always have. That he could love You is something I can't understand. I don't see what there is about You tolove.
Yet how can I stop loving a man who loves God? No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to do it. He's the moon,and I'm crying for it. Well, you've just got to stop crying for it, Meggie ONEILL, that's all there is to it. You'regoing to have to content yourself with Luke, and Luke's children. By hook or by crook620 you're going to weanLuke from the wretched sugar, and live with him out where there aren't even any trees. You're going to tell theGilly bank manager that your future income stays in your own name, and you're going. to use it to have thecomforts and conveniences in your treeless home that Luke won't think to provide for you. You're going to use itto educate Luke's children properly, and make sure they never want. And that's all there is to be said about it,Meggie O'neill. I'm Meggie O'neill, not Meggie de Bricassart. It even sounds silly, Meggie de Bricassart. I'dhave to be Meghann de Bricassart, and I've always hated Meghann. Oh, will I ever stop regretting that they're notRalph's children? That's the question, isn't it? Say it to yourself, over and over again: Your life is your own,Meggie O'neill, and you're not going to waste it dreaming of a man and children you can never have.
There! That's telling yourself! No use thinking of what's past, what must be buried. The future's the thing, andthe future belongs to Luke, to Luke's children. It doesn't belong to Ralph de Bricassart. He is the past. Meggierolled over in the sand and wept as she hadn't wept since she was three years old: noisy wails693, with only the crabsand the birds to hear her desolation.
Anne Mueller had chosen Matlock Island deliberately695, planning to send Luke there as soon as she could. Themoment Meggie was on her way she sent Luke a telegram saying Meggie needed him desperately, please tocome. By nature she wasn't given to interfering696 in other people's lives, but she loved and pitied Meggie, andadored the difficult, capricious scrap Meggie had borne and Luke fathered. Justine must have a home, and bothher parents. It would hurt to see her go away, but better that than the present situation. Luke arrived two dayslater. He was on his way to the CSR in Sydney, so it didn't cost him much time to go out of his way. Time he sawthe baby; if it had been a boy he would have come when it was born, but news of a girl had disappointed himbadly. If Meggie insisted on having children, let them at least be capable of carrying on the Kynuna station oneday. Girls were no flaming use at all; they just ate a man out of house and home and when they were grown upthey went and worked for someone else instead of staying put like boys to help their old father in his last years.
"How's Meg?" he asked as he came up onto the front veranda. "Not sick, I hope?""You hope. No, she's not sick. I'll tell you in a minute. But first come and see your beautiful daughter."He stared down at the baby, amused and interested but not emotionally moved, Anne thought.
"She's got the queerest eyes I've ever seen," he said. "I wonder whose they are?""Meggie says as far as she knows no one in her family.""Nor mine. She's a throwback, the funny little thing. Doesn't look too happy, does she?""How could she look happy?" Anne snapped, hanging on to her temper grimly. "She's never seen her father, shehas no real home and not much likelihood of one before she's grown up if you go on the way you are!" "I'msaving, Anne!" he protested.
"Rubbish! I know how much money you've got. Friends of mine in Charters Towers send me the-local paperfrom time to time, so I've seen the ads for western properties a lot closer in than Kynuna, and a lot more fertile.
There's a Depression on, Luke! You could pick up a beauty of a place for a lot less by far than the amount youhave in the bank, and you know it." "Now that's just it! There's a Depression on, and west of the ranges a bloodyterrible drought from Junee to the Isa. It's in its second year and there's no rain at all, not a drop. Right now I'llbet Drogheda's hurting, so what do you think it's like out around Winton and Blackall? No, I reckon I ought towait.""Wait until the price of land goes up in a good wet season? Come off it, Luke! Now's the time to buy! WithMeggie's assured two thousand a year, you can wait out a ten-year drought! Just don't stock the place. Live onMeggie's two thousand a year until the rains come, then put your stock on.""I'm not ready to leave the sugar yet," he said, stubbornly, still staring at his daughter's strange light eyes.
"And that's the truth at last, isn't it? Why don't you admit it, Luke? You don't want to be married, you'd ratherlive the way you are at the moment, hard, among men, working your innards out, just like one out of every twoAustralian men I've ever known! What is it about this frigging country, that its men prefer being with other mento having a home life with their wives and children? If the bachelor's life is what they truly want, why on earthdo they try marriage at all? Do you know how many deserted wives there are in Dunny alone, scraping anexistence and trying to rear their children without fathers? Oh, he's just off in the sugar, he'll be back, you know,it's only for a little while. Hah! And every mail they're there hanging over the front gate waiting for the postie,hoping the bastard's sent them a little money. And mostly he hasn't, sometimes he has not enough, but somethingto keep things going!"She was trembling with rage, her gentle brown eyes sparking. "You know, I read in the Brisbane Mail thatAustralia has the highest percentage of deserted wives in the civilized world? It's the only thing we beat everyother country at-isn't that a record to be proud of!" "Go easy, Anne! I haven't deserted Meg; she's safe and she'snot starving. What's the matter with you?""I'm sick of the way you treat your wife, that's what! For the love of God, Luke, grow up, shoulder yourresponsibilities for a while! You've got a wife and baby! You should be making a home for them-be a husbandand a father, not a bloody stranger!""I will, I will! But I can't yet; I've got to carry on in the sugar for a couple more years just to make sure. I don'twant to say I'm living off Meg, which is what I'd be doing until things got better."Anne lifted her lip contemptuously. "Oh, bullshit! You married her for her money, didn't you?"A dark-red flush stained his brown face. He wouldn't look at her. "I admit the money helped, but I married herbecause I liked her better than anyone else.""You liked her! What about loving her?""Love! What's love? Nothing but a figment of women's imagination, that's all." He turned away from the criband those unsettling eyes, not sure someone with eyes like that couldn't understand what was being said. "And ifyou've quite finished telling me off, where's Meg?" "She wasn't well. I sent her away for a while. Oh, don'tpanic! Not on your money. I was hoping I could persuade you to join her, but I see that's impossible.""Out of the question. Arne and I are on our way to Sydney tonight." "What shall I tell Meggie when she comesback?" He shrugged218, dying to get away. "I don't care. Oh, tell her to hang on a while longer. Now that she's goneahead with the family business, I wouldn't mind a son."Leaning against the wall for support, Anne bent over the wicker basket and lifted the baby up, then managed toshuffle to the bed and sit down. Luke made no move to help her, or take the baby; he looked rather frightened ofhis daughter.
"Go away, Luke!-You don't deserve what you've got. I'm sick of the sight of you. Go back to bloody Arne, andthe flaming sugar, and the backbreak!" At the door he paused. "What did she call it? I've forgotten its name.""Justine, Justine, Justine!""Bloody stupid name," he said, and went out.
Anne put Justine on the bed and burst into tears. God damn all men but Luddie, God damn them! Was it thesoft, sentimental697, almost womanish streak in Luddie made him capable of loving? Was Luke right? Was it just afigment of women's imaginations? Or was it something only women were able to feel, or men with a littlewoman in them? No woman could ever hold Luke, no woman ever had. What he wanted no woman could evergive him. But by the next day she had calmed down, no longer feeling she had tried for nothing. A postcard fromMeggie had come that morning, waxing enthusiastic about Matlock Island and how well she was. Somethinggood had come out of it. Meggie was feeling better. She would come back as the monsoons diminished and beable to face her life. But Anne resolved not to tell her about Luke.
So Nancy, short for Annunziata, carried Justine out onto the front veranda, while Anne hobbled out with thebaby's wants in a little basket between her teeth; clean diaper, tin of powder and toys. She settled in a cane chair,took the baby from Nancy and began to feed her from the bottle of Lactogen Nancy had warmed. It was verypleasant, life was very pleasant; she had done her best to make Luke see sense, and if she had failed, at least itmeant Meggie and Justine would remain at Himmelhoch a while longer. She had no doubt that eventuallyMeggie would realize there was no hope of salvaging698 her relationship with Luke, and would then return toDrogheda. But Anne dreaded699 the day.
A red English sports car roared off the Dunny road and up the long, hilly drive; it was new and expensive, itsbonnet strapped700 down with leather, its silver exhausts and scarlet paintwork glittering. For a while she didn'trecognize the man who vaulted701 over the low door, for he wore the North Queensland uniform of a pair of shortsand nothing else. My word, what a beautiful bloke! she thought, watching him appreciatively and with a twingeof memory as he took the steps two at a time. I wish Luddie wouldn't eat so much; he could do with a bit of thischap's condition. Now, he's no chicken-look at those marvelous silver temples but I've never seen a cane cutter inbetter nick.
When the calm, aloof eyes looked into hers, she realized who he was.
"My God!" she said, and dropped the baby's bottle. He retrieved702 it, handed it to her and leaned against theveranda railing, facing her: "It's all right. The teat didn't strike the ground; you can feed her with it." The babywas just beginning a deprived quiver. Anne stuck the rubber in her mouth and got enough breath back to speak.
"Well, Your Grace, this is a surprise!" Her eyes slid over him, amused. "I must say you don't exactly look like anarchbishop. Not that you ever did, even in the proper togs. I always imagine archbishops of any religiousdenomination to be fat and self-satisfied.""At the moment I'm not an archbishop, only a priest on a well-earned holiday, so you can call me Ralph. Is thisthe little thing caused Meggie so much trouble when I was here last? May I have her? I think I can manage tohold the bottle at the appropriate angle."He settled into a chair alongside Anne, took baby and bottle and continued to feed her, his legs crossedcasually.
"Did Meggie name her Justine?""Yes.""I like it. Good Lord, look at the color of her hair! Her grandfather all over.""That's what Meggie says. I hope the poor little mite doesn't come out in a million freckles703 later on, but I thinkshe will.""Well, Meggie's sort of a redhead and she isn't a bit freckled. Though Meggie's skin is a different color andtexture, more opaque236." He put the empty bottle down, sat the baby bolt upright on his knee, facing him, bent herforward in a salaam704 and began rhythmically705 rubbing her back hard. "Among my other duties I have to visitCatholic orphanages706, so I'm quite deedy with babies. Mother Gonzaga at my favorite infants' home always saysthis is the only way to burp a baby. Holding it over one's shoulder doesn't flex707 the body forward enough, thewind can't escape so easily, and when it does come up there's usually lots of milk as well. This way the baby'sbent in the middle, which corks708 the milk in while it lets the gas escape." As if to prove his point, Justine gaveseveral huge eructations but held her gorge. He laughed, rubbed again, and when nothing further happenedsettled her in the crook of his arm comfortably. "What fabulously709 exotic eyes! Magnificent, aren't they? TrustMeggie to have an unusual baby.""Not to change the subject, but what a father you'd have made, Father." "I like babies and children, I alwayshave. It's much easier for me to enjoy them, since I don't have any of the unpleasant duties fathers do." "No, it'sbecause you're like Luddie. You've got a bit of woman in you." Apparently Justine, normally so isolationist,returned his liking; she had gone to sleep. Ralph settled her more snugly710 and pulled a packet of Capstans fromhis shorts pocket.
"Here, give them to me. I'll light one for you.""Where's Meggie?" he asked, taking a lit cigarette from her. "Thank you. I'm sorry, please take one foryourself.""She's not here. She never really got over the bad time she had when Justine was born, and The Wet seemed tobe the last straw. So Luddie and I sent her away for two months. She'll be back around the first of March; anotherseven weeks to go."The moment Anne spoke she was aware of the change in him; as if the whole of his purpose had suddenlyevaporated, and the promise of some very special pleasure.
He drew a long breath. "This is the second time I've come to say goodbye and not found her .... Athens, andnow again. I was away for a year then and it might have been a lot longer; I didn't know at the time. I had nevervisited Drogheda since Paddy and Stu died, yet when it came I found I couldn't leave Australia without seeingMeggie. And she'd married, gone away. I wanted to come after her, but I knew it wouldn't have been fair to heror to Luke. This time I came because I knew I couldn't harm what isn't there.""Where are you going?""To Rome, to the Vatican. Cardinal di Contini Verchese has taken over the duties of Cardinal Monteverdi, whodied not long ago. And he's asked for me, as I knew he would. It's a great compliment, but more than that. Icannot refuse to go.""How long will you be away?""Oh, a very long time, I think. There are war rumbles711 in Europe, though it seems so far away up here. TheChurch in Rome needs every diplomat she has, and thanks to Cardinal di Contini-Verchese I'm classified as adiplomat. Mussolini is closely allied712 to Hitler, birds of a feather, and somehow the Vatican has to reconcile twoopposing ideologies713, Catholicism and Fascism. It won't be easy. I speak German very well, learned Greek when Iwas in Athens and Italian when I was in Rome. I also speak French and Spanish fluently." He sighed. "I'vealways had a talent for languages, and I cultivated it deliberately. It was inevitable714 that I would be transferred.""Well, Your Grace, unless you're sailing tomorrow you can still see Meggie."The words popped out before Anne let herself stop to think; why shouldn't Meggie see him once before he wentaway, especially if, as he seemed to think, he was going to be away a very long time? His head turned towardher. Those beautiful, distant blue eyes were very intelligent and very hard to fool. Oh, yes, he was a borndiplomat! He knew exactly what she was saying, and every reason at the back of her mind. Anne found herselfhanging breathlessly on his answer, but for a long time he said nothing, just sat staring out over the emerald canetoward the brimming river, with the baby forgotten in the crook of his arm. Fascinated, she stared at his profile-the curve of eyelid715, the straight nose, the secretive mouth, the determined chin. What forces was he marshalingwhile he contemplated716 the view? What complicated balances of love, desire, duty, expediency717, will power,longing, did he weigh in his mind, and which against which? His hand lifted the cigarette to his lips; Anne sawthe fingers tremble and soundlessly let go her breath. He was not indifferent, then. For perhaps ten minutes hesaid nothing; Anne lit him another Capstan, handed it to him in place of the burned-out stub. It, too, he smokeddown steadily718, not once lifting his gaze from the far mountains and the monsoon clouds lowering the sky.
"Where is she?" he asked then in a perfectly normal voice, throwing the second stub over the veranda railingafter the first. And on what she answered depended his decision; it was her turn to think. Was one right to pushother human beings on a course which led one knew not where, or to what? Her loyalty719 was all to Meggie; shedidn't honestly care an iota720 what happened to this man. In his way he was no better than Luke. Off after somemale thing with never the time or the inclination to put a woman ahead of it, running and clutching at somedream which probably only existed in has addled594 head. No more substance than the smoke from the milldissipating itself in the heavy, molasses-laden air. But it was what he wanted, and he would spend himself andhis life in chasing it. He hadn't lost his good sense, no matter what Meggie meant to him. Not even for her-andAnne was beginning to believe he loved Meggie more than anything except that strange ideal-would hejeopardize the chance of grasping what he wanted in his hands one day. No, not even for her. So if she answeredthat Meggie was in some crowded resort hotel where he might be recognized, he wouldn't go. No one knewbetter than he that he wasn't the sort who could become anonymous721 in a crowd. She licked her lips, found hervoice. "Meggie's in a cottage on Matlock Island.""On where?""Matlock Island. It's a resort just off Whitsunday Passage, and it's specially285 designed for privacy. Besides, atthis time of the year there's hardly a soul on it." She couldn't resist adding, "Don't worry, no one will see you!""How reassuring722." Very gently he eased the sleeping baby out of his arms, handed her to Anne. "Thank you," hesaid, going to the steps. Then he turned back, in his eyes a rather pathetic appeal. "You're quite wrong," he said.
"I just want to see her, no more than that. I shall never involve Meggie in anything which might endanger herimmortal soul.""Or your own, eh? Then you'd better go as Luke O'neill; he's expected. That way you'll be sure to create noscandal, for Meggie or for yourself." "And what if Luke turns up?""There's no chance of that. He's gone to Sydney and he won't be back until March. The only way he could haveknown Meggie was on Matlock is through me, and I didn't tell him, Your Grace.""Does Meggie expect Luke?"Anne smiled wryly. "Oh, dear me, no.""I shan't harm her," he insisted. "I just want to see her for a little while, that's all.""I'm well aware of it, Your Grace. But the fact remains723 that you'd harm her a great deal less if you wantedmore," said Anne.
When old Rob's car came sputtering724 along the road Meggie was at her station on the cottage veranda, handraised in the signal that everything was fine and she needed nothing. He stopped in the usual spot to reverse, butbefore he did so a man in shorts, shirt and sandals sprang out of the car, suitcase in hand.
"Hooroo, Mr. O'neill!" Rob yelled as he went. But never again would Meggie mistake them, Luke O'neill andRalph de Bricassart. That wasn't Luke; even at the distance and in the fast-fading light she wasn't deceived. Shestood dumbly and waited while he walked down the road toward her, Ralph de Bricassart. He had decided hewanted her after all. There could be no other reason for his joining her in a place like this, calling himself LukeO'neill. Nothing in her seemed to be functioning, not legs or mind or heart. This was Ralph come to claim her,why couldn't she feel? Why wasn't she running down the road to his arms, so utterly glad to see him nothing elsemattered? This was Ralph, and he was all she had ever wanted out of living; hadn't she just spent more than aweek trying to get that fact out of her mind? God damn him, God damn him! Why the hell did he have to comewhen she was finally beginning to get him out of her thoughts, if not out of her heart? Oh, it was all going to startagain! Stunned725, sweating, angry, she stood woodenly waiting, watching that graceful form grow larger. "Hello,Ralph," she said through clenched teeth, not looking at him. "Hello, Meggie.""Bring your case inside. Would you like a hot cup of tea?" As she spoke she led the way into the living room,still not looking at him. "That would be nice," he said, as stilted726 as she. He followed her into the kitchen andwatched while she plugged in an electric jug727, filled the teapot from a little hot-water geyser over the sink, andbusied herself getting cups and saucers down from a cupboard. When she handed him the big five-pound tin ofArnotts biscuits he took a couple of handfuls of cookies out of it and put them on a plate. The jug boiled, sheemptied the hot water out of the teapot, spooned loose tea into it and filled it with bubbling water. While shecarried the cookie plate and the teapot, he followed with the cups and saucers, back into the living room. Thethree rooms had been built alongside each other, the bedroom opening off one side of the living room and thekitchen off the other, with the bathroom beyond it. This meant the house had two verandas728, one facing the roadand the other the beach. Which in turn meant they each had somewhere excusable to look without having to lookat each other. Full darkness had fallen with tropical suddenness, but the air through the wide-open sliding doorswas filled with the lapping of water, the distant surf on the reef, the coming and going of the warm soft wind.
They drank the tea in silence, though neither could eat a biscuit, and the silence stretched on after the tea wasfinished, he shifting his gaze to her and she keeping hers steadfastly729 on the breezy antics- of a baby palm outsidethe road-veranda doors.
"What's the matter, Meggie?" he asked, so gently and tenderly her heart knocked frantically730, and seemed to diefrom the pain of it, the old query731 of the grown man to the little girl. He hadn't come to Matlock to see the womanat all. He had come to see the child. It was the child he loved, not the woman. The woman he had hated from themoment she came into being. Round and up came her eyes to his, amazed, outraged, furious; even now, evennow! Time suspended, she stared at him so, and he was forced to see, breath caught astounded, the grownwoman in those glass-clear eyes. Meggie's eyes. Oh, God, Meggie's eyes!
He had meant what he said to Anne Mueller; he just wanted to see her, nothing more. Though he loved her, hehadn't come to be her lover. Only to see her, talk to her, be her friend, sleep on the living room couch while hetried once more to unearth732 the taproot of that eternal fascination she possessed for him, thinking that if only hecould see it fully55 exposed, he might gain the spiritual means to eradicate733 it. It had been hard to adjust to a Meggiewith breasts, a waist, hips; but he had done it because when he looked into her eyes, there like the pool of light ina sanctuary734 lamp shone his Meggie. A mind and a spirit whose pulls he had never been free from since firstmeeting her, still unchanged inside that distressingly735 changed body; but while he could see proof of theircontinued existence in her eyes, he could accept the altered body, discipline his attraction to it.
And, visiting his own wishes and dreams upon her, he had never doubted she wanted to do the same until shehad turned on him like a goaded736 cat, at Justine's birth. Even then, after the anger and hurt died in him, he hadattributed her behavior to the pain she had gone through, spiritual more than physical. Now, seeing her at last asshe was, he could pinpoint157 to a second the moment when she had shed the lenses of childhood, donned the lensesof a woman: that interlude in the Drogheda cemetery737 after Mary Carson's birthday party. When he had explainedto her why he couldn't show her any special attention, because people might deem him interested in her as a man.
She had looked at him with something in her eyes he had not understood, then looked away, and when she turnedback the expression was gone. From that time, he saw now, she had thought of him in a different light; she hadn'tkissed him in a passing weakness when she had kissed him, then gone back to thinking of him in the old way, ashe had her. He had perpetuated738 his illusions, nurtured739 them, tucked them into his unchanging way of life as besthe could, worn them like a hair shirt. While all the time she had furnished her love for him with woman's objects.
Admit it, he had physically wanted her from the time of their first kiss, but the want had never plagued him theway his love for her had; seeing them as separate and distinct, not facets740 of the same thing. She, poormisunderstood creature, had never succumbed741 to this particular folly742. At that moment, had there been any way hecould have got off Matlock Island, he would have fled from her like Orestes from the Eumenides. But he couldn'tquit the island, and he did have the courage to remain in her presence rather than senselessly walk the night.
What can I do, how can I possibly make reparation? I do love her! And if I love her, it has to be because of theway she is now, not because of a juvenile743 way station along her road. It's womanly things I've always loved inher; the bearing of the burden. So, Ralph de Bricassart, take off your blinkers, see her as she really is, not as shewas long ago. Sixteen years ago, sixteen long incredible years . . . I am forty-four and she is twenty-six; neitherof us is a child, but I am by far the more immature744. You took it for granted the minute I stepped out of Rob's car,isn't that so, Meggie? You assumed I had given in at last. And before you even had time to get your breath back Ihad to show you how wrong you were. I ripped the fabric of your delusion587 apart as if it had been a dirty old rag.
Oh, Meggie! What have I done to you? How could I have been so blind, so utterly self-centered? I'veaccomplished nothing in coming to see you, unless it is to cut you into little pieces. All these years we've beenloving at cross-purposes.
Still she was looking into his eyes, her own filling with shame, humiliation, but as the expressions flew acrosshis face to the final one of despairing pity she seemed to realize the magnitude of her mistake, the horror of it.
And more than that: the fact that he knew her mistake. Go, run! Run, Meggie, get out of here with the scrap ofpride he's left you! The instant she thought it she acted on it, she was up out of her chair and fleeing.
Before she could reach the veranda he caught her, the impetus745 of her flight spinning her round against him sohard he staggered. It didn't matter, any of it, the grueling battle to retain his soul's integrity, the long pressingdown of will upon desire; in moments he had gone lifetimes. All that power held dormant746, sleeping, only needingthe detonation747 of a touch to trigger a chaos748 in which mind was subservient749 to passion, mind's will extinguished inbody's will.
Up slid her arms around his neck, his across her back, spasmed; he bent his head, groped with his mouth forhers, found it. Her mouth, no longer an unwanted, unwelcome memory but real; her arms about him as if shecouldn't bear to let him go; the way she seemed to lose even the feel other bones; how dark she was like thenight, tangled690 memory and desire, unwanted memory and unwelcome desire. The years he must have longed forthis, longed for her and denied her power, kept himself even from the thought of her as a woman!
Did he carry her to the bed, or did they walk? He thought he must have carried her, but he could not be sure;only that she was there upon it, he was there upon it, her skin under his hands, his skin under hers. Oh, God! MyMeggie, my Meggie! How could they rear me from infancy750 to think you profanation751?
Time ceased to tick and began to flow, washed over him until it had no meaning, only a depth of dimensionmore real than real time. He could feel her yet he did not feel her, not as a separate entity370; wanting to make herfinally and forever a part of himself, a graft752 which was himself, not a symbiosis753 which acknowledged her asdistinct. Never again would he not know the upthrusts of breasts and belly and buttocks; the folds and crevices754 inbetween. Truly she was made for him, for he had made her; for sixteen years he had shaped and molded herwithout knowing that he did, let alone why he did. And he forgot that he had ever given her away, that anotherman had shown her the end of what he had begun for himself, had always intended for himself, for she was hisdownfall, his rose; his creation. It was a dream from which he would never again awaken755, not as long as he was aman, with a man's body. Oh, dear God! 1 know, 1 know! I know why I kept her as an idea and a child within mefor so long after she had grown beyond both, but why does it have to be learned like this?
Because at last he understood that what he had aimed to be was not a man. Not a man, never a man; somethingfar greater, something beyond the fate of a mere man. Yet after all his fate was here under his hands, struckquivering and alight with him, her man. A man, forever a man. Dear Lord, couldst Thou not have kept this fromme? I am a man, I can never be God; it was a delusion, that life in search of godhead. Are we all the same, wepriests, yearning756 to be God? We abjure757 the one act which irrefutably proves us men. He wrapped his arms abouther and looked down with eyes full of tears at the still, faintly lit face, watched its rosebud758 mouth drop open,gasp, become a helpless O of astonished pleasure. Her arms and legs were round him, living ropes which boundhim to her, silkily, sleekly759 tormented399 him; he put his chin into her shoulder and his cheek against the softness ofhers, gave himself over to the maddening, exasperating760 drive of a man grappling with fate. His mind reeled,slipped, became utterly dark and blindingly bright; for one moment he was within the sun, then the brilliancefaded, grew grey, and went out. This was being a man. He could be no more. But that was not the source of thepain. The pain was in the final moment, the finite moment, the empty, desolate761 realization762: ecstasy763 is fleeting764. Hecouldn't bear to let her go, not now that he had her; he had made her for himself. So he clung to her like adrowning man to a spar in a lonely sea, and soon, buoyant, rising again on a tide grown quickly familiar, hesuccumbed to the inscrutable fate which is a man's.
What was sleep? Meggie wondered. A blessing299, a respite765 from life, an echo of death, a demanding nuisance?
Whatever it was, he had yielded himself to it, and lay with his arm over her and his head beside her shoulder,possessive even in it. She was tired, too, but she would not let herself sleep. Somehow she felt if she relaxed hergrasp on consciousness he might not be there when she picked it up again. Later she could sleep, after he wasawake and the secretive, beautiful mouth uttered its first words. What would he say to her? Would he regret it?
Had she been a pleasure to him worth what he had abandoned? So many years he had fought it, made her fight itwith him; she could hardly make herself believe he had lain down his arms at last, but there had been things hehad said in the night and in the midst of his pain which blotted766 out his long denial of her.
She was supremely767 happy, happier than she could remember ever being. From the moment he had pulled herback from the door it had been a body poem, a thing of arms and hands and skin and utter pleasure. I was madefor him, and only for him .... That's why I felt so little with Luke! Borne out beyond the limits of endurance onher body's tide, all she could think was that to give him everything she could was more necessary to her than lifeitself. He must never regret it, never. Oh, his pain! There had been moments when she seemed actually to feel itas if it had been her own. Which only contributed to her happiness; there was some justice in his pain.
He was awake. She looked down into his eyes and saw the same love in their blueness which had warmed her,given her purpose since childhood; and with it a great, shadowed fatigue768. Not a weariness of the body, but aweariness of the soul.
He was thinking that in all his life he had never woken in the same bed as another person; it was in a way moreintimate than the sexual act preceding it, a deliberate indication of emotional ties, a cleaving769 to her. Light andempty as the air so alluringly770 full of marine536 tang and sun-soaked vegetation, he drifted for a while on the wingsof a different kind of freedom: the relief of relinquishing771 his mandate772 to fight her, the peace of losing a long,incredibly bloody war and finding the surrender far sweeter than the battles. Ah, but I gave you a good fight, myMeggie! Yet in the end it isn't your fragments I must glue together, but the dismembered chunks773 of myself. Youwere put in my life to show me how false, how presumptuous774 is the pride of a priest of my kind; like Lucifer Iaspired to that which is God's alone, and like Lucifer, I fell. I had the cha/y, the obedience775, even the povertybefore Mary Carson. But until this morningI have never known humility776. Dear Lord, if she meant nothing to me it would be easier to bear, but sometimes Ithink I love her far more than I do Thee, and that, too, is a part of Thy punishment. Her I do not doubt; Thou? Atrick, a phantom777, a jest. How can I love a jest? And yet, I do. "If I could get the energy together, I'd go for a swimand then make breakfast," he said, desperate for something to say, and felt her smile against his chest.
"Go for the swim part, I'll make the breakfast. And there's no need to put anything on here. No one comes.""Truly paradise!" He swung his legs off the bed, sat up and stretched. "It's a beautiful morning. I wonder ifthat's an omen39."Already the pain of parting; just because he had left the bed; she lay watching him as he walked to the slidingdoors giving onto the beach, stepped outside and paused. He turned, held out his hand. "Come with me? We canget breakfast together."The tide was in, the reef covered, the early sun hot but the restless summer wind cool; coarse grass sent feelersdown onto the crumbling778, unsandlike sand, where crabs694 and insects scuttled779 after pickings. "I feel as if I've neverseen the world before," he said, staring. Meggie clutched at his hand; she felt visited, and found this sunnyaftermath more incomprehensible than the night's dreamy reality. Her eyes rested on him, aching. It was time outof mind, a different world. So she said, "Not this world. How could you? This is our world, for as long as itlasts.""What's Luke like?" he asked, over breakfast. She put her head on one side, considering. "Not as much like youphysically as I used to think, because in those days I missed you more, I hadn't got used to doing without you. Ibelieve I married him because he reminded me of you. At any rate, I had made up my mind to marry someone,and he stood head and shoulders above the rest. I don't mean in worthiness780, or niceness, or any of the thingswomen are supposed to find desirable in a husband. Just in some way I can't put a finger on. Except perhaps thathe is like you. He doesn't need women, either."His face twisted. "Is that how you see me, Meggie?" "Truthfully? I think so. I'll never understand why, but Ithink so. There's something in Luke and in you which believes that needing a woman is a weakness. I don't meanto sleep with; I mean to need, really need." "And accepting that, you can still want us?"She shrugged, smiled with a trace of pity. "Oh, Ralph! I don't say it isn't important, and it's certainly caused mea lot of unhappiness, but it is the way things are. I'd be a fool to waste myself trying to eradicate it, when it can'tbe eradicated781. The best I can do is exploit the weakness, not ignore its existence. Because I want and need, too.
And apparently I want and need people like you and Luke, or I wouldn't have spent myself over the pair of youthe way I have. I'd have married a good, kind, simple man like my father, someone who did want and need me.
But there's a streak of Samson in every man, I think. It's just that in men like you and Luke, it's morepronounced." He didn't seem at all insulted; he was smiling. "My wise Meggie!" "That's not wisdom, Ralph. Justcommon sense. I'm not a very wise person at all, you know that. But look at my brothers. I doubt the older onesat any rate will ever get married, or. have girlfriends even. They're terribly shy, they're frightened of the power awoman might have over them, and they're quite wrapped up in Mum."Day followed day, and night followed night. Even the heavy summer rains were beautiful, to be walked innaked and listened to on the iron roof, as warm and full of caresses782 as the sun. And when the sun was out theywalked too, lazed on the beach, swam; for he was teaching her to swim.
Sometimes when he didn't know he was being watched Meggie would look at him and try desperately toimprint his face upon her brain's core, remembering how in spite of the love she had borne Frank, with thepassing of the years his image had dimmed, the look of him. There were the eyes, the nose, the mouth, thestunning silver wings in that black hair, the long hard body which had kept the slenderness and tautness783 of youth,yet had set a little, lost elasticity784. And he would turn to find her watching him, a look in his eyes of haunted grief,a doomed785 look. She understood the implicit786 message, or thought she did; he must go, back to the Church and hisduties. Never again with the same spirit, perhaps, but more able to serve. For only those who have slipped andfallen know the vicissitudes787 of the way.
One day, when the sun had gone down far enough to bloody the sea and stain the coral sand a hazy788 yellow, heturned to her as they lay on the beach. "Meggie, I've never been so happy, or so unhappy.""I know, Ralph.""I believe you do. Is it why I love you? You're not much out of the ordinary way, Meggie, and yet you aren'tordinary at all. Did I sense it, all those years ago? I must have, I suppose. My passion for titian hair! Little did Iknow where it would lead me. I love you, Meggie.""Are you leaving?""Tomorrow. I must. My ship sails for Genoa in less than a week." "Genoa?""Rome, actually. For a long time, perhaps the rest of my life. I don't know.""Don't worry, Ralph, I'll let you go without any fuss. My time is almost up, too. I'm leaving Luke, I'm goinghome to Drogheda.""Oh, my dear! Not because of this, because of me?" "No, of course not," she lied. "I'd made up my mind beforeyou arrived. Luke doesn't want me or need me, he won't miss me in the slightest. But I need a home, somewhereof my own, and I think now that Drogheda is always going to be that place. It isn't right that poor Justine shouldgrow up in a house where I'm the servant, though I know Anne and Luddie don't think of me like a servant. Butit's how I think of myself, and how Justine will think of me when she's old enough to understand she hasn't anormal sort of home. In a way she never will enjoy that, but I must do as much for her as I can. So I'm goingback to Drogheda.""I'll write to you, Meggie.""No, don't. Do you think I need letters, after this? I don't want anything between us which might endanger you,fall into the hands of unscrupulous people. So no letters. If you're ever in Australia it would be natural andnormal of you to visit Drogheda, though I'm warning you, Ralph, to think before you do. There are only twoplaces in the world where you belong to me ahead of God-here on Matlock, and on Drogheda."He pulled her into his arms and held her, stroking her bright hair. "Meggie, I wish with all my heart I couldmarry you, never be apart from you again. I don't want to leave you .... And in a way I'll never be free of youagain. I wish I hadn't come to Matlock. But we can't change what we are, and perhaps it's just as well. I knowthings about myself I would never have known or faced if I hadn't come. It's better to contend with the knownthan the unknown. I love you. I always have, and I always will. Remember it." The next day Rob appeared forthe first time since he had dropped Ralph, and waited patiently while they said their farewells. Obviously not acouple of newlyweds, for he'd come later than she and was leaving first. Not illicit789 lovers, either. They weremarried; it was written all over them. But they were fond of each other, very fond indeed. Like him and hisMissus; a big difference in age, and that made for a good marriage. "Goodbye, Meggie.""Goodbye, Ralph. Take care of yourself.""I will. And you."He bent to kiss her; in spite of her resolution she clung to him, but when he plucked her hands from around hisneck she put them stiffly behind her and kept them there.
He got into the car and sat while Rob reversed, then stared ahead through the windscreen without once lookingback at her. It was a rare man who could do that, Rob reflected, without ever having heard of Orpheus. Theydrove in silence through the rain forest and came at last to the sea side of Matlock, and the long jetty. As theyshook hands Rob looked into his face, wondering. He had never seen eyes so human, or so sad. The aloofnesshas passed from Archbishop Ralph's gaze forever.
When Meggie came back to Himmelhoch Anne knew at once she would lose her. Yes, it was the same Meggiecomb so much more, somehow. Whatever Archbishop Ralph might have told himself before he went to Matlock,on Matlock things had gone Meggie's way at last, not his. About time, too. She took Justine into her arms as ifshe only now understood what having Justine meant, and stood rocking the little thing while she looked aroundthe room, smiling. Her eyes met Anne's, so alive, so shining with emotion that Anne felt her own eyes fill withreciprocal tears of that same joy. "I can't thank you enough, Anne.""Pish, for what?""For sending Ralph. You must have known it would mean I'd leave Luke, so I thank you just that much more,dear. Oh, you have no idea what it did for me! I had made up my mind I was going to stay with Luke, you know.
Now I'm going back to Drogheda, and I'm never going to leave it again.""I hate to see you go and especially I hate to see Justine go, but I'm glad for both of you, Meggie. Luke willnever give you anything but unhappiness." "Do you know here he is?""Back from the CSR. He's cutting near Ingham,""I'll have to go and see him, tell him. And, much as I loathe445 the idea, sleep with him.""What?"The eyes shone. "I'm two weeks overdue525, and I'm never a day overdue. The only other time I was, Justine wasstarting. I'm pregnant, Anne, I know I am!""My God!" Anne gasped at Meggie as if she had never seen her before; and perhaps she had not. She licked herlips and stammered790, "It could be a false alarm."But Meggie shook her head positively791. "Oh, no. I'm pregnant. There are some things one just knows.""A nice pickle560 if you are," Anne muttered.
"Oh, Anne, don't be blind! Don't you see what this means? I can never have Ralph, I've always known I couldnever have Ralph. But I have, I have!" She laughed, gripping Justine so hard Anne was frightened the babywould scream, but strangely she did not. "I've got the part of Ralph the Church can never have, the part of himwhich carries on from generation to generation. Through me he'll continue to live, because I know it's going tobe a son! And that son will have sons, and they'll have sons-I'll beat God yet. I've loved Ralph since I was tenyears old, and I suppose I'll still be loving him if I live to be a hundred. But he isn't mine, where his child will be.
Mine, Anne, mine!""Oh, Meggie!" Anne said helplessly.
The passion died, the exhilaration; she became once more familiar Meggie, quiet and sweet but with the faintthread of iron, the capacity to bear much. Only now Anne trod carefully, wondering just what she had done insending Ralph de Bricassart to Matlock Island. Was it possible for anyone to change this much? Anne didn'tthink so. It must have been there all the time, so well hidden its presence was rarely suspected. There was farmore than a faint thread of iron in Meggie; she was solid steel. "Meggie, if you love me at all, please remembersomething for me?"The grey eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'll try!" "I've picked up most of Luddie's tomes over the years, whenI've run out of my own books. Especially the ones with the ancient Greek stories, because they fascinate me.
They say the Greeks have a word for everything, and that there's no human situation the Greeks didn't describe.""I know. I've read some of Luddie's books, too.""Then don't you remember? The Greeks say it's a sin against the gods to love something beyond all reason. Anddo you remember that they say when someone is loved so, the Gods become jealous, and strike the object downin the very fullness of its flower? There's a lesson in it, Meggie. It's profane792 to love too much.""Profane, Anne, that's the key word! I shan't love Ralph's baby profanely793, but with the purity of the BlessedMother herself."Anne's brown eyes were very sad. "Ah, but did she love purely? The object of her love was struck down in thevery fullness of His flower, wasn't He?" Meggie put Justine in her cot. "What must be, must be. Ralph I can'thave, his baby I can. I feel . . . oh, as if there's a purpose to my life after all! That's been the worst thing aboutthese three and a half years, Anne. I was beginning to think there was no purpose to my life." She smiled briskly,decisively. "I'm going to protect this child in every way I can, no matter what the cost to myself. And the firstthing is that no one, including Luke, shall ever imply it has no right to the only name I'm at liberty to give it. Thevery thought of sleeping with Luke makes me ill, but I'll do it. I'd sleep with the Devil himself if it could helpthis baby's future. Then I'm going home to Drogheda, and I hope I never see Luke again." She turned from thecot. "Will you and Luddie come to see us? Drogheda always has room for friends.""Once a year, for as many years as you'll have us. Luddie and I want to see Justine grow up."Only the thought of Ralph's baby kept Meggie's sagging courage up as the little rail motor rocked and jolted794 thelong miles to Ingham. Had it not been for the new life she was sure was growing in her, getting into a bed withLuke ever again would have been the ultimate sin against herself; but for Ralph's baby she would indeed haveentered into a contract with the Devil. From a practical viewpoint it wasn't going to be easy either, she knew that.
But she had laid her plans with what foresight795 she could, and with Luddie's aid, oddly enough. It hadn't beenpossible to conceal572 much from him; he was too shrewd, and too deeply in Anne's confidence. He had looked atMeggie sadly, shaken his head, and then proceeded to give her some excellent advice. The actual aim of hermission hadn't been mentioned, of course, but I was as adept796 at adding two and two as most people who readmassive tomes.
"You won't want to have to tell Luke you're leaving him when he's worn out after the cane," said Luddiedelicately. "Much better if you catch him in a good mood, isn't it? Best thing is, see him on a Saturday night or aSunday after it's been his week cooking. The grapevine says Luke's the best cook on the cutting circuit learned tocook when he was low man on the shearing totem pole, and shearers are much fussier797 eaters than cutters. Meanscooking doesn't upset him, you know. Probably finds it as easy as falling off a log. That's the speed, then,Meggie. You slap the news on him when he's feeling real good after a week in the barracks kitchen."It seemed to Meggie lately that she had gone a long way from blushing days; she looked at Luddie steadilywithout going the least bit pink. "Could you find out which week Luke cooks, Luddie? Or is there any way Icould find out, if you can't?""Oh, she's apples," he said cheerfully. "I've got my branches on the old grapevine. I'll find out."It was mid Saturday afternoon when Meggie checked into the Ingham pub that looked the most respectable. AllNorth Queensland towns were famous for one thing: they had pubs on all four corners of every block. She puther small case in her room, then made her way back to the unlovely foyer to find a telephone. There was a RugbyLeague football team in town for a preseason training match, and the corridors were full of half-naked, whollydrunk players who greeted her appearance with cheers and affectionate pats on the back and behind. By the timeshe got the use of the phone she was shaking with fright; everything about this venture seemed to be an ordeal.
But through the din and the looming798 drunken faces she managed to call Braun's, the farm where Luke's gang wascutting, and ask that a message be relayed to him that his wife was in Ingham, wanting to see him. Seeing herfear, the publican walked back to her room with her, and waited until he heard her turn the key.
Meggie leaned against the door, limp with relief; if it meant she didn't eat again until she was back in Dunny,she wasn't venturing to the dining room. Luckily the publican had put her right next to the women's bathroom, soshe ought to be able to make that journey when necessary. The moment she thought her legs would hold her upshe wobbled to the bed and sat on it, her head bowed, looking at her quivering hands.
All the way down she had thought about the best way of going about it, and everything in her cried, Quickly,quickly! Until coming to live at Himmelhoch she had never read a description of a seduction, and even now,armed with several such recountings, she wasn't confident of her ability to go about one herself. But that waswhat she had to do, for she knew once she started to talk to Luke it would be all over. Her tongue itched to tellhim what she really thought of him. But more than that, the desire to be back on Drogheda with Ralph's babymade safe consumed her.
Shivering in the sultry sugary air she took off her clothes and lay down on the bed, eyes closed, willing herselfnot to think beyond the expediency of making Ralph's baby safe. The footballers didn't worry Luke at all whenhe entered the pub alone at nine o'clock; by then most of them were insensible, and the few still on their feetwere too far gone to notice anything farther away than their beer glasses.
Luddie had been exactly right; at the end of his week's stint181 as cook Luke was rested, eager for a change andoozing goodwill799. When Braun's young son had brought Meggie's message down to the barracks he was justwashing the last of the supper dishes and planning to cycle into Ingham, join Arne and the blokes on theircustomary Saturday-night binge. The prospect of Meggie was a very agreeable alternative; ever since thatholiday on the Atherton he had found himself wanting her occasionally in spite of his physical exhaustion. Onlyhis horror of starting her off on the let's-settle-down-in- our-own-home cry had kept him away from Himmelhochwhenever he was near Dunny. But now she had come to him, and he was not at all averse112 to a night in bed. So hefinished the dishes in a hurry, and was lucky enough to be picked up by a truck after he had pedaled a scant800 halfmile. But as he walked his bike the three blocks from where his ride had dropped him to the pub where Meggiewas staying, some of his anticipation801 flattened802. All the chemist shops were closed, and he didn't have any Frenchletters. He stopped, stared in a window full of moth-eaten, heat-stippled chocolates and dead blowflies, thenshrugged. Well, he'd just have to take his chances. It would only be tonight, and if there was a baby, with anyluck it would be a boy this time. Meggie jumped nervously803 when she heard his knock, got off the bed and paddedover to the door.
"Who is it?" she called.
"Luke," came his voice.
She turned the key, opened the door a tiny way, and stepped behind it as Luke pushed it wider. The moment hewas inside she slammed it shut, and stood looking at him. He looked at her; at the breasts which were bigger,rounder, more enticing804 than ever, the nipples no longer pale pink but a rich dark red from the baby. If he hadbeen in need of stimuli805 they were more than adequate; he reached out to pick her up, and carried her to the bed.
By daylight she still hadn't spoken a word, though her touch had welcomed him to a pitch of fevered want hehad never before experienced. Now she lay moved away from him, and curiously divorced from him. Hestretched luxuriously806, yawned, cleared his throat. "What brings you down to Ingham, Meg?" he asked.
Her head turned; she regarded him with wide, contemptuous eyes. "Well, what brings you here?" he repeated,nettled. No reply, only the same steady, stinging gaze, as if she couldn't be bothered answering. Which wasridiculous, after the night. Her lips opened; she smiled. "I came to tell you I'm going home to Drogheda," shesaid.
For a moment he didn't believe her, then he looked at her face more closely and saw she meant it, all right.
"Why?" he asked. "I told you what would happen if you didn't take me to Sydney," she said. His astonishmentwas absolutely genuine. "But, Meg! That's flaming eighteen months ago! And I gave you a holiday! Four bloodyexpensive weeks on the Atherton! I couldn't afford to take you to Sydney on top of that!" "You've been toSydney twice since then, both times without me," she said stubbornly. "I can understand the first time, since Iwas expecting Justine, but heaven knows I could have done with a holiday away from The Wet this last January.""Oh, Christ!""What a skinflint you are, Luke," she went on gently. "Twenty thousand pounds you've had from me, moneythat's rightfully mine, and yet you begrudge807 the few measly pounds it would have cost you to take me to Sydney.
You and your money! You make me sick.""I haven't touched it," he said feebly. "It's there, every penny of it, and more besides.""Yes, that's right. Sitting in the bank, where it always will. You haven't any intention of spending it, have you?
You want to adore it, like a golden calf808. Admit it, Luke, you're a miser524. And what an unforgivable idiot you areinto the bargain! To treat your wife and daughter the way you wouldn't dream of treating a pair of dogs, to ignoretheir existences, let alone their needs! You complacent809, conceited, self-centered bastard!" White-faced,trembling, he searched for speech; to have Meg turn on him, especially after the night, was like being bitten todeath by a butterfly. The injustice810 of her accusations811 appalled812 him, but there didn't seem to be any way he couldmake her understand the purity of his motives813. Womanlike, she saw only the obvious; she just couldn't appreciatethe grand design at back of it all.
So he said, "Oh, Meg!" in tones of bewilderment, despair, resignation. "I've never ill-treated you," he added.
"No, I definitely haven't! There's no one could say I was cruel to you. No one! You've had enough to eat, a roofover your head, you've been warm-was"Oh, yes," she interrupted.. "That's one thing I'll grant you. I've never been warmer in my life." She shook herhead, laughed. "What's the use? It's like talking to a brick wall.""I might say the same!""By all means do," said Meggie icily, getting off the bed and slipping on her panties. "I'm not going to divorceyou," she said. "I don't want to marry again. If you want a divorce, you know where to find me. Technicallyspeaking, I'm the one at fault, aren't I? I'm deserting you-or at least that's the way the courts in this country willsee it. You and the judge can cry on each other's shoulders about the perfidies814 and ingratitude815 of women.""I never deserted you," he maintained.
"You can keep my twenty thousand pounds, Luke. But not another penny do you ever get from me. My futureincome I'm going to use to support Justine, and perhaps another child if I'm lucky.""So that's it!" he said. "All you were after was another bloody baby, wasn't it? That's why you came down here-a swan song, a little present from me for you to take back to Drogheda with you! Another bloody baby, not me!
It never was me, was it? To you I'm just a breeder! Christ, what a have!" "That's all most men are to mostwomen," she said maliciously. "You bring out the worst in me, Luke, in more ways than you'll ever understand.
Be of good cheer! I've earned you more money in the last three and a half years than the sugar has. If there isanother child, it's none of your concern. As of this minute I never want to see you again, not as long as I live."She was into her clothes. As she picked up her handbag and the little case by the door she turned back, her handon the knob. "Let me give you a little word of advice, Luke. In case you ever get yourself another woman, whenyou're too old and too tired to give yourself to the cane any more. You can't kiss for toffee. You open your mouthtoo wide, you swallow a woman whole like a python. Saliva's fine, but not a deluge477 of it." She wiped her handviciously across her mouth. "You make me want to be sick! Luke O'neill, the great I-am! You're a nothing!"After she had gone he sat on the edge of the bed staring at the closed door for a long while. Then he shruggedand started to dress. Not a long procedure, in North Queensland. Just a pair of shorts. If he hurried he could get aride back to the barracks with Arne and the blokes. Good old Arne. Dear old mate. A man was a fool. Sex wasone thing, but a man's mates were quite another.
点击收听单词发音
1 poking | |
n. 刺,戳,袋 vt. 拨开,刺,戳 vi. 戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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2 morass | |
n.沼泽,困境 | |
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3 hem | |
n.贴边,镶边;vt.缝贴边;(in)包围,限制 | |
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4 streak | |
n.条理,斑纹,倾向,少许,痕迹;v.加条纹,变成条纹,奔驰,快速移动 | |
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5 regenerate | |
vt.使恢复,使新生;vi.恢复,再生;adj.恢复的 | |
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6 disintegrating | |
v.(使)破裂[分裂,粉碎],(使)崩溃( disintegrate的现在分词 ) | |
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7 subsiding | |
v.(土地)下陷(因在地下采矿)( subside的现在分词 );减弱;下降至较低或正常水平;一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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8 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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9 hoofs | |
n.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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10 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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11 par | |
n.标准,票面价值,平均数量;adj.票面的,平常的,标准的 | |
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12 lore | |
n.传说;学问,经验,知识 | |
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13 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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14 bagatelle | |
n.琐事;小曲儿 | |
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15 tally | |
n.计数器,记分,一致,测量;vt.计算,记录,使一致;vi.计算,记分,一致 | |
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16 malignity | |
n.极度的恶意,恶毒;(病的)恶性 | |
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17 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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18 tar | |
n.柏油,焦油;vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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19 withered | |
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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20 wither | |
vt.使凋谢,使衰退,(用眼神气势等)使畏缩;vi.枯萎,衰退,消亡 | |
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21 rejuvenation | |
n. 复原,再生, 更新, 嫩化, 恢复 | |
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22 smother | |
vt./vi.使窒息;抑制;闷死;n.浓烟;窒息 | |
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23 smothered | |
(使)窒息, (使)透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 ); 覆盖; 忍住; 抑制 | |
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24 moth | |
n.蛾,蛀虫 | |
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25 sere | |
adj.干枯的;n.演替系列 | |
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26 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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27 scentless | |
adj.无气味的,遗臭已消失的 | |
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28 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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29 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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30 mustering | |
v.集合,召集,集结(尤指部队)( muster的现在分词 );(自他人处)搜集某事物;聚集;激发 | |
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31 shear | |
n.修剪,剪下的东西,羊的一岁;vt.剪掉,割,剥夺;vi.修剪,切割,剥夺,穿越 | |
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32 shearing | |
n.剪羊毛,剪取的羊毛v.剪羊毛( shear的现在分词 );切断;剪切 | |
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33 chronically | |
ad.长期地 | |
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34 creek | |
n.小溪,小河,小湾 | |
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35 reek | |
v.发出臭气;n.恶臭 | |
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36 proprietary | |
n.所有权,所有的;独占的;业主 | |
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37 ken | |
n.视野,知识领域 | |
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38 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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39 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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40 remonstrated | |
v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 );告诫 | |
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41 curt | |
adj.简短的,草率的 | |
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42 spat | |
n.口角,掌击;v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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43 spates | |
n.大量( spate的名词复数 );(河流)暴涨;发洪水;(人)口若悬河 | |
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44 spate | |
n.泛滥,洪水,突然的一阵 | |
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45 protracted | |
adj.拖延的;延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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46 tapered | |
adj. 锥形的,尖削的,楔形的,渐缩的,斜的 动词taper的过去式和过去分词 | |
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47 ramp | |
n.暴怒,斜坡,坡道;vi.作恐吓姿势,暴怒,加速;vt.加速 | |
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48 pneumonia | |
n.肺炎 | |
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49 shearer | |
n.剪羊毛的人;剪切机 | |
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50 pokes | |
v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 );戳出;拨弄;与(某人)性交 | |
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51 ointment | |
n.药膏,油膏,软膏 | |
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52 smitten | |
猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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53 eligible | |
adj.有条件被选中的;(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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54 decency | |
n.体面,得体,合宜,正派,庄重 | |
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55 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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56 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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57 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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58 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
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59 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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60 soften | |
v.(使)变柔软;(使)变柔和 | |
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61 freckled | |
adj.雀斑;斑点;晒斑;(使)生雀斑v.雀斑,斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62 tranquil | |
adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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63 creases | |
(使…)起折痕,弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 ); (皮肤)皱起,使起皱纹 | |
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64 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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65 elongated | |
v.延长,加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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67 vowing | |
起誓,发誓(vow的现在分词形式) | |
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68 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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69 gall | |
v.使烦恼,使焦躁,难堪;n.磨难 | |
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70 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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71 splendor | |
n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
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72 awed | |
adj.充满敬畏的,表示敬畏的v.使敬畏,使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73 junction | |
n.连接,接合;交叉点,接合处,枢纽站 | |
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74 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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75 bunk | |
n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位;废话 | |
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76 chestnut | |
n.栗树,栗子 | |
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77 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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78 flaring | |
a.火焰摇曳的,过份艳丽的 | |
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79 Ford | |
n.浅滩,水浅可涉处;v.涉水,涉过 | |
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80 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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81 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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82 flannel | |
n.法兰绒;法兰绒衣服 | |
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83 converged | |
v.(线条、运动的物体等)会于一点( converge的过去式 );(趋于)相似或相同;人或车辆汇集;聚集 | |
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84 doffing | |
n.下筒,落纱v.脱去,(尤指)脱帽( doff的现在分词 ) | |
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85 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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86 guise | |
n.外表,伪装的姿态 | |
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87 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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88 unaware | |
a.不知道的,未意识到的 | |
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89 liar | |
n.说谎的人 | |
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90 unfamiliar | |
adj.陌生的,不熟悉的 | |
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91 detest | |
vt.痛恨,憎恶 | |
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92 submission | |
n.服从,投降;温顺,谦虚;提出 | |
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93 hips | |
abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯,耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 );[建筑学]屋脊;臀围(尺寸);臀部…的 | |
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94 hip | |
n.臀部,髋;屋脊 | |
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95 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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96 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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97 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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98 rim | |
n.(圆物的)边,轮缘;边界 | |
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99 succumbing | |
不再抵抗(诱惑、疾病、攻击等)( succumb的现在分词 ); 屈从; 被压垮; 死 | |
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100 iris | |
n.虹膜,彩虹 | |
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101 clan | |
n.氏族,部落,宗族,家族,宗派 | |
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102 militant | |
adj.激进的,好斗的;n.激进分子,斗士 | |
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103 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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104 squatter | |
n.擅自占地者 | |
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105 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106 exasperated | |
adj.恼怒的 | |
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107 triumphantly | |
ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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108 eluding | |
v.(尤指机敏地)避开( elude的现在分词 );逃避;躲避;使达不到 | |
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109 antennae | |
n.天线;触角 | |
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110 complexity | |
n.复杂(性),复杂的事物 | |
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111 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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112 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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113 horrified | |
a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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114 lone | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
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115 desecration | |
n. 亵渎神圣, 污辱 | |
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116 humiliation | |
n.羞辱 | |
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117 plod | |
v.沉重缓慢地走,孜孜地工作 | |
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118 automaton | |
n.自动机器,机器人 | |
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119 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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120 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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121 inclinations | |
倾向( inclination的名词复数 ); 倾斜; 爱好; 斜坡 | |
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122 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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123 dwellers | |
n.居民,居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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124 apprentices | |
学徒,徒弟( apprentice的名词复数 ) | |
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125 fiddle | |
n.小提琴;vi.拉提琴;不停拨弄,乱动 | |
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126 accordion | |
n.手风琴;adj.可折叠的 | |
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127 pendulous | |
adj.下垂的;摆动的 | |
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128 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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129 tempo | |
n.(音乐的)速度;节奏,行进速度 | |
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130 jigs | |
n.快步舞(曲)极快地( jig的名词复数 );夹具v.(使)上下急动( jig的第三人称单数 ) | |
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131 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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132 swirling | |
v.旋转,打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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133 swirl | |
v.(使)打漩,(使)涡卷;n.漩涡,螺旋形 | |
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134 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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135 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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136 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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137 frustration | |
n.挫折,失败,失效,落空 | |
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138 frustrations | |
挫折( frustration的名词复数 ); 失败; 挫败; 失意 | |
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139 intrigues | |
n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 );神秘气氛;引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 );激起…的好奇心 | |
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140 bustle | |
v.喧扰地忙乱,匆忙,奔忙;n.忙碌;喧闹 | |
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141 languishing | |
a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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142 blatantly | |
ad.公开地 | |
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143 whatsoever | |
adv.(用于否定句中以加强语气)任何;pron.无论什么 | |
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144 disapproval | |
n.反对,不赞成 | |
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145 thighs | |
n.股,大腿( thigh的名词复数 );食用的鸡(等的)腿 | |
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146 discrete | |
adj.个别的,分离的,不连续的 | |
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147 bumpy | |
adj.颠簸不平的,崎岖的 | |
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148 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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149 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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150 frivolous | |
adj.轻薄的;轻率的 | |
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151 uneven | |
adj.不平坦的,不规则的,不均匀的 | |
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152 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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153 shimmering | |
v.闪闪发光,发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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154 shimmer | |
v./n.发微光,发闪光;微光 | |
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155 rippling | |
起涟漪的,潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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156 glossy | |
adj.平滑的;有光泽的 | |
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157 pinpoint | |
vt.准确地确定;用针标出…的精确位置 | |
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158 pinpoints | |
准确地找出或描述( pinpoint的第三人称单数 ); 为…准确定位 | |
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159 Flared | |
adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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160 spotlight | |
n.公众注意的中心,聚光灯,探照灯,视听,注意,醒目 | |
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161 hissing | |
n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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162 fragrant | |
adj.芬香的,馥郁的,愉快的 | |
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163 pouch | |
n.小袋,小包,囊状袋;vt.装...入袋中,用袋运输;vi.用袋送信件 | |
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164 strands | |
n.(线、绳、金属线、毛发等的)股( strand的名词复数 );缕;海洋、湖或河的)岸;(观点、计划、故事等的)部份v.使滞留,使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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165 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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166 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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167 forefinger | |
n.食指 | |
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168 poked | |
v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 );戳出;拨弄;与(某人)性交 | |
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169 irate | |
adj.发怒的,生气 | |
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170 sputtered | |
v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 );发劈啪声;喷出;飞溅出 | |
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171 vista | |
n.远景,深景,展望,回想 | |
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172 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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173 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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174 disparagingly | |
adv.以贬抑的口吻,以轻视的态度 | |
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175 savor | |
vt.品尝,欣赏;n.味道,风味;情趣,趣味 | |
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176 rankled | |
v.(使)痛苦不已,(使)怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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177 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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178 itched | |
v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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179 twitched | |
vt.& vi.(使)抽动,(使)颤动(twitch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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180 inveterate | |
adj.积习已深的,根深蒂固的 | |
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181 stint | |
v.节省,限制,停止;n.舍不得化,节约,限制;连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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182 deflecting | |
(使)偏斜, (使)偏离, (使)转向( deflect的现在分词 ) | |
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183 impersonal | |
adj.无个人感情的,与个人无关的,非人称的 | |
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184 conceited | |
adj.自负的,骄傲自满的 | |
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185 shanty | |
n.小屋,棚屋;船工号子 | |
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186 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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187 aristocrat | |
n.贵族,有贵族气派的人,上层人物 | |
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188 tamp | |
v.捣实,砸实 | |
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189 coordination | |
n.协调,协作 | |
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190 lizard | |
n.蜥蜴,壁虎 | |
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191 tormenting | |
使痛苦的,使苦恼的 | |
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192 hordes | |
n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 );部落 | |
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193 cane | |
n.手杖,细长的茎,藤条;v.以杖击,以藤编制的 | |
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194 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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195 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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196 dwindling | |
adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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197 nun | |
n.修女,尼姑 | |
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198 cramped | |
a.狭窄的 | |
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199 yearned | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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200 yearn | |
v.想念;怀念;渴望 | |
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201 infinity | |
n.无限,无穷,大量 | |
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202 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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203 eastward | |
adv.向东;adj.向东的;n.东方,东部 | |
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204 doting | |
adj.溺爱的,宠爱的 | |
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205 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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206 naive | |
adj.幼稚的,轻信的;天真的 | |
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207 crunch | |
n.关键时刻;艰难局面;v.发出碎裂声 | |
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208 impersonally | |
ad.非人称地 | |
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209 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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210 massage | |
n.按摩,揉;vt.按摩,揉,美化,奉承,篡改数据 | |
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211 acquiescence | |
n.默许;顺从 | |
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212 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
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213 nauseating | |
adj.令人恶心的,使人厌恶的v.使恶心,作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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214 writhe | |
vt.挣扎,痛苦地扭曲;vi.扭曲,翻腾,受苦;n.翻腾,苦恼 | |
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215 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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216 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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217 loath | |
adj.不愿意的;勉强的 | |
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218 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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219 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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220 slumped | |
大幅度下降,暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 ); 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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221 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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222 flicker | |
vi./n.闪烁,摇曳,闪现 | |
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223 equating | |
v.认为某事物(与另一事物)相等或相仿( equate的现在分词 );相当于;等于;把(一事物) 和(另一事物)等同看待 | |
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224 territorial | |
adj.领土的,领地的 | |
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225 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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226 jaunts | |
n.游览( jaunt的名词复数 ) | |
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227 attentive | |
adj.注意的,专心的;关心(别人)的,殷勤的 | |
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228 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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229 flirted | |
v.调情,打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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230 ballroom | |
n.舞厅 | |
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231 puddle | |
n.(雨)水坑,泥潭 | |
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232 champagne | |
n.香槟酒;微黄色 | |
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233 spectrum | |
n.谱,光谱,频谱;范围,幅度,系列 | |
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234 indigo | |
n.靛青,靛蓝 | |
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235 tawny | |
adj.茶色的,黄褐色的;n.黄褐色 | |
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236 opaque | |
adj.不透光的;不反光的,不传导的;晦涩的 | |
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237 lashes | |
n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 );鞭子;突然猛烈的一击;急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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238 dressing | |
n.(食物)调料;包扎伤口的用品,敷料 | |
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239 tickling | |
反馈,回授,自旋挠痒法 | |
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240 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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241 vents | |
(气体、液体等进出的)孔、口( vent的名词复数 ); (鸟、鱼、爬行动物或小哺乳动物的)肛门; 大衣等的)衩口; 开衩 | |
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242 lulling | |
vt.使镇静,使安静(lull的现在分词形式) | |
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243 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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244 jigsaw | |
n.缕花锯,竖锯,拼图游戏;vt.用竖锯锯,使互相交错搭接 | |
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245 straps | |
n.带子( strap的名词复数 );挎带;肩带;背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 );用皮带抽打;包扎;给…打绷带 | |
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246 taut | |
adj.拉紧的,绷紧的,紧张的 | |
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247 agonized | |
v.使(极度)痛苦,折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 );苦斗;苦苦思索;感到极度痛苦 | |
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248 shuddered | |
v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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249 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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250 wrenching | |
n.修截苗根,苗木铲根(铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土)v.(猛力地)扭( wrench的现在分词 );扭伤;使感到痛苦;使悲痛 | |
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251 drenching | |
n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 );在某人(某物)上大量使用(某液体) | |
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252 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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253 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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254 deftly | |
adv.灵巧地,熟练地,敏捷地 | |
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255 dent | |
n.凹痕,凹坑;初步进展 | |
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256 electrifying | |
v.使电气化( electrify的现在分词 );使兴奋 | |
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257 tugging | |
n.牵引感v.用力拉,使劲拉,猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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258 lulled | |
vt.使镇静,使安静(lull的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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259 gulping | |
v.狼吞虎咽地吃,吞咽( gulp的现在分词 );大口地吸(气);哽住 | |
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260 commonsense | |
adj.有常识的;明白事理的;注重实际的 | |
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261 rammed | |
v.夯实(土等)( ram的过去式和过去分词 );猛撞;猛压;反复灌输 | |
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262 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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263 adamant | |
adj.坚硬的,固执的 | |
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264 hysterical | |
adj.情绪异常激动的,歇斯底里般的 | |
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265 rejection | |
n.拒绝,被拒,抛弃,被弃 | |
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266 ledgers | |
n.分类账( ledger的名词复数 ) | |
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267 ledge | |
n.壁架,架状突出物;岩架,岩礁 | |
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268 rigidly | |
adv.刻板地,僵化地 | |
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269 barometer | |
n.气压表,睛雨表,反应指标 | |
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270 platinum | |
n.白金 | |
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271 seethe | |
vi.拥挤,云集;发怒,激动,骚动 | |
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272 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
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273 insistence | |
n.坚持;强调;坚决主张 | |
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274 cymbals | |
pl.铙钹 | |
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275 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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276 outfit | |
n.(为特殊用途的)全套装备,全套服装 | |
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277 honeymoon | |
n.蜜月(假期);vi.度蜜月 | |
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278 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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279 droop | |
v.低垂,下垂;凋萎,萎靡 | |
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280 tractable | |
adj.易驾驭的;温顺的 | |
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281 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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282 guile | |
n.诈术 | |
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283 wry | |
adj.讽刺的;扭曲的 | |
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284 chattels | |
n.动产,奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
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285 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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286 deferred | |
adj.延期的,缓召的v.拖延,延缓,推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 );服从某人的意愿,遵从 | |
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287 oversight | |
n.勘漏,失察,疏忽 | |
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288 scotch | |
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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289 scotched | |
v.阻止( scotch的过去式和过去分词 );制止(车轮)转动;弄伤;镇压 | |
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290 mid | |
adj.中央的,中间的 | |
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291 conversion | |
n.转化,转换,转变 | |
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292 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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293 housekeeper | |
n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
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294 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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295 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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296 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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297 secular | |
n.牧师,凡人;adj.世俗的,现世的,不朽的 | |
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298 nuptial | |
adj.婚姻的,婚礼的 | |
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299 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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300 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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301 erratic | |
adj.古怪的,反复无常的,不稳定的 | |
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302 brewing | |
n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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303 slake | |
v.解渴,使平息 | |
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304 trek | |
vi.作长途艰辛的旅行;n.长途艰苦的旅行 | |
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305 compartment | |
n.卧车包房,隔间;分隔的空间 | |
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306 astounded | |
v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词);愕然;愕;惊讶 | |
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307 sleeper | |
n.睡眠者,卧车,卧铺 | |
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308 lookout | |
n.注意,前途,瞭望台 | |
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309 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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310 indignity | |
n.侮辱,伤害尊严,轻蔑 | |
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311 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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312 densely | |
ad.密集地;浓厚地 | |
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313 filthy | |
adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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314 filth | |
n.肮脏,污物,污秽;淫猥 | |
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315 soot | |
n.煤烟,烟尘;vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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316 vapor | |
n.蒸汽,雾气 | |
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317 galling | |
adj.难堪的,使烦恼的,使焦躁的 | |
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318 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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319 yarning | |
vi.讲故事(yarn的现在分词形式) | |
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320 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
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321 coastal | |
adj.海岸的,沿海的,沿岸的 | |
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322 greasy | |
adj. 多脂的,油脂的 | |
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323 tartly | |
adv.辛辣地,刻薄地 | |
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324 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
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325 overflowing | |
n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的,充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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326 collapsing | |
压扁[平],毁坏,断裂 | |
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327 monotonously | |
adv.单调地,无变化地 | |
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328 contrition | |
n.悔罪,痛悔 | |
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329 fins | |
[医]散热片;鱼鳍;飞边;鸭掌 | |
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330 fowls | |
鸟( fowl的名词复数 ); 禽肉; 既不是这; 非驴非马 | |
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331 bowels | |
n.肠,内脏,内部;肠( bowel的名词复数 );内部,最深处 | |
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332 rumor | |
n.谣言,谣传,传说 | |
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333 trots | |
小跑,急走( trot的名词复数 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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334 dispensed | |
v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 );施与;配(药) | |
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335 dispense | |
vt.分配,分发;配(药),发(药);实施 | |
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336 sprawled | |
v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词);蔓延;杂乱无序地拓展;四肢伸展坐着(或躺着) | |
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337 sprouted | |
v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 );抽芽;出现;(使)涌现出 | |
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338 casually | |
adv.漠不关心地,无动于衷地,不负责任地 | |
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339 hectic | |
adj.肺病的;消耗热的;发热的;闹哄哄的 | |
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340 coconut | |
n.椰子 | |
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341 fronds | |
n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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342 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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343 termites | |
n.白蚁( termite的名词复数 ) | |
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344 mite | |
n.极小的东西;小铜币 | |
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345 improperly | |
不正确地,不适当地 | |
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346 athletic | |
adj.擅长运动的,强健的;活跃的,体格健壮的 | |
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347 sloppy | |
adj.邋遢的,不整洁的 | |
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348 civilized | |
a.有教养的,文雅的 | |
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349 brazen | |
adj.厚脸皮的,无耻的,坚硬的 | |
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350 seasonal | |
adj.季节的,季节性的 | |
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351 monsoon | |
n.季雨,季风,大雨 | |
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352 monsoons | |
n.(南亚、尤指印度洋的)季风( monsoon的名词复数 );(与季风相伴的)雨季;(南亚地区的)雨季 | |
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353 treacle | |
n.糖蜜 | |
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354 tugged | |
v.用力拉,使劲拉,猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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355 pajamas | |
n.睡衣裤 | |
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356 fumbling | |
n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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357 wriggle | |
v./n.蠕动,扭动;蜿蜒 | |
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358 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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359 insistently | |
ad.坚持地 | |
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360 awareness | |
n.意识,觉悟,懂事,明智 | |
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361 fumble | |
vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等,摸索 | |
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362 twitching | |
n.颤搐 | |
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363 spasm | |
n.痉挛,抽搐;一阵发作 | |
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364 exhaustion | |
n.耗尽枯竭,疲惫,筋疲力尽,竭尽,详尽无遗的论述 | |
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365 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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366 groaned | |
v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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367 scrap | |
n.碎片;废料;v.废弃,报废 | |
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368 gasping | |
adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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369 snarl | |
v.吼叫,怒骂,纠缠,混乱;n.混乱,缠结,咆哮 | |
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370 entity | |
n.实体,独立存在体,实际存在物 | |
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371 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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372 eluded | |
v.(尤指机敏地)避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 );逃避;躲避;使达不到 | |
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373 flopped | |
v.(指书、戏剧等)彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 );(因疲惫而)猛然坐下;(笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地)移动或落下;砸锅 | |
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374 wincing | |
赶紧避开,畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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375 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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376 repulsive | |
adj.排斥的,使人反感的 | |
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377 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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378 speculatively | |
adv.思考地,思索地;投机地 | |
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379 culminate | |
v.到绝顶,达于极点,达到高潮 | |
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380 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
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381 pampered | |
adj.饮食过量的,饮食奢侈的v.纵容,宠,娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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382 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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383 raved | |
v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 );愤怒地说;咆哮;痴心地说 | |
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384 nutrients | |
n.(食品或化学品)营养物,营养品( nutrient的名词复数 ) | |
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385 ironic | |
adj.讽刺的,有讽刺意味的,出乎意料的 | |
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386 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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387 monsoonal | |
季风的 | |
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388 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
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389 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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390 wilting | |
萎蔫 | |
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391 baron | |
n.男爵;(商业界等)巨头,大王 | |
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392 veranda | |
n.走廊;阳台 | |
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393 austerely | |
adv.严格地,朴质地 | |
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394 fabric | |
n.织物,织品,布;构造,结构,组织 | |
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395 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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396 attenuated | |
v.(使)变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)变薄;(使)变小;减弱 | |
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397 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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398 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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399 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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400 encompass | |
vt.围绕,包围;包含,包括;完成 | |
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401 plumed | |
饰有羽毛的 | |
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402 interspersed | |
adj.[医]散开的;点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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403 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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404 cone | |
n.圆锥体,圆锥形东西,球果 | |
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405 denser | |
adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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406 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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407 isolated | |
adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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408 unbearably | |
adv.不能忍受地,无法容忍地;慌 | |
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409 tangible | |
adj.有形的,可触摸的,确凿的,实际的 | |
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410 syrup | |
n.糖浆,糖水 | |
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411 glucose | |
n.葡萄糖 | |
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412 thatch | |
vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部;n.茅草(屋) | |
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413 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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414 wheezing | |
v.喘息,发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 );哮鸣 | |
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415 woolen | |
adj.羊毛(制)的;毛纺的 | |
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416 toiling | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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417 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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418 streaks | |
n.(与周围有所不同的)条纹( streak的名词复数 );(通常指不好的)特征(倾向);(不断经历成功或失败的)一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 );使布满条纹 | |
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419 tapering | |
adj.尖端细的 | |
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420 demonstration | |
n.表明,示范,论证,示威 | |
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421 hack | |
n.劈,砍,出租马车;v.劈,砍,干咳 | |
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422 whack | |
v.敲击,重打,瓜分;n.重击,重打,尝试,一份 | |
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423 cockroaches | |
n.蟑螂( cockroach的名词复数 ) | |
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424 toads | |
n.蟾蜍,癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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425 wasps | |
黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 ); 胡蜂; 易动怒的人; 刻毒的人 | |
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426 charred | |
v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式);烧焦 | |
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427 depredations | |
n.劫掠,毁坏( depredation的名词复数 ) | |
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428 thumping | |
adj.重大的,巨大的;重击的;尺码大的;极好的adv.极端地;非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词);狠打;怦怦地跳;全力支持 | |
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429 communal | |
adj.公有的,公共的,公社的,公社制的 | |
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430 ravenous | |
adj.极饿的,贪婪的 | |
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431 corrugated | |
adj.波纹的;缩成皱纹的;波纹面的;波纹状的v.(使某物)起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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432 originality | |
n.创造力,独创性;新颖 | |
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433 blisters | |
n.水疱( blister的名词复数 );水肿;气泡 | |
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434 allotted | |
分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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435 suffocating | |
a.使人窒息的 | |
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436 attain | |
vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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437 partnership | |
n.合作关系,伙伴关系 | |
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438 hummingbirds | |
n.蜂鸟( hummingbird的名词复数 ) | |
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439 evoking | |
产生,引起,唤起( evoke的现在分词 ) | |
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440 elite | |
n.精英阶层;实力集团;adj.杰出的,卓越的 | |
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441 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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442 purgatory | |
n.炼狱;苦难;adj.净化的,清洗的 | |
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443 animation | |
n.活泼,兴奋,卡通片/动画片的制作 | |
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444 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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445 loathe | |
v.厌恶,嫌恶 | |
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446 loathed | |
v.憎恨,厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 );极不喜欢 | |
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447 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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448 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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449 incongruity | |
n.不协调,不一致 | |
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450 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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451 inhuman | |
adj.残忍的,不人道的,无人性的 | |
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452 effigy | |
n.肖像 | |
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453 smacking | |
活泼的,发出响声的,精力充沛的 | |
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454 smack | |
vt.拍,打,掴;咂嘴;vi.含有…意味;n.拍 | |
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455 fumed | |
愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 ); 大怒; 发怒; 冒烟 | |
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456 ardent | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,强烈的,烈性的 | |
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457 spine | |
n.脊柱,脊椎;(动植物的)刺;书脊 | |
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458 spines | |
n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 );脊椎;(动植物的)刺;书脊 | |
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459 layoff | |
n.临时解雇,操作停止,活动停止期间,失业期 | |
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460 mincing | |
adj.矫饰的;v.切碎;切碎 | |
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461 embarked | |
乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 ); 装载; 从事 | |
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462 tallies | |
n.账( tally的名词复数 );符合;(计数的)签;标签v.计算,清点( tally的第三人称单数 );加标签(或标记)于;(使)符合;(使)吻合 | |
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463 sipped | |
v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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464 bouts | |
n.拳击(或摔跤)比赛( bout的名词复数 );一段(工作);(尤指坏事的)一通;(疾病的)发作 | |
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465 exquisitely | |
adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
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466 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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467 cavern | |
n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
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468 conservatory | |
n.温室,音乐学院;adj.保存性的,有保存力的 | |
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469 dangling | |
悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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470 orchids | |
n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
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471 propped | |
支撑,支持,维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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472 refineries | |
精炼厂( refinery的名词复数 ) | |
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473 gargantuan | |
adj.巨大的,庞大的 | |
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474 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
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475 vomited | |
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476 deluges | |
v.使淹没( deluge的第三人称单数 );淹没;被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没;穷于应付 | |
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477 deluge | |
n./vt.洪水,暴雨,使泛滥 | |
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478 morsel | |
n.一口,一点点 | |
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479 reptile | |
n.爬行动物;两栖动物 | |
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480 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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481 patois | |
n.方言;混合语 | |
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482 diminutive | |
adj.小巧可爱的,小的 | |
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483 seething | |
沸腾的,火热的 | |
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484 noisome | |
adj.有害的,可厌的 | |
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485 dismally | |
adv.阴暗地,沉闷地 | |
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486 dilemma | |
n.困境,进退两难的局面 | |
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487 vows | |
誓言( vow的名词复数 ); 郑重宣布,许愿 | |
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488 ethnic | |
adj.人种的,种族的,异教徒的 | |
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489 scatter | |
vt.撒,驱散,散开;散布/播;vi.分散,消散 | |
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490 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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491 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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492 checkered | |
adj.有方格图案的 | |
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493 buckled | |
a. 有带扣的 | |
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494 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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495 halfway | |
adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途 | |
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496 outlaying | |
v.支出,费用( outlay的现在分词 ) | |
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497 shack | |
adj.简陋的小屋,窝棚 | |
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498 mangrove | |
n.(植物)红树,红树林 | |
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499 aroma | |
n.香气,芬芳,芳香 | |
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500 mildew | |
n.发霉;v.(使)发霉 | |
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501 gorge | |
n.咽喉,胃,暴食,山峡;v.塞饱,狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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502 dowdy | |
adj.不整洁的;过旧的 | |
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503 highland | |
n.(pl.)高地,山地 | |
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504 sensational | |
adj.使人感动的,非常好的,轰动的,耸人听闻的 | |
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505 relegated | |
v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 );使降职;转移;把…归类 | |
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506 merging | |
合并(分类) | |
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507 flicked | |
(尤指用手指或手快速地)轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 ); (用…)轻挥; (快速地)按开关; 向…笑了一下(或瞥了一眼等) | |
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508 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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509 bonnet | |
n.无边女帽;童帽 | |
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510 bonnets | |
n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 );(烟囱等的)覆盖物;(苏格兰男子的)无边呢帽;(女子戴的)任何一种帽子 | |
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511 scooped | |
v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 );(敏捷地)抱起;抢先获得;用铲[勺]等挖(洞等) | |
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512 buckles | |
搭扣,扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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513 whoop | |
n.大叫,呐喊,喘息声;v.叫喊,喘息 | |
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514 exuberant | |
adj.充满活力的;(植物)繁茂的 | |
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515 astringent | |
adj.止血的,收缩的,涩的;n.收缩剂,止血剂 | |
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516 torpor | |
n.迟钝;麻木;(动物的)冬眠 | |
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517 stinking | |
adj.臭的,烂醉的,讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 );发臭味;名声臭;糟透 | |
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518 miasma | |
n.毒气;不良气氛 | |
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519 lament | |
n.悲叹,悔恨,恸哭;v.哀悼,悔恨,悲叹 | |
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520 hissed | |
发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 ); 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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521 liars | |
说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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522 contrite | |
adj.悔悟了的,后悔的,痛悔的 | |
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523 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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524 miser | |
n.守财奴,吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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525 overdue | |
adj.过期的,到期未付的;早该有的,迟到的 | |
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526 schisms | |
n.教会分立,分裂( schism的名词复数 ) | |
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527 heresies | |
n.异端邪说,异教( heresy的名词复数 ) | |
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528 bishops | |
(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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529 diplomat | |
n.外交官,外交家;能交际的人,圆滑的人 | |
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530 boon | |
n.恩赐,恩物,恩惠 | |
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531 cardinal | |
n.(天主教的)红衣主教;adj.首要的,基本的 | |
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532 ethics | |
n.伦理学;伦理观,道德标准 | |
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533 knack | |
n.诀窍,做事情的灵巧的,便利的方法 | |
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534 prominence | |
n.突出;显著;杰出;重要 | |
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535 ruffling | |
弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 ); 弄乱; 激怒; 扰乱 | |
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536 marine | |
adj.海的;海生的;航海的;海事的;n.水兵 | |
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537 mosque | |
n.清真寺 | |
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538 minaret | |
n.(回教寺院的)尖塔 | |
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539 barbarians | |
n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 );外国人;粗野的人;无教养的人 | |
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540 blurred | |
v.(使)变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 );(使)难以区分;模模糊糊;迷离 | |
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541 knell | |
n.丧钟声;v.敲丧钟 | |
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542 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
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543 legacy | |
n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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544 puritanical | |
adj.极端拘谨的;道德严格的 | |
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545 lustful | |
a.贪婪的;渴望的 | |
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546 accolade | |
n.推崇备至,赞扬 | |
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547 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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548 tighten | |
v.(使)变紧;(使)绷紧 | |
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549 supervision | |
n.监督,管理 | |
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550 beads | |
n.(空心)小珠子( bead的名词复数 );水珠;珠子项链 | |
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551 dissimulation | |
n.掩饰,虚伪,装糊涂 | |
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552 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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553 grimaced | |
v.扮鬼相,做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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554 forsook | |
forsake的过去式 | |
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555 forsake | |
vt.遗弃,抛弃;舍弃,放弃 | |
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|
556 relic | |
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物 | |
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|
557 rectify | |
v.订正,矫正,改正 | |
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558 privately | |
adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
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|
559 skeptical | |
adj.怀疑的,多疑的 | |
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560 pickle | |
n.腌汁,泡菜;v.腌,泡 | |
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561 quacks | |
abbr.quacksalvers 庸医,骗子(16世纪习惯用水银或汞治疗梅毒的人)n.江湖医生( quack的名词复数 );江湖郎中;(鸭子的)呱呱声v.(鸭子)发出嘎嘎声( quack的第三人称单数 ) | |
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562 sagging | |
下垂[沉,陷],松垂,垂度 | |
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563 idyllic | |
adj.质朴宜人的,田园风光的 | |
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|
564 precursors | |
n.先驱( precursor的名词复数 );先行者;先兆;初期形式 | |
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565 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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566 benign | |
adj.善良的,慈祥的;良性的,无危险的 | |
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567 awesome | |
adj.令人惊叹的,难得吓人的,很好的 | |
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568 ribs | |
n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 );(船或屋顶等的)肋拱;肋骨状的东西;(织物的)凸条花纹 | |
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569 protruding | |
v.(使某物)伸出,(使某物)突出( protrude的现在分词 );凸 | |
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570 haze | |
n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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571 niche | |
n.壁龛;合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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572 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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573 concealing | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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574 awfully | |
adv.可怕地,非常地,极端地 | |
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575 bellies | |
n.肚子( belly的名词复数 );腹部;(物体的)圆形或凸起部份;腹部…形的 | |
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576 grunting | |
咕哝的,呼噜的 | |
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577 sneaked | |
v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 );偷偷溜走;(儿童向成人)打小报告;告状 | |
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578 rhythmic | |
adj.有节奏的,有韵律的 | |
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579 maneuvered | |
v.移动,用策略( maneuver的过去式和过去分词 );操纵 | |
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580 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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581 plausibly | |
似真地 | |
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582 lure | |
n.吸引人的东西,诱惑物;vt.引诱,吸引 | |
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583 fascination | |
n.令人着迷的事物,魅力,迷恋 | |
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584 embroidery | |
n.绣花,刺绣;绣制品 | |
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585 pregnancy | |
n.怀孕,怀孕期 | |
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586 delusions | |
n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 );谬见;错觉;妄想 | |
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587 delusion | |
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑 | |
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588 incubus | |
n.负担;恶梦 | |
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589 recalcitrant | |
adj.倔强的 | |
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590 pretense | |
n.矫饰,做作,借口 | |
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591 outraged | |
a.震惊的,义愤填膺的 | |
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592 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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593 waddled | |
v.(像鸭子一样)摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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594 addled | |
adj.(头脑)糊涂的,愚蠢的;(指蛋类)变坏v.使糊涂( addle的过去式和过去分词 );使混乱;使腐臭;使变质 | |
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595 WHIMS | |
虚妄,禅病 | |
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596 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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597 bastard | |
n.坏蛋,混蛋;私生子 | |
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598 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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599 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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600 abjection | |
n. 卑鄙, 落魄 | |
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601 obsession | |
n.困扰,无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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602 shuffled | |
v.洗(纸牌)( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 );拖着脚步走;粗心地做;摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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603 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
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604 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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605 versed | |
adj. 精通,熟练 | |
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606 propping | |
支撑 | |
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607 wryly | |
adv. 挖苦地,嘲弄地 | |
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608 temerity | |
n.鲁莽,冒失 | |
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609 stipulate | |
vt.规定,(作为条件)讲定,保证 | |
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610 copious | |
adj.丰富的,大量的 | |
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611 whined | |
v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 );哀诉,诉怨 | |
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612 maliciously | |
adv.有敌意地 | |
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613 sanctimonious | |
adj.假装神圣的,假装虔诚的,假装诚实的 | |
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614 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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615 misty | |
adj.雾蒙蒙的,有雾的 | |
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616 well-being | |
n.安康,安乐,幸福 | |
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617 grudgingly | |
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618 supple | |
adj.柔软的,易弯的,逢迎的,顺从的,灵活的;vt.使柔软,使柔顺,使顺从;vi.变柔软,变柔顺 | |
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619 crooked | |
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
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620 crook | |
v.使弯曲;n.小偷,骗子,贼;弯曲(处) | |
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621 gaping | |
adj.口的;张口的;敞口的;多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 );张开,张大 | |
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622 scuttle | |
v.急赶,疾走,逃避;n.天窗;舷窗 | |
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623 winced | |
赶紧避开,畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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624 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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625 moths | |
n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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626 rapport | |
n.和睦,意见一致 | |
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627 bad-tempered | |
adj.脾气坏的 | |
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628 dictated | |
v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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629 riveting | |
adj.动听的,令人着迷的,完全吸引某人注意力的;n.铆接(法) | |
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630 cerebral | |
adj.脑的,大脑的;有智力的,理智型的 | |
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631 fiddling | |
微小的 | |
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632 contemplating | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
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633 writhing | |
(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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634 vault | |
n.拱形圆顶,地窖,地下室 | |
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635 usurped | |
篡夺,霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 ); 盗用; 篡夺,篡权 | |
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636 blotting | |
吸墨水纸 | |
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637 cleaver | |
n.切肉刀 | |
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638 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
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639 celibacy | |
n.独身(主义) | |
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640 fretting | |
n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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641 paralysis | |
n.麻痹(症);瘫痪(症) | |
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642 loomed | |
v.隐约出现,阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 );隐约出现,阴森地逼近 | |
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643 scudding | |
n.刮面v.(尤指船、舰或云彩)笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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644 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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645 cyclones | |
n.气旋( cyclone的名词复数 );旋风;飓风;暴风 | |
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646 stilts | |
n.(支撑建筑物高出地面或水面的)桩子,支柱( stilt的名词复数 );高跷 | |
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647 wharf | |
n.码头,停泊处 | |
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648 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
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649 suffused | |
v.(指颜色、水气等)弥漫于,布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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650 translucent | |
adj.半透明的;透明的 | |
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651 fathoms | |
英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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652 grotto | |
n.洞穴 | |
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653 vistas | |
长条形景色( vista的名词复数 ); 回顾; 展望; (未来可能发生的)一系列情景 | |
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654 hued | |
有某种色调的 | |
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655 lagoon | |
n.泻湖,咸水湖 | |
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656 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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657 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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658 foam | |
v./n.泡沫,起泡沫 | |
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659 leeward | |
adj.背风的;下风的 | |
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660 tinged | |
v.(使)发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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661 seduced | |
诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 ); 勾引; 诱使堕落; 使入迷 | |
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662 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
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663 lark | |
n.云雀,百灵鸟;n.嬉戏,玩笑;vi.嬉戏 | |
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664 amenities | |
n.令人愉快的事物;礼仪;礼节;便利设施;礼仪( amenity的名词复数 );便利设施;(环境等的)舒适;(性情等的)愉快 | |
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665 inured | |
adj.坚强的,习惯的 | |
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666 unpacked | |
v.从(包裹等)中取出(所装的东西),打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 );拆包;解除…的负担;吐露(心事等) | |
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667 domain | |
n.(活动等)领域,范围;领地,势力范围 | |
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668 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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669 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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670 teeming | |
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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671 bolstered | |
v.支持( bolster的过去式和过去分词 );支撑;给予必要的支持;援助 | |
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672 garishly | |
adv.鲜艳夺目地,俗不可耐地;华丽地 | |
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673 anemones | |
n.银莲花( anemone的名词复数 );海葵 | |
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674 tentacles | |
n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 );触角;触须;触毛 | |
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675 fluted | |
a.有凹槽的 | |
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676 clams | |
n.蛤;蚌,蛤( clam的名词复数 )v.(在沙滩上)挖蛤( clam的第三人称单数 ) | |
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677 beckoned | |
v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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678 tantalizing | |
adj.逗人的;惹弄人的;撩人的;煽情的v.逗弄,引诱,折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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679 mermaid | |
n.美人鱼 | |
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680 alluring | |
adj.吸引人的,迷人的 | |
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681 taunting | |
嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 ); 嘲弄; 辱骂; 奚落 | |
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682 darted | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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683 gaudier | |
adj.花哨的,俗气的( gaudy的比较级 ) | |
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684 fanged | |
adj.有尖牙的,有牙根的,有毒牙的 | |
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685 lurking | |
潜在 | |
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686 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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687 twig | |
n.小树枝,嫩枝;v.理解 | |
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688 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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689 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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690 tangled | |
adj. 纠缠的,紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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691 clumps | |
n.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的名词复数 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声v.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声 | |
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692 omission | |
n.省略,删节;遗漏或省略的事物,冗长 | |
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693 wails | |
痛哭,哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
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694 crabs | |
n.蟹( crab的名词复数 );阴虱寄生病;蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
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695 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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696 interfering | |
adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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697 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
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698 salvaging | |
(从火灾、海难等中)抢救(某物)( salvage的现在分词 ); 回收利用(某物) | |
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699 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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700 strapped | |
adj.用皮带捆住的,用皮带装饰的;身无分文的;缺钱;手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词);用皮带抽打;包扎;给…打绷带 | |
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701 vaulted | |
adj.拱状的 | |
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702 retrieved | |
v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 );恢复;寻回;检索(储存的信息) | |
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703 freckles | |
n.雀斑,斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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704 salaam | |
n.额手之礼,问安,敬礼;v.行额手礼 | |
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705 rhythmically | |
adv.有节奏地 | |
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706 orphanages | |
孤儿院( orphanage的名词复数 ) | |
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|
707 flex | |
n.皮线,花线;vt.弯曲或伸展 | |
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708 corks | |
n.脐梅衣;软木( cork的名词复数 );软木塞 | |
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709 fabulously | |
难以置信地,惊人地 | |
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710 snugly | |
adv.紧贴地;贴身地;暖和舒适地;安适地 | |
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|
711 rumbles | |
隆隆声,辘辘声( rumble的名词复数 ) | |
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712 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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713 ideologies | |
n.思想(体系)( ideology的名词复数 );思想意识;意识形态;观念形态 | |
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714 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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715 eyelid | |
n.眼睑,眼皮 | |
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716 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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717 expediency | |
n.适宜;方便;合算;利己 | |
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718 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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719 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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720 iota | |
n.些微,一点儿 | |
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721 anonymous | |
adj.无名的;匿名的;无特色的 | |
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722 reassuring | |
a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的,使人放心的 | |
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723 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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724 sputtering | |
n.反应溅射法;飞溅;阴极真空喷镀;喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 );发劈啪声;喷出;飞溅出 | |
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725 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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726 stilted | |
adj.虚饰的;夸张的 | |
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727 jug | |
n.(有柄,小口,可盛水等的)大壶,罐,盂 | |
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728 verandas | |
阳台,走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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729 steadfastly | |
adv.踏实地,不变地;岿然;坚定不渝 | |
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730 frantically | |
ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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731 query | |
n.疑问,问号,质问;vt.询问,表示怀疑 | |
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732 unearth | |
v.发掘,掘出,从洞中赶出 | |
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733 eradicate | |
v.根除,消灭,杜绝 | |
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734 sanctuary | |
n.圣所,圣堂,寺庙;禁猎区,保护区 | |
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735 distressingly | |
adv. 令人苦恼地;悲惨地 | |
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736 goaded | |
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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737 cemetery | |
n.坟墓,墓地,坟场 | |
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738 perpetuated | |
vt.使永存(perpetuate的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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739 nurtured | |
养育( nurture的过去式和过去分词 ); 培育; 滋长; 助长 | |
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740 facets | |
n.(宝石或首饰的)小平面( facet的名词复数 );(事物的)面;方面 | |
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741 succumbed | |
不再抵抗(诱惑、疾病、攻击等)( succumb的过去式和过去分词 ); 屈从; 被压垮; 死 | |
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742 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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743 juvenile | |
n.青少年,少年读物;adj.青少年的,幼稚的 | |
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744 immature | |
adj.未成熟的,发育未全的,未充分发展的 | |
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745 impetus | |
n.推动,促进,刺激;推动力 | |
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746 dormant | |
adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
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747 detonation | |
n.爆炸;巨响 | |
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748 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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749 subservient | |
adj.卑屈的,阿谀的 | |
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750 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
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751 profanation | |
n.亵渎 | |
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752 graft | |
n.移植,嫁接,艰苦工作,贪污;v.移植,嫁接 | |
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753 symbiosis | |
n.共生(关系),共栖 | |
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754 crevices | |
n.(尤指岩石的)裂缝,缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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755 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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756 yearning | |
a.渴望的;向往的;怀念的 | |
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757 abjure | |
v.发誓放弃 | |
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758 rosebud | |
n.蔷薇花蕾,妙龄少女 | |
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759 sleekly | |
光滑地,光泽地 | |
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760 exasperating | |
adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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761 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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762 realization | |
n.实现;认识到,深刻了解 | |
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763 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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764 fleeting | |
adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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765 respite | |
n.休息,中止,暂缓 | |
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766 blotted | |
涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
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767 supremely | |
adv.无上地,崇高地 | |
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768 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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769 cleaving | |
v.劈开,剁开,割开( cleave的现在分词 ) | |
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770 alluringly | |
诱人地,妩媚地 | |
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771 relinquishing | |
交出,让给( relinquish的现在分词 ); 放弃 | |
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772 mandate | |
n.托管地;命令,指示 | |
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773 chunks | |
厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 ); (某物)相当大的数量或部分 | |
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774 presumptuous | |
adj.胆大妄为的,放肆的,冒昧的,冒失的 | |
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775 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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776 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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777 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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778 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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779 scuttled | |
v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 );快跑,急走 | |
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780 worthiness | |
价值,值得 | |
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781 eradicated | |
画着根的 | |
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782 caresses | |
爱抚,抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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783 tautness | |
拉紧,紧固度 | |
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784 elasticity | |
n.弹性,伸缩力 | |
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785 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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786 implicit | |
a.暗示的,含蓄的,不明晰的,绝对的 | |
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787 vicissitudes | |
n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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788 hazy | |
adj.有薄雾的,朦胧的;不肯定的,模糊的 | |
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789 illicit | |
adj.非法的,禁止的,不正当的 | |
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790 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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791 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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792 profane | |
adj.亵神的,亵渎的;vt.亵渎,玷污 | |
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793 profanely | |
adv.渎神地,凡俗地 | |
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794 jolted | |
(使)摇动, (使)震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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795 foresight | |
n.先见之明,深谋远虑 | |
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796 adept | |
adj.老练的,精通的 | |
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797 fussier | |
adj.瞎忙的( fussy的比较级 );紧张不安的;过分琐碎的;装饰太多的 | |
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798 looming | |
n.上现蜃景(光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼)v.隐约出现,阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 );隐约出现,阴森地逼近 | |
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799 goodwill | |
n.善意,亲善,信誉,声誉 | |
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800 scant | |
adj.不充分的,不足的;v.减缩,限制,忽略 | |
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801 anticipation | |
n.预期,预料,期望 | |
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802 flattened | |
[医](水)平扁的,弄平的 | |
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803 nervously | |
adv.神情激动地,不安地 | |
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804 enticing | |
adj.迷人的;诱人的 | |
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805 stimuli | |
n.刺激(物) | |
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806 luxuriously | |
adv.奢侈地,豪华地 | |
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807 begrudge | |
vt.吝啬,羡慕 | |
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808 calf | |
n.小牛,犊,幼仔,小牛皮 | |
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809 complacent | |
adj.自满的;自鸣得意的 | |
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810 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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811 accusations | |
n.指责( accusation的名词复数 );指控;控告;(被告发、控告的)罪名 | |
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812 appalled | |
v.使惊骇,使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的;丧胆的 | |
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813 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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814 perfidies | |
n.背信弃义,背叛,出卖( perfidy的名词复数 ) | |
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815 ingratitude | |
n.忘恩负义 | |
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