In a moment, the night superintendent said quietly:
“Yes, I’ll ask him.”
When she spoke7 to him, however, her tone had changed completely from the cool professional courtesy of her speech into the telephone: putting the instrument down upon the top of the desk, and covering the mouth-piece with her hand, she spoke quietly to him, but with a note of cynical8 humour in her voice, bold, coarse, a trifle mocking.
“It’s your wife,” she said. “What shall I tell her?”
He regarded her stupidly for a moment before he answered.
“What does she want?” he grunted9.
She looked at him with hard eyes touched with pity and regret.
“What do you think a woman wants?” she said. “She wants to know if you are coming home tonight.”
He stared at her and then grunted:
“Won’t go home.”
She took her hand away from the mouth-piece instantly, and taking up the phone again, spoke smoothly10, quietly, with cool crisp courtesy:
“The doctor will not be able to go home tonight, Mrs. McGuire. He has to operate at seven-thirty. . . . Yes. . . . Yes. . . . At seven-thirty. . . . He has decided11 it is best to stay here until the operation is over. . . . Yes. . . . I’ll tell him. . . . Thank YOU. . . . Good-bye.”
She hung up quietly and then turning to him, her hands arched cleanly on starched12 hips13, she looked at him for a moment with a bold sardonic14 humour.
“What did she say?” he mumbled15 thickly.
“Nothing,” she said quietly. “Nothing at all. What else is there to say?”
He made no answer but just kept staring at her in his bloated drunken way with nothing but the numb16 swelter of that irremediable anguish17 in his heart. In a moment, her voice hardening imperceptibly, the nurse spoke quietly again:
“Oh, yes — and I forgot to tell you — you had another call tonight.”
He moistened his thick lips, and mumbled:
“Who was it?”
“It was that woman of yours.”
There was no sound save the stertorous18 labour of his breath; he stared at her with his veined and yellowed eyes, and grunted stolidly19:
“What did she want?”
“She wanted to know if the doc-taw was theah,” Creasman said in a coarse and throaty parody20 of refinement21. “And is he coming in tonight? Really, I should like to know. . . . Ooh, yaas,” Creasman went on throatily, adding a broad stroke or two on her own account. “I simply must find out! I cawn’t get my sleep in until I do. . . . Well,” she demanded harshly, “what am I going to tell her if she calls again?”
“What did she say to tell me?”
“She said”— the nurse’s tone again was lewdly22 tinged23 with parody — “to tell you that she is having guests for dinner tomorrow night — this evening — and that you simply GOT to be th?h, you, and your wife, too — ooh, Gawd, yes! — the Reids are comin’, don’t-cherknow — and if you are not th?h Gawd only knows what will happen!”
He glowered24 at her drunkenly for a moment, and then, waving thick fingers at her in disgust, he mumbled:
“You got a dirty mouth . . . don’t become you. . . . Unlady-like. . . . Don’t like a dirty-talkin’ woman. . . . Never did. . . . Unbecomin’. . . . Unlady-like. . . . Nurses all alike . . . all dirty talkers . . . don’t like ’em.”
“Oh, dirty talkers, your granny!” she said coarsely. “Now you leave the nurses alone. . . . They’re decent enough girls, most of ’em, until they come here and listen to you for a month or two. . . . You listen to me, Hugh McGuire; don’t blame the nurses. When it comes to dirty talking, you can walk off with the medals any day in the week. . . . Even if I am your cousin, I had a good Christian25 raising out in the country before I came here. So don’t talk to me about nurses’ dirty talk: after a few sessions with you in the operating room even the Virgin26 Mary could use language fit to make a monkey blush. So don’t blame it on the nurses. Most of them are white as snow compared to you.”
“You’re dirty talkers — all of you,” he muttered, waving his thick fingers in her direction. “Don’t like it. . . . Unbecomin’ in a lady.”
For a moment she did not answer, but stood looking at him, arms akimbo on her starched white hips, a glance that was bold, hard, sardonic, but somehow tinged with a deep and broad affection.
Then, taking her hands off her hips, she bent27 swiftly over him, reached down between his legs, and got the jug28 and lifting it up to the light in order to make her cynical inspection29 of its depleted30 contents more accurate, she remarked with ironic31 approbation32:
“My, my! You’re doing pretty well, aren’t you? . . . Well, it won’t be long NOW, will it?” she said cheerfully, and then turning to him abruptly33 and accusingly, demanded:
“Do you realize that you were supposed to call Helen Gant at twelve o’clock?” She glanced swiftly at the clock. “Just three and a half hours ago. Or did you forget it?”
He passed his thick hand across the reddish unshaved stubble of his beard.
“Who?” he said stupidly. “Where? What is it?”
“Oh, nothing to worry about,” she said with a light hard humour. “Just a little case of carcinoma of the prostate. He’s going to die anyway, so you’ve got nothing to worry about at all.”
“Who?” he said stupidly again. “Who is it?”
“Oh, just a man,” she said gaily34. “An old, old man name Mr. Gant. — You’ve been his physician for twenty years, but maybe you’ve forgotten him. You know — they come and go; some live and others die — it’s all right — this one’s going to die. They’ll bury him — it’ll all come out right one way or the other — so you’ve nothing to worry about at all. . . . Even if you kill him,” she said cheerfully. “He’s just an old, old man with cancer, and bound to die anyway, so promise me you won’t worry about it too much, will you?”
She looked at him a moment longer; then, putting her hand under his fat chin, she jerked his head up sharply. He stared at her stupidly with his yellowed drunken eyes, and in them she saw the mute anguish of a tortured animal, and suddenly her heart was twisted with pity for him.
“Look here,” she said, in a hard and quiet voice, “what’s wrong with you?”
In a moment he mumbled thickly:
“Nothing’s wrong with me.”
“Is it the woman business again? For God’s sake, are you never going to grow up, McGuire? Are you going to remain an overgrown schoolboy all your life? Are you going to keep on eating your heart out over a bitch who thinks that spring is here every time her hind35 end itches36? Are you going to throw your life away, and let your work go to smash because some damned woman in the change of life has done you dirt? What kind of man are you, anyway?” she jeered37. “Jesus God! If it’s a woman that you want the woods are full of ’em. Besides,” she added, “what’s wrong with your own wife! She’s worth a million of those flossy sluts.”
He made no answer and in a moment she went on in a harsh and jeering38 tone that was almost deliberately39 coarse:
“Haven’t you learned yet, with all you’ve seen of it, that a piece of tail is just a piece of tail, and that in the dark it doesn’t matter one good God-damn whether it’s brown, black, white, or yellow?”
Even as she spoke, something cold and surgical40 in his mind, which no amount of alcohol seemed to dull or blur41, was saying accurately42: “Why do they all feel such contempt for one another? What is it in them that makes them despise themselves?”
Aloud, however, waving his thick fingers at her in a gesture of fat disgust, he said:
“Creasman, you got a dirty tongue. . . . Don’t like to hear a woman talk like that. . . . Never liked to hear a dirty-talkin’ woman. . . . You’re no lady!”
“Ah-h! No lady!” she said bitterly, and let her hands fall in a gesture of defeat. “All right, you poor fool, if that’s the way you feel about it, go ahead and drink yourself to death over your ‘lady.’ That’s what’s wrong with you.”
And, muttering angrily, she left him. He sat there stupidly, without moving, until her firm heel-taps had receded43 down the silent hall, and he heard a door close. Then he reached down between his knees and got the jug and drank again. And again there was nothing in the place except the sound of silence, the rapid ticking of a little clock, the thick short breathing of the man.
点击收听单词发音
1 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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2 stupor | |
v.昏迷;不省人事 | |
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3 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
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4 insistent | |
adj.迫切的,坚持的 | |
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5 superintendent | |
n.监督人,主管,总监;(英国)警务长 | |
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6 linoleum | |
n.油布,油毯 | |
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7 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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8 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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9 grunted | |
(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说 | |
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10 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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11 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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12 starched | |
adj.浆硬的,硬挺的,拘泥刻板的v.把(衣服、床单等)浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13 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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14 sardonic | |
adj.嘲笑的,冷笑的,讥讽的 | |
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15 mumbled | |
含糊地说某事,叽咕,咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 numb | |
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木 | |
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17 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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18 stertorous | |
adj.打鼾的 | |
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19 stolidly | |
adv.迟钝地,神经麻木地 | |
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20 parody | |
n.打油诗文,诙谐的改编诗文,拙劣的模仿;v.拙劣模仿,作模仿诗文 | |
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21 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
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22 lewdly | |
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23 tinged | |
v.(使)发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24 glowered | |
v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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26 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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27 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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28 jug | |
n.(有柄,小口,可盛水等的)大壶,罐,盂 | |
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29 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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30 depleted | |
adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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31 ironic | |
adj.讽刺的,有讽刺意味的,出乎意料的 | |
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32 approbation | |
n.称赞;认可 | |
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33 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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34 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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35 hind | |
adj.后面的,后部的 | |
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36 itches | |
n.痒( itch的名词复数 );渴望,热望v.发痒( itch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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37 jeered | |
v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38 jeering | |
adj.嘲弄的,揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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39 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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40 surgical | |
adj.外科的,外科医生的,手术上的 | |
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41 blur | |
n.模糊不清的事物;vt.使模糊,使看不清楚 | |
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42 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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43 receded | |
v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 );向后倾斜;自原处后退或避开别人的注视;尤指问题 | |
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