The express from London was late, so that Constance had three- quarters of an hour of the stony1 calmness of Knype platform when it is waiting for a great train. At last the porters began to cry, "Macclesfield, Stockport, and Manchester train;" the immense engine glided2 round the curve, dwarfing3 the carriages behind it, and Constance had a supreme4 tremor5. The calmness of the platform was transformed into a melee6. Little Constance found herself left on the fringe of a physically7 agitated8 crowd which was apparently9 trying to scale a precipice10 surmounted11 by windows and doors from whose apertures12 looked forth13 defenders14 of the train. Knype platform seemed as if it would never be reduced to order again. And Constance did not estimate highly the chances of picking out an unknown Sophia from that welter. She was very seriously perturbed15. All the muscles of her face were drawn16 as her gaze wandered anxiously from end to end of the train.
Presently she saw a singular dog. Other people also saw it. It was of the colour of chocolate; it had a head and shoulders richly covered with hair that hung down in thousands of tufts like the tufts of a modern mop such as is bought in shops. This hair stopped suddenly rather less than halfway17 along the length of the dog's body, the remainder of which was naked and as smooth as marble. The effect was to give to the inhabitants of the Five Towns the impression that the dog had forgotten an essential part of its attire18 and was outraging19 decency20. The ball of hair which had been allowed to grow on the dog's tail, and the circles of hair which ornamented21 its ankles, only served to intensify22 the impression of indecency. A pink ribbon round its neck completed the outrage23. The animal had absolutely the air of a decked trollop. A chain ran taut24 from the creature's neck into the middle of a small crowd of persons gesticulating over trunks, and Constance traced it to a tall and distinguished25 woman in a coat and skirt with a rather striking hat. A beautiful and aristocratic woman, Constance thought, at a distance! Then the strange idea came to her: "That's Sophia!" She was sure. ... She was not sure. ... She was sure. The woman emerged from the crowd. Her eye fell on Constance. They both hesitated, and, as it were, wavered uncertainly towards each other.
"I should have known you anywhere," said Sophia, with apparently careless tranquillity26, as she stooped to kiss Constance, raising her veil.
Constance saw that this marvellous tranquillity must be imitated, and she imitated it very well. It was a 'Baines' tranquillity. But she noticed a twitching27 of her sister's lips. The twitching comforted Constance, proving to her that she was not alone in foolishness. There was also something queer about the permanent lines of Sophia's mouth. That must be due to the 'attack' about which Sophia had written.
"Did Cyril meet you?" asked Constance. It was all that she could think of to say.
"Oh yes!" said Sophia, eagerly. "And I went to his studio, and he saw me off at Euston. He is a VERY nice boy. I love him."
She said 'I love him' with the intonation28 of Sophia aged29 fifteen. Her tone and imperious gesture sent Constance flying back to the 'sixties. "She hasn't altered one bit," Constance thought with joy. "Nothing could change Sophia." And at the back of that notion was a more general notion: "Nothing could change a Baines." It was true that Constance's Sophia had not changed. Powerful individualities remain undisfigured by no matter what vicissitudes30. After this revelation of the original Sophia, arising as it did out of praise of Cyril, Constance felt easier, felt reassured31.
"This is Fossette," said Sophia, pulling at the chain.
Constance knew not what to reply. Surely Sophia could not be aware what she did in bringing such a dog to a place where people were so particular as they are in the Five Towns.
"Fossette!" She repeated the name in an endearing accent, half stooping towards the dog. After all, it was not the dog's fault. Sophia had certainly mentioned a dog in her letters, but she had not prepared Constance for the spectacle of Fossette.
All that happened in a moment. A porter appeared with two trunks belonging to Sophia. Constance observed that they were superlatively 'good' trunks; also that Sophia's clothes, though 'on the showy side,' were superlatively 'good.' The getting of Sophia's ticket to Bursley occupied them next, and soon the first shock of meeting had worn off.
In a second-class compartment32 of the Loop Line train, with Sophia and Fossette opposite to her, Constance had leisure to 'take in' Sophia. She came to the conclusion that, despite her slenderness and straightness and the general effect of the long oval of her face under the hat, Sophia looked her age. She saw that Sophia must have been through a great deal; her experiences were damagingly printed in the details of feature. Seen at a distance, she might have passed for a woman of thirty, even for a girl, but seen across a narrow railway carriage she was a woman whom suffering had aged. Yet obviously her spirit was unbroken. Hear her tell a doubtful porter that of course she should take Fossette with her into the carriage! See her shut the carriage door with the expressed intention of keeping other people out! She was accustomed to command. At the same time her face had an almost set smile, as though she had said to herself: "I will die smiling." Constance felt sorry for her. While recognizing in Sophia a superior in charm, in experience, in knowledge of the world and in force of personality, she yet with a kind of undisturbed, fundamental superiority felt sorry for Sophia.
"What do you think?" said Sophia, absently fingering Fossette. "A man came up to me at Euston, while Cyril was getting my ticket, and said, 'Eh, Miss Baines, I haven't seen ye for over thirty years, but I know you're Miss Baines, or WERE--and you're looking bonny.' Then he went off. I think it must have been Holl, the grocer."
"Had he got a long white beard?"
"Yes."
"Then it was Mr. Holl. He's been Mayor twice. He's an alderman, you know."
"Really!" said Sophia. "But wasn't it queer?"
"Eh! Bless us!" exclaimed Constance. "Don't talk about queer! It's terrible how time flies."
The conversation stopped, and it refused to start again. Two women who are full of affectionate curiosity about each other, and who have not seen each other for thirty years, and who are anxious to confide34 in each other, ought to discover no difficulty in talking; but somehow these two could not talk. Constance perceived that Sophia was impeded35 by the same awkwardness as herself.
"Well I never!" cried Sophia, suddenly. She had glanced out of the window and had seen two camels and an elephant in a field close to the line, amid manufactories and warehouses36 and advertisements of soap.
"Oh!" said Constance. "That's Barnum's, you know."
They have what they call a central depot37 here, because it's the middle of England." Constance spoke38 proudly. (After all, there can be only one middle.) It was on her tongue to say, in her 'tart33' manner, that Fossette ought to be with the camels, but she refrained. Sophia hit on the excellent idea of noting all the buildings that were new to her and all the landmarks39 that she remembered. It was surprising how little the district had altered.
"Same smoke!" said Sophia.
"Same smoke!" Constance agreed.
"It's even worse," said Sophia.
"Do you think so?" Constance was slightly piqued40. "But they're doing something now for smoke abatement41."
"I must have forgotten how dirty it was!" said Sophia. "I suppose that's it. I'd no idea ...!"
"Really!" said Constance. Then, in candid42 admission, "The fact is, it is dirty. You can't imagine what work it makes, especially with window-curtains."
As the train puffed43 under Trafalgar Road, Constance pointed44 to a new station that was being built there, to be called 'Trafalgar Road' station.
"Won't it be strange?" said she, accustomed to the eternal sequence of Loop Lane stations--Turnhill, Bursley, Bleakridge, Hanbridge, Cauldon, Knype, Trent Vale, and Longshaw. A 'Trafalgar Road' inserting itself between Bleakridge and Hanbridge seemed to her excessively curious.
"Yes, I suppose it will," Sophia agreed.
"But of course it's not the same to you," said Constance, dashed. She indicated the glories of Bursley Park, as the train slackened for Bursley, with modesty45. Sophia gazed, and vaguely46 recognized the slopes where she had taken her first walk with Gerald Scales.
Nobody accosted47 them at Bursley Station, and they drove to the Square in a cab. Amy was at the window; she held up Spot, who was in a plenary state of cleanliness, rivalling the purity of Amy's apron48.
"Good afternoon, m'm," said Amy, officiously, to Sophia, as Sophia came up the steps.
"Good afternoon, Amy," Sophia replied. She flattered Amy in thus showing that she was acquainted with her name; but if ever a servant was put into her place by mere49 tone, Amy was put into her place on that occasion. Constance trembled at Sophia's frigid50 and arrogant51 politeness. Certainly Sophia was not used to being addressed first by servants. But Amy was not quite the ordinary servant. She was much older than the ordinary servant, and she had acquired a partial moral dominion52 over Constance, though Constance would have warmly denied it. Hence Constance's apprehension53. However, nothing happened. Amy apparently did not feel the snub.
"Take Spot and put him in Mr. Cyril's bedroom," Constance murmured to her, as if implying: "Have I not already told you to do that?" The fact was, she was afraid for Spot's life.
"Now, Fossette!" She welcomed the incoming poodle kindly54; the poodle began at once to sniff55.
The fat, red cabman was handling the trunks on the pavement, and Amy was upstairs. For a moment the sisters were alone together in the parlour.
"So here I am!" exclaimed the tall, majestic56 woman of fifty. And her lips twitched57 again as she looked round the room--so small to her.
"Yes, here you are!" Constance agreed. She bit her lip, and, as a measure of prudence58 to avoid breaking down, she bustled59 out to the cabman. A passing instant of emotion, like a fleck60 of foam61 on a wide and calm sea!
The cabman blundered up and downstairs with trunks, and saluted62 Sophia's haughty63 generosity64, and then there was quietness. Amy was already brewing65 the tea in the cave. The prepared tea-table in front of the fire made a glittering array.
"Now, what about Fossette?" Constance voiced anxieties that had been growing on her.
"Fossette will be quite right with me," said Sophia, firmly.
They ascended66 to the guest's room, which drew Sophia's admiration67 for its prettiness. She hurried to the window and looked out into the Square.
"Would you like a fire?" Constance asked, in a rather perfunctory manner. For a bedroom fire, in seasons of normal health, was still regarded as absurd in the Square.
"Oh, no!" said Sophia; but with a slight failure to rebut68 the suggestion as utterly69 ridiculous.
"Sure?" Constance questioned.
"Quite, thank you," said Sophia.
"Well, I'll leave you. I expect Amy will have tea ready directly." She went down into the kitchen. "Amy," she said, "as soon as we've finished tea, light a fire in Mrs. Scales's bedroom."
"In the top bedroom, m'm?"
"Yes."
Constance climbed again to her own bedroom, and shut the door. She needed a moment to herself, in the midst of this terrific affair. She sighed with relief as she removed her mantle70. She thought: "At any rate we've met, and I've got her here. She's very nice. No, she isn't a bit altered." She hesitated to admit that to her Sophia was the least in the world formidable. And so she said once more: "She's very nice. She isn't a bit altered." And then: "Fancy her being here! She really is here." With her perfect simplicity71 it did not occur to Constance to speculate as to what Sophia thought of her.
Sophia was downstairs first, and Constance found her looking at the blank wall beyond the door leading to the kitchen steps.
"So this is where you had it bricked up?" said Sophia.
"Yes," said Constance. "That's the place."
"It makes me feel like people feel when they have tickling72 in a limb that's been cut off!" said Sophia.
"Oh, Sophia!"
The tea received a great deal of praise from Sophia, but neither of them ate much. Constance found that Sophia was like herself: she had to be particular about her food. She tasted dainties for the sake of tasting, but it was a bird's pecking. Not the twelfth part of the tea was consumed. They dared not indulge caprices. Only their eyes could feed.
After tea they went up to the drawing-room, and in the corridor had the startling pleasure of seeing two dogs who scurried73 about after each other in amity74. Spot had found Fossette, with the aid of Amy's incurable75 carelessness, and had at once examined her with great particularity. She seemed to be of an amiable76 disposition77, and not averse78 from the lighter79 distractions80. For a long time the sisters sat chatting together in the lit drawing-room to the agreeable sound of happy dogs playing in the dark corridor. Those dogs saved the situation, because they needed constant attention. When the dogs dozed81, the sisters began to look through photograph albums, of which Constance had several, bound in plush or morocco. Nothing will sharpen the memory, evoke82 the past, raise the dead, rejuvenate83 the ageing, and cause both sighs and smiles, like a collection of photographs gathered together during long years of life. Constance had an astonishing menagerie of unknown cousins and their connections, and of townspeople; she had Cyril at all ages; she had weird84 daguerreotypes of her parents and their parents. The strangest of all was a portrait of Samuel Povey as an infant in arms. Sophia checked an impulse to laugh at it. But when Constance said: "Isn't it funny?" she did allow herself to laugh. A photograph of Samuel in the year before his death was really imposing85. Sophia stared at it, impressed. It was the portrait of an honest man.
"How long have you been a widow?" Constance asked in a low voice, glancing at upright Sophia over her spectacles, a leaf of the album raised against her finger.
Sophia unmistakably flushed. "I don't know that I am a widow," said she, with an air. "My husband left me in 1870, and I've never seen nor heard of him since."
"Oh, my dear!" cried Constance, alarmed and deafened86 as by a clap of awful thunder. "I thought ye were a widow. Mr. Peel-Swynnerton said he was told positively87 ye were a widow. That's why I never. ..." She stopped. Her face was troubled.
"Of course I always passed for a widow, over there," said Sophia.
"Of course," said Constance quickly. "I see. ..."
"And I may be a widow," said Sophia.
Constance made no remark. This was a blow. Bursley was such a particular place. Doubtless, Gerald Scales had behaved like a scoundrel. That was sure!
When, immediately afterwards, Amy opened the drawing-room door (having first knocked--the practice of encouraging a servant to plunge88 without warning of any kind into a drawing-room had never been favoured in that house) she saw the sisters sitting rather near to each other at the walnut89 oval table, Mrs. Scales very upright, and staring into the fire, and Mrs. Povey 'bunched up' and staring at the photograph album; both seeming to Amy aged and apprehensive90; Mrs. Povey's hair was quite grey, though Mrs. Scales' hair was nearly as black as Amy's own. Mrs. Scales started at the sound of the knock, and turned her head.
"Here's Mr. and Mrs. Critchlow, m'm," announced Amy.
The sisters glanced at one another, with lifted foreheads. Then Mrs. Povey spoke to Amy as though visits at half-past eight at night were a customary phenomenon of the household. Nevertheless, she trembled to think what outrageous91 thing Mr. Critchlow might say to Sophia after thirty years' absence. The occasion was great, and it might also be terrible.
"Ask them to come up," she said calmly.
But Amy had the best of that encounter. "I have done," she replied, and instantly produced them out of the darkness of the corridor. It was providential: the sisters had made no remark that the Critchlows might not hear.
Then Maria Critchlow, simpering, had to greet Sophia. Mrs. Critchlow was very agitated, from sheer nervousness. She curvetted; she almost pranced92; and she made noises with her mouth as though she saw some one eating a sour apple. She wanted to show Sophia how greatly she had changed from the young, timid apprentice93. Certainly since her marriage she had changed. As manager of other people's business she had not felt the necessity of being effusive94 to customers, but as proprietress, anxiety to succeed had dragged her out of her capable and mechanical indifference95. It was a pity. Her consistent dullness had had a sort of dignity; but genial96, she was merely ridiculous. Animation97 cruelly displayed her appalling98 commonness and physical shabbiness. Sophia's demeanour was not chilly99; but it indicated that Sophia had no wish to be eyed over as a freak of nature.
Mr. Critchlow advanced very slowly into the room. "Ye still carry your head on a stiff neck," said he, deliberately100 examining Sophia. Then with great care he put out his long thin arm and took her hand. "Well, I'm rare and glad to see ye!"
Every one was thunderstruck at this expression of joy. Mr. Critchlow had never been known to be glad to see anybody.
"Yes," twittered Maria, "Mr. Critchlow would come in to-night. Nothing would do but he must come in to-night."
"You didn't tell me this afternoon," said Constance, "that you were going to give us the pleasure of your company like this."
He looked momentarily at Constance. "No," he grated, "I don't know as I did."
His gaze flattered Sophia. Evidently he treated this experienced and sad woman of fifty as a young girl. And in presence of his extreme age she felt like a young girl, remembering the while how as a young girl she had hated him. Repulsing101 the assistance of his wife, he arranged an armchair in front of the fire and meticulously102 put himself into it. Assuredly he was much older in a drawing-room than behind the counter of his shop. Constance had noticed that in the afternoon. A live coal fell out of the fire. He bent103 forward, wet his fingers, picked up the coal and threw it back into the fire.
"Well," said Sophia. "I wouldn't have done that."
"I never saw Mr. Critchlow's equal for picking up hot cinders," Maria giggled104.
Mr. Critchlow deigned105 no remark. "When did ye leave this Paris?" he demanded of Sophia, leaning back, and putting his hands on the arms of the chair.
"Yesterday morning," said Sophia,
"And what'n ye been doing with yeself since yesterday morning?"
"I spent last night in London," Sophia replied.
"Oh, in London, did ye?"
"Yes. Cyril and I had an evening together."
"Eh? Cyril! What's yer opinion o' Cyril, Sophia?"
"I'm very proud to have Cyril for a nephew," said Sophia.
"Oh! Are ye?" The old man was obviously ironic106.
"Yes I am," Sophia insisted sharply. "I'm not going to hear a word said against Cyril."
She proceeded to an enthusiastic laudation of Cyril which rather overwhelmed his mother. Constance was pleased; she was delighted. And yet somewhere in her mind was an uncomfortable feeling that Cyril, having taken a fancy to his brilliant aunt, had tried to charm her as he seldom or never tried to charm his mother. Cyril and Sophia had dazzled and conquered each other; they were of the same type; whereas she, Constance, being but a plain person, could not glitter.
She rang the bell and gave instructions to Amy about food--fruit cakes, coffee and hot milk, on a tray; and Sophia also spoke to Amy murmuring a request as to Fossette.
"Yes, Mrs. Scales," said Amy, with eager deference107.
Mrs. Critchlow smiled vaguely from a low chair near the curtained window. Then Constance lit another burner of the chandelier. In doing so, she gave a little sigh; it was a sigh of relief. Mr. Critchlow had behaved himself. Now that he and Sophia had met, the worst was over. Had Constance known beforehand that he would pay a call, she would have been agonized108 by apprehensions109, but now that he had actually come she was glad he had come.
When he had silently sipped110 some hot milk, he drew a thick bunch of papers, white and blue, from his bulging111 breast-pocket.
"Now, Maria Critchlow," he called, edging round his chair slightly. "Ye'd best go back home."
Maria Critchlow was biting at a bit of walnut cake, while in her right hand, all seamed with black lines, she held a cup of coffee.
"But, Mr. Critchlow----!" Constance protested.
"I've got business with Sophia, and I must get it done. I've got for to render an account of my stewardship112 to Sophia, under her father's will, and her mother's will, and her aunt's will, and it's nobody's business but mine and Sophia's, I reckon. Now then," he glanced at his wife, "off with ye!"
Maria rose, half-kittenish and half-ashamed.
"Surely you don't want to go into all that to-night," said Sophia. She spoke softly, for she had already fully113 perceived that Mr. Critchlow must be managed with the tact114 which the capricious obstinacies115 of advanced age demanded. "Surely you can wait a day or two. I'm in no hurry."
"HAVEN'T I WAITED LONG ENOUGH?" he retorted fiercely.
There was a pause. Maria Critchlow moved.
"As for you being in no hurry, Sophia," the old man went on, "nobody can say as you've been in a hurry."
Sophia had suffered a check. She glanced hesitatingly at Constance.
"Mrs. Critchlow and I will go down into the parlour," said Constance, quickly. "There is a bit of fire there."
"Oh no. I won't hear of such a thing!"
"Yes, we will, won't we, Mrs. Critchlow?" Constance insisted, cheerfully but firmly. She was determined116 that in her house Sophia should have all the freedom and conveniences that she could have had in her own. If a private room was needed for discussions between Sophia and her trustee, Constance's pride was piqued to supply that room. Further, Constance was glad to get Maria out of Sophia's sight. She was accustomed to Maria; with her it did not matter; but she did not care that the teeth of Sophia should be set on edge by the ridiculous demeanour of Maria. So those two left the drawing-room, and the old man began to open the papers which he had been preparing for weeks.
There was very little fire in the parlour, and Constance, in addition to being bored by Mrs. Critchlow's inane117 and inquisitive118 remarks, felt chilly, which was bad for her sciatica. She wondered whether Sophia would have to confess to Mr. Critchlow that she was not certainly a widow. She thought that steps ought to be taken to ascertain119, through Birkinshaws, if anything was known of Gerald Scales. But even that course was set with perils120. Supposing that he still lived, an unspeakable villain121 (Constance could only think of him as an unspeakable villain), and supposing that he molested122 Sophia,--what scenes! What shame in the town! Such frightful123 thoughts ran endlessly through Constance's mind as she bent over the fire endeavouring to keep alive a silly conversation with Maria Critchlow.
Amy passed through the parlour to go to bed. There was no other way of reaching the upper part of the house.
"Are you going to bed, Amy?"
"Yes'm."
"Where is Fossette?"
"In the kitchen, m'm," said Amy, defending herself. "Mrs. Scales told me the dog might sleep in the kitchen with Spot, as they was such good friends. I've opened the bottom drawer, and Fossit is lying in that."
"Mrs. Scales has brought a dog with her!" exclaimed Maria.
"Yes'm!" said Amy, drily, before Constance could answer. She implied everything in that affirmative.
"You are a family for dogs," said Maria. "What sort of dog is it?"
"Well," said Constance. "I don't know exactly what they call it. It's a French dog, one of those French dogs." Amy was lingering at the stairfoot. "Good night, Amy, thank you."
Amy ascended, shutting the door.
"Oh! I see!" Maria muttered. "Well, I never!"
It was ten o'clock before sounds above indicated that the first interview between trustee and beneficiary was finished.
"I'll be going on to open our side-door," said Maria. "Say good night to Mrs. Scales for me." She was not sure whether Charles Critchlow had really meant her to go home, or whether her mere absence from the drawing-room had contented124 him. So she departed. He came down the stairs with the most tiresome125 slowness, went through the parlour in silence, ignoring Constance, and also Sophia, who was at his heels, and vanished.
As Constance shut and bolted the front-door, the sisters looked at each other, Sophia faintly smiling. It seemed to them that they understood each other better when they did not speak. With a glance, they exchanged their ideas on the subject of Charles Critchlow and Maria, and learnt that their ideas were similar. Constance said nothing as to the private interview. Nor did Sophia. At present, on this the first day, they could only achieve intimacy126 by intermittent127 flashes.
"What about bed?" asked Sophia.
"You must be tired," said Constance.
Sophia got to the stairs, which received a little light from the corridor gas, before Constance, having tested the window- fastening, turned out the gas in the parlour. They climbed the lower flight of stairs together.
"I must just see that your room is all right," Constance said.
"Must you?" Sophia smiled.
They climbed the second flight, slowly. Constance was out of breath.
"Oh, a fire! How nice!" cried Sophia. "But why did you go to all that trouble? I told you not to."
"It's no trouble at all," said Constance, raising the gas in the bedroom. Her tone implied that bedroom fires were a quite ordinary incident of daily life in a place like Bursley.
"Well, my dear, I hope you'll find everything comfortable," said Constance.
"I'm sure I shall. Good night, dear."
"Good night, then."
They looked at each other again, with timid affectionateness. They did not kiss. The thought in both their minds was: "We couldn't keep on kissing every day." But there was a vast amount of quiet, restrained affection, of mutual128 confidence and respect, even of tenderness, in their tones.
About half an hour later a dreadful hullaballoo smote129 the ear of Constance. She was just getting into bed. She listened intently, in great alarm. It was undoubtedly130 those dogs fighting, and fighting to the death. She pictured the kitchen as a battlefield, and Spot slain131. Opening the door, she stepped out into the corridor,
"Constance," said a low voice above her. She jumped. "Is that you?"
"Yes."
"Well, don't bother to go down to the dogs; they'll stop in a moment. Fossette won't bite. I'm so sorry she's upsetting the house."
Constance stared upwards132, and discerned a pale shadow. The dogs did soon cease their altercation133. This short colloquy134 in the dark affected135 Constance strangely.
1 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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2 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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3 dwarfing | |
n.矮化病 | |
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4 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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5 tremor | |
n.震动,颤动,战栗,兴奋,地震 | |
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6 melee | |
n.混战;混战的人群 | |
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7 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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8 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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9 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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10 precipice | |
n.悬崖,危急的处境 | |
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11 surmounted | |
战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 ); 克服(困难); 居于…之上; 在…顶上 | |
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12 apertures | |
n.孔( aperture的名词复数 );隙缝;(照相机的)光圈;孔径 | |
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13 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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14 defenders | |
n.防御者( defender的名词复数 );守卫者;保护者;辩护者 | |
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15 perturbed | |
adj.烦燥不安的v.使(某人)烦恼,不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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17 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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18 attire | |
v.穿衣,装扮[同]array;n.衣着;盛装 | |
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19 outraging | |
引起…的义愤,激怒( outrage的现在分词 ) | |
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20 decency | |
n.体面,得体,合宜,正派,庄重 | |
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21 ornamented | |
adj.花式字体的v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22 intensify | |
vt.加强;变强;加剧 | |
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23 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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24 taut | |
adj.拉紧的,绷紧的,紧张的 | |
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25 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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26 tranquillity | |
n. 平静, 安静 | |
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27 twitching | |
n.颤搐 | |
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28 intonation | |
n.语调,声调;发声 | |
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29 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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30 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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31 reassured | |
adj.使消除疑虑的;使放心的v.再保证,恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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32 compartment | |
n.卧车包房,隔间;分隔的空间 | |
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33 tart | |
adj.酸的;尖酸的,刻薄的;n.果馅饼;淫妇 | |
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34 confide | |
v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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35 impeded | |
阻碍,妨碍,阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36 warehouses | |
仓库,货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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37 depot | |
n.仓库,储藏处;公共汽车站;火车站 | |
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38 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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39 landmarks | |
n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 );目标;(标志重要阶段的)里程碑 ~ (in sth);有历史意义的建筑物(或遗址) | |
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40 piqued | |
v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 );激起(好奇心) | |
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41 abatement | |
n.减(免)税,打折扣,冲销 | |
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42 candid | |
adj.公正的,正直的;坦率的 | |
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43 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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44 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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45 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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46 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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47 accosted | |
v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 );跟…搭讪;(乞丐等)上前向…乞讨;(妓女等)勾搭 | |
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48 apron | |
n.围裙;工作裙 | |
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49 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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50 frigid | |
adj.寒冷的,凛冽的;冷淡的;拘禁的 | |
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51 arrogant | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的 | |
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52 dominion | |
n.统治,管辖,支配权;领土,版图 | |
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53 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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54 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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55 sniff | |
vi.嗅…味道;抽鼻涕;对嗤之以鼻,蔑视 | |
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56 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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57 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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58 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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59 bustled | |
闹哄哄地忙乱,奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 ); 催促 | |
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60 fleck | |
n.斑点,微粒 vt.使有斑点,使成斑驳 | |
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61 foam | |
v./n.泡沫,起泡沫 | |
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62 saluted | |
v.欢迎,致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 );赞扬,赞颂 | |
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63 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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64 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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65 brewing | |
n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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66 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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68 rebut | |
v.辩驳,驳回 | |
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69 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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70 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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71 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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72 tickling | |
反馈,回授,自旋挠痒法 | |
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73 scurried | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74 amity | |
n.友好关系 | |
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75 incurable | |
adj.不能医治的,不能矫正的,无救的;n.不治的病人,无救的人 | |
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76 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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77 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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78 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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79 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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80 distractions | |
n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 );娱乐,消遣;心烦意乱;精神错乱 | |
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81 dozed | |
v.打盹儿,打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82 evoke | |
vt.唤起,引起,使人想起 | |
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83 rejuvenate | |
v.(使)返老还童;(使)恢复活力 | |
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84 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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85 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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86 deafened | |
使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 ); 使隔音 | |
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87 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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88 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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89 walnut | |
n.胡桃,胡桃木,胡桃色,茶色 | |
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90 apprehensive | |
adj.担心的,恐惧的,善于领会的 | |
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91 outrageous | |
adj.无理的,令人不能容忍的 | |
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92 pranced | |
v.(马)腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93 apprentice | |
n.学徒,徒弟 | |
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94 effusive | |
adj.热情洋溢的;感情(过多)流露的 | |
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95 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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96 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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97 animation | |
n.活泼,兴奋,卡通片/动画片的制作 | |
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98 appalling | |
adj.骇人听闻的,令人震惊的,可怕的 | |
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99 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
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100 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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101 repulsing | |
v.击退( repulse的现在分词 );驳斥;拒绝 | |
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102 meticulously | |
adv.过细地,异常细致地;无微不至;精心 | |
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103 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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104 giggled | |
v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105 deigned | |
v.屈尊,俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106 ironic | |
adj.讽刺的,有讽刺意味的,出乎意料的 | |
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107 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
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108 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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109 apprehensions | |
疑惧 | |
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110 sipped | |
v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111 bulging | |
膨胀; 凸出(部); 打气; 折皱 | |
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112 stewardship | |
n. n. 管理工作;管事人的职位及职责 | |
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113 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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114 tact | |
n.机敏,圆滑,得体 | |
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115 obstinacies | |
n.顽固( obstinacy的名词复数 );顽强;(病痛等的)难治;顽固的事例 | |
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116 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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117 inane | |
adj.空虚的,愚蠢的,空洞的 | |
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118 inquisitive | |
adj.求知欲强的,好奇的,好寻根究底的 | |
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119 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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120 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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121 villain | |
n.反派演员,反面人物;恶棍;问题的起因 | |
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122 molested | |
v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 );干扰;调戏;猥亵 | |
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123 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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124 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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125 tiresome | |
adj.令人疲劳的,令人厌倦的 | |
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126 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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127 intermittent | |
adj.间歇的,断断续续的 | |
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128 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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129 smote | |
v.猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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130 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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131 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
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132 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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133 altercation | |
n.争吵,争论 | |
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134 colloquy | |
n.谈话,自由讨论 | |
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135 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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