The Time Machine — EN

A Sudden Shock

“As I stood there mus­ing over this too per­fect tri­umph of man, the full moon, yel­low and gib­bous, came up out of an over­flow of sil­ver light in the north-east. The bright lit­tle fig­ures ceased to move about below, a noise­less owl flit­ted by, and I shiv­ered with the chill of the night. I deter­mined to descend and find where I could sleep.

“I looked for the build­ing I knew. Then my eye trav­elled along to the fig­ure of the White Sphinx upon the pedestal of bronze, grow­ing dis­tinct as the light of the ris­ing moon grew brighter. I could see the sil­ver birch against it. There was the tan­gle of rhodo­den­dron bush­es, black in the pale light, and there was the lit­tle lawn. I looked at the lawn again. A queer doubt chilled my com­pla­cen­cy. “No,” said I stout­ly to myself, “that was not the lawn.”

“But it was the lawn. For the white lep­rous face of the sphinx was towards it. Can you imag­ine what I felt as this con­vic­tion came home to me? But you can­not. The Time Machine was gone!

“At once, like a lash across the face, came the pos­si­bil­i­ty of los­ing my own age, of being left help­less in this strange new world. The bare thought of it was an actu­al phys­i­cal sen­sa­tion. I could feel it grip me at the throat and stop my breath­ing. In anoth­er moment I was in a pas­sion of fear and run­ning with great leap­ing strides down the slope. Once I fell head­long and cut my face; I lost no time in stanch­ing the blood, but jumped up and ran on, with a warm trick­le down my cheek and chin. All the time I ran I was say­ing to myself: “They have moved it a lit­tle, pushed it under the bush­es out of the way.” Nev­er­the­less, I ran with all my might. All the time, with the cer­tain­ty that some­times comes with exces­sive dread, I knew that such assur­ance was fol­ly, knew instinc­tive­ly that the machine was removed out of my reach. My breath came with pain. I sup­pose I cov­ered the whole dis­tance from the hill crest to the lit­tle lawn, two miles per­haps, in ten min­utes. And I am not a young man. I cursed aloud, as I ran, at my con­fi­dent fol­ly in leav­ing the machine, wast­ing good breath there­by. I cried aloud, and none answered. Not a crea­ture seemed to be stir­ring in that moon­lit world.

“When I reached the lawn my worst fears were real­ized. Not a trace of the thing was to be seen. I felt faint and cold when I faced the emp­ty space among the black tan­gle of bush­es. I ran round it furi­ous­ly, as if the thing might be hid­den in a cor­ner, and then stopped abrupt­ly, with my hands clutch­ing my hair. Above me tow­ered the sphinx, upon the bronze pedestal, white, shin­ing, lep­rous, in the light of the ris­ing moon. It seemed to smile in mock­ery of my dis­may.

“I might have con­soled myself by imag­in­ing the lit­tle peo­ple had put the mech­a­nism in some shel­ter for me, had I not felt assured of their phys­i­cal and intel­lec­tu­al inad­e­qua­cy. That is what dis­mayed me: the sense of some hith­er­to unsus­pect­ed pow­er, through whose inter­ven­tion my inven­tion had van­ished. Yet, for one thing I felt assured: unless some oth­er age had pro­duced its exact dupli­cate, the machine could not have moved in time. The attach­ment of the levers – I will show you the method lat­er – pre­vent­ed any one from tam­per­ing with it in that way when they were removed. It had moved, and was hid, only in space. But then, where could it be?

“I think I must have had a kind of fren­zy. I remem­ber run­ning vio­lent­ly in and out among the moon­lit bush­es all round the sphinx, and star­tling some white ani­mal that, in the dim light, I took for a small deer. I remem­ber, too, late that night, beat­ing the bush­es with my clenched fist until my knuck­les were gashed and bleed­ing from the bro­ken twigs. Then, sob­bing and rav­ing in my anguish of mind, I went down to the great build­ing of stone. The big hall was dark, silent, and desert­ed. I slipped on the uneven floor, and fell over one of the mala­chite tables, almost break­ing my shin. I lit a match and went on past the dusty cur­tains, of which I have told you.

“There I found a sec­ond great hall cov­ered with cush­ions, upon which, per­haps, a score or so of the lit­tle peo­ple were sleep­ing. I have no doubt they found my sec­ond appear­ance strange enough, com­ing sud­den­ly out of the qui­et dark­ness with inar­tic­u­late nois­es and the splut­ter and flare of a match. For they had for­got­ten about match­es. “Where is my Time Machine?” I began, bawl­ing like an angry child, lay­ing hands upon them and shak­ing them up togeth­er. It must have been very queer to them. Some laughed, most of them looked sore­ly fright­ened. When I saw them stand­ing round me, it came into my head that I was doing as fool­ish a thing as it was pos­si­ble for me to do under the cir­cum­stances, in try­ing to revive the sen­sa­tion of fear. For, rea­son­ing from their day­light behav­iour, I thought that fear must be forgotten.

Abrupt­ly, I dashed down the match, and, knock­ing one of the peo­ple over in my course, went blun­der­ing across the big din­ing-hall again, out under the moon­light. I heard cries of ter­ror and their lit­tle feet run­ning and stum­bling this way and that. I do not remem­ber all I did as the moon crept up the sky. I sup­pose it was the unex­pect­ed nature of my loss that mad­dened me. I felt hope­less­ly cut off from my own kind – a strange ani­mal in an unknown world. I must have raved to and fro, scream­ing and cry­ing upon God and Fate. I have a mem­o­ry of hor­ri­ble fatigue, as the long night of despair wore away; of look­ing in this impos­si­ble place and that; of grop­ing among moon-lit ruins and touch­ing strange crea­tures in the black shad­ows; at last, of lying on the ground near the sphinx and weep­ing with absolute wretched­ness. I had noth­ing left but mis­ery. Then I slept, and when I woke again it was full day, and a cou­ple of spar­rows were hop­ping round me on the turf with­in reach of my arm.

“I sat up in the fresh­ness of the morn­ing, try­ing to remem­ber how I had got there, and why I had such a pro­found sense of deser­tion and despair. Then things came clear in my mind. With the plain, rea­son­able day­light, I could look my cir­cum­stances fair­ly in the face. I saw the wild fol­ly of my fren­zy overnight, and I could rea­son with myself. “Sup­pose the worst?” I said. “Sup­pose the machine alto­geth­er lost – per­haps destroyed? It behooves me to be calm and patient, to learn the way of the peo­ple, to get a clear idea of the method of my loss, and the means of get­ting mate­ri­als and tools; so that in the end, per­haps, I may make anoth­er.” That would be my only hope, per­haps, but bet­ter than despair. And, after all, it was a beau­ti­ful and curi­ous world.

“But prob­a­bly, the machine had only been tak­en away. Still, I must be calm and patient, find its hid­ing-place, and recov­er it by force or cun­ning. And with that I scram­bled to my feet and looked about me, won­der­ing where I could bathe. I felt weary, stiff, and trav­el-soiled. The fresh­ness of the morn­ing made me desire an equal fresh­ness. I had exhaust­ed my emo­tion. Indeed, as I went about my busi­ness, I found myself won­der­ing at my intense excite­ment overnight. I made a care­ful exam­i­na­tion of the ground about the lit­tle lawn. I wast­ed some time in futile ques­tion­ings, con­veyed, as well as I was able, to such of the lit­tle peo­ple as came by. They all failed to under­stand my ges­tures; some were sim­ply stol­id, some thought it was a jest and laughed at me. I had the hard­est task in the world to keep my hands off their pret­ty laugh­ing faces. It was a fool­ish impulse, but the dev­il begot­ten of fear and blind anger was ill curbed and still eager to take advan­tage of my per­plex­i­ty. The turf gave bet­ter coun­sel. I found a groove ripped in it, about mid­way between the pedestal of the sphinx and the marks of my feet where, on arrival, I had strug­gled with the over­turned machine. There were oth­er signs of removal about, with queer nar­row foot­prints like those I could imag­ine made by a sloth. This direct­ed my clos­er atten­tion to the pedestal. It was, as I think I have said, of bronze. It was not a mere block, but high­ly dec­o­rat­ed with deep framed pan­els on either side. I went and rapped at these. The pedestal was hol­low. Exam­in­ing the pan­els with care I found them dis­con­tin­u­ous with the frames. There were no han­dles or key­holes, but pos­si­bly the pan­els, if they were doors, as I sup­posed, opened from with­in. One thing was clear enough to my mind. It took no very great men­tal effort to infer that my Time Machine was inside that pedestal. But how it got there was a dif­fer­ent problem.

“I saw the heads of two orange-clad peo­ple com­ing through the bush­es and under some blos­som-cov­ered apple-trees towards me. I turned smil­ing to them and beck­oned them to me. They came, and then, point­ing to the bronze pedestal, I tried to inti­mate my wish to open it. But at my first ges­ture towards this they behaved very odd­ly. I don’t know how to con­vey their expres­sion to you. Sup­pose you were to use a gross­ly improp­er ges­ture to a del­i­cate-mind­ed woman – it is how she would look. They went off as if they had received the last pos­si­ble insult. I tried a sweet-look­ing lit­tle chap in white next, with exact­ly the same result. Some­how, his man­ner made me feel ashamed of myself. But, as you know, I want­ed the Time Machine, and I tried him once more. As he turned off, like the oth­ers, my tem­per got the bet­ter of me. In three strides I was after him, had him by the loose part of his robe round the neck, and began drag­ging him towards the sphinx. Then I saw the hor­ror and repug­nance of his face, and all of a sud­den I let him go.

“But I was not beat­en yet. I banged with my fist at the bronze pan­els. I thought I heard some­thing stir inside – to be explic­it, I thought I heard a sound like a chuck­le – but I must have been mis­tak­en. Then I got a big peb­ble from the riv­er, and came and ham­mered till I had flat­tened a coil in the dec­o­ra­tions, and the verdi­gris came off in pow­dery flakes. The del­i­cate lit­tle peo­ple must have heard me ham­mer­ing in gusty out­breaks a mile away on either hand, but noth­ing came of it. I saw a crowd of them upon the slopes, look­ing furtive­ly at me. At last, hot and tired, I sat down to watch the place. But I was too rest­less to watch long; I am too Occi­den­tal for a long vig­il. I could work at a prob­lem for years, but to wait inac­tive for twen­ty-four hours – that is anoth­er matter.

“I got up after a time, and began walk­ing aim­less­ly through the bush­es towards the hill again. “Patience,” said I to myself. “If you want your machine again you must leave that sphinx alone. If they mean to take your machine away, it’s lit­tle good your wreck­ing their bronze pan­els, and if they don’t, you will get it back as soon as you can ask for it. To sit among all those unknown things before a puz­zle like that is hope­less. That way lies mono­ma­nia. Face this world. Learn its ways, watch it, be care­ful of too hasty guess­es at its mean­ing. In the end you will find clues to it all.” Then sud­den­ly the humour of the sit­u­a­tion came into my mind: the thought of the years I had spent in study and toil to get into the future age, and now my pas­sion of anx­i­ety to get out of it. I had made myself the most com­pli­cat­ed and the most hope­less trap that ever a man devised. Although it was at my own expense, I could not help myself. I laughed aloud.

“Going through the big palace, it seemed to me that the lit­tle peo­ple avoid­ed me. It may have been my fan­cy, or it may have had some­thing to do with my ham­mer­ing at the gates of bronze. Yet I felt tol­er­a­bly sure of the avoid­ance. I was care­ful, how­ev­er, to show no con­cern and to abstain from any pur­suit of them, and in the course of a day or two things got back to the old foot­ing. I made what progress I could in the lan­guage, and in addi­tion I pushed my explo­rations here and there. Either I missed some sub­tle point or their lan­guage was exces­sive­ly sim­ple – almost exclu­sive­ly com­posed of con­crete sub­stan­tives and verbs. There seemed to be few, if any, abstract terms, or lit­tle use of fig­u­ra­tive lan­guage. Their sen­tences were usu­al­ly sim­ple and of two words, and I failed to con­vey or under­stand any but the sim­plest propo­si­tions. I deter­mined to put the thought of my Time Machine and the mys­tery of the bronze doors under the sphinx as much as pos­si­ble in a cor­ner of mem­o­ry, until my grow­ing knowl­edge would lead me back to them in a nat­ur­al way. Yet a cer­tain feel­ing, you may under­stand, teth­ered me in a cir­cle of a few miles round the point of my arrival.

to muse on/upon/over ⇒ To think/pore over, to ponder.

gib­bous ˈgɪbəs adj More than half but less than ful­ly illu­mi­nat­ed (used of the moon).

to come up ⇒ To appear.

owl aʊl n Noc­tur­nal bird of prey, hav­ing a broad head with large, for­ward-direct­ed eyes that are usu­al­ly sur­round­ed by disks of mod­i­fied feathers.

flit flɪt v To move quick­ly from one loca­tion to anoth­er: hov­er, flut­ter, flicker

shiv­er ˈʃɪvə v To shake slight­ly because of cold, fear, etc: trem­ble, shud­der, vibrate, shake, quake

chill ʧɪl n Rel­a­tive lack of warmth: cold, cool­ness, cold­ness, chilliness

descend dɪˈsɛnd v To move from a high­er to a low­er place; come down.

my eye trav­elled along ⇒ I direct­ed my eyes to.

pedestal ˈpɛdɪstl n An archi­tec­tur­al base for a statue.

birch bɜːʧ n Decid­u­ous tree with flow­ers in catkins, sim­ple, toothed leaves, and bark that often peels in thin papery layers.

tan­gle ˈtæŋgl n A twist­ed and tan­gled mass that is high­ly interwoven.

rhodo­den­dron ˌrəʊdəˈdɛn­drən n An ever­green orna­men­tal shrub with clus­ters of var­i­ous­ly coloured, often bell-shaped flowers.

queer kwɪə adj Devi­at­ing from the cus­tom­ary: strange, curi­ous, odd, pecu­liar, sin­gu­lar, quaint, weird

com­pla­cen­cy kəmˈ­pleɪs­nʌsi n Feel­ing of con­tent­ment or self-sat­is­fac­tion: sat­is­fac­tion, con­tent, peace, plea­sure, hap­pi­ness, com­fort, peace of mind, well-being

stout­ly ˈstaʊtli adv In capa­ble of with­stand­ing con­sid­er­able stress or hard­ship: strong­ly

lep­rous ˈlɛprəs adj Hav­ing a chron­ic, mild­ly con­ta­gious dis­ease char­ac­ter­ized by ulcers of the skin and lead­ing to loss of sen­sa­tion, paral­y­sis, gan­grene, and deformation.

con­vic­tion kənˈvɪkʃən n The feel­ing of being sure that what you believe or say is true: belief, faith, creed, view, opinion

to come home tosome­one or some­thing ⇒ To be under­stood or real­ized by someone.

lash læʃ n The flex­i­ble part of a whip.

stride straɪd n Sin­gle long step.

to fall head­long = head­first, fore­most ⇒ To fall with the head first.

stanch stɑːnʧ v To stop blood from flowing.

to run on ⇒ To keep on running.

trick­le ˈtrɪkl n A flow of liq­uid in a small stream.

all the time ⇒ Dur­ing the whole period.

out of the way ⇒ far away; secluded.

with all my might ⇒ with all my pos­si­ble strength.

dread drɛd n Fear­ful expec­ta­tion or anticipation.

fol­ly ˈfɒli n Fool­ish behav­iour: absur­di­ty, insan­i­ty, fool­ish­ness, crazi­ness, pre­pos­ter­ous­ness, sense­less­ness, silliness

out of reach ⇒ Too far/high to be reached.

two miles ⇒ 1 mile is 1.609 kilo­me­ters. so 2 miles are about 3.2 km.

curse kɜːs v To use rude or offen­sive lan­guage, usu­al­ly because you are angry about something.

there­by ˈðeəˈbaɪ adv In con­nec­tion with that.

furi­ous­ly ˈfjʊərɪəs­li adv In a man­ner marked by extreme or vio­lent ener­gy: fierce­ly, fran­ti­cal­ly, frenziedly

abrupt­ly əˈbrʌptli adv Quick­ly and with­out warn­ing: sud­den­ly, hasti­ly, hurriedly

clutch klʌʧ v To grasp and hold tightly.

to do some­thing in mock­ery ⇒ To do some­thing with the pur­pose of mak­ing fun of something

dis­may dɪsˈmeɪ n Com­plete loss of courage in the face of trou­ble or dan­ger: con­ster­na­tion

con­sole kənˈsəʊl v To allay the sor­row or grief of: com­fort, soothe, solace

inad­e­qua­cy ɪnˈædɪk­wəsi n The con­di­tion of being inca­pable of accom­plish­ing any­thing: impo­tence, inef­fec­tive­ness, inca­pa­bil­i­ty, inefficacy

hith­er­to ˈhɪðəˈ­tuː adv Until this time.

lever ˈliːvə n Pro­ject­ing han­dle used to adjust or oper­ate a mechanism.

to tam­per with ⇒ To inter­fere with something

fren­zy ˈfrɛnzi n State of vio­lent men­tal agi­ta­tion or wild excitement.

star­tle ˈstɑːtl v To sur­prise or fright­en some­one sud­den­ly but not seri­ous­ly: fright­en, scare, ter­ri­fy, alarm

clench klɛnʧ v To hold some­thing tightly.

knuck­le ˈnʌkl n One of the joints con­nect­ing the fin­gers to the hand.

gash gæʃ v To pen­e­trate with a sharp edge: cut, slash, pierce, slit, incise

twig twɪg n Small, leaf­less branch of a woody plant.

sob sɒb v Cry nois­i­ly, mak­ing loud, con­vul­sive gasps: lament, wail, weep con­vul­sive­ly, cry, whimper

rave reɪv v To make a wild or furi­ous sound (of wind, water, storms, etc.): rage

anguish ˈæŋg­wɪʃ n State of men­tal suf­fer­ing: pain, mis­ery, dis­tress, agony, affliction

uneven ʌnˈiːvən adj Hav­ing a coarse, irreg­u­lar sur­face: rough, rugged, coarse, jagged, craggy

mala­chite ˈmæləkaɪt n Sight to dark green min­er­al used for orna­men­tal stoneware.

shin ʃɪn n The front part of the leg from the knee to the ankle.

cush­ion ˈkʊʃən n A pad with a soft fill­ing, used for rest­ing, reclin­ing, or kneel­ing: pil­low

score skɔː n A group of 20 things.

or so ⇒ (of quan­ti­ties) Impre­cise but fair­ly close to.

I have no doubt ⇒ I do not doubt.

inar­tic­u­late ˌɪnɑːˈtɪkjʊlɪt adj Not able to express ideas clear­ly and effec­tive­ly in speech or writ­ing : not artic­u­late

splut­ter ˈsplʌtə n A series of short, loud nois­es like the nois­es of some­one who is strug­gling to breathe.

flare fleə n Brief waver­ing blaze of light: flame, glow

bawl bɔːl v To shout in a loud angry way and with­out restraint: bel­low

sore­ly ˈsɔːli adv Very much: bad­ly

it came into my head ⇒ it occurred to me.

revive rɪˈ­vaɪv v Give new life or ener­gy to or restore from a depressed, inac­tive, or unused state.

to dash down a match ⇒ To strike a match.

to knock over ⇒ To cause to fall, upset, overturn.

in my course ⇒ on my way.

blun­der ˈblʌndə v To move clum­si­ly in an unsteady way, as if you can­not see prop­er­ly: stum­ble, lurch, wal­low, bumble

the moon crept up the sky ⇒ The moon rose slow­ly in the sky.

cut off ⇒ To sep­a­rate, isolate.

to and fro ⇒ back and forth.

to cry upon God and Fate ⇒ To invoke God and Fate to come to help.

to wear away ⇒ pass, usu­al­ly slow­ly (of time).

to grope among ⇒ To search blind­ly or uncer­tain­ly among.

at last ⇒ After a long wait; finally.

weep wiːp v To show strong emo­tions, such as joy or grief, by shed­ding tears; cry.

wretched­ness ˈrɛʧɪd­nəs n Unhap­pi­ness.

spar­row ˈspærəʊ n Small bird with brown­ish or gray­ish plumage.

turf tɜːf n Sur­face lay­er of earth con­tain­ing a dense growth of grass and its mat­ted roots: sod

with­in reach of some­ones arm ⇒ Close enough to be grasped.

deser­tion dɪˈzɜːʃən n The act of giv­ing some­thing up: aban­don­ment, forsaking

to come ⇒ clear to become easy to understand.

It behooves me ⇒ I should behove, aм. behoove bɪˈhuːv v To be appro­pri­ate or suit­able to: become, suit, befit

means of doing some­thing ⇒ A way/mode of doing something

after all ⇒ in spite of all.

cun­ning ˈkʌnɪŋ n Skill in decep­tion: guile

scram­ble ˈskræm­bl n To move or climb hur­ried­ly, espe­cial­ly on the hands and knees.

weary ˈwɪəri adj Phys­i­cal­ly or men­tal­ly tired or exhausted.

trav­el-soiled ˈtrævl-sɔɪld adj Made dirty from a long travel.

futile ˈfjuː­taɪl adj Hav­ing no use­ful result: use­less, vain, unsuc­cess­ful, bar­ren, ineffective

to come by ⇒ To come near.

to fail to do some­thing ⇒ To be unsuc­cess­ful in doing something

stol­id ˈstɒlɪd adj With­out emo­tion or inter­est: indif­fer­ent, unre­spon­sive, apa­thet­ic, impas­sive, listless

jest ʤɛst n Some­thing said or done to cause laugh­ter: joke

beget bɪˈgɛt pt begot bɪˈgɒt, pp begot­ten bɪˈgɒtn v To father: get, breed, sire, procreate

curb kɜːb v To con­trol or restrict: keep, check, hold back, restrain, inhib­it, rein

to take advan­tage ⇒ To use some­thing for one’s own benefit.

per­plex­i­ty pəˈ­plɛk­sɪti n The state of being con­fused and puzzled.

groove gruːv n Long, nar­row fur­row or channel.

sloth sləʊθ n A slow-mov­ing trop­i­cal tree-liv­ing mam­mal of South Amer­i­ca and Cen­tral Amer­i­ca that hangs upside down from the branch­es of trees using its long limbs and hooked claws and feeds on leaves and fruits.

rap ræp v To quick­ly hit or knock some­thing sev­er­al or many times.

dis­con­tin­u­ous ˌdɪskənˈtɪn­jʊəs adj That hap­pens in stages with breaks between them: non­con­tin­u­ous, broken

some­thing takes effort to do some­thing ⇒ Some­thing requires lots of ener­gy and strength in order to be done.

infer ɪnˈfɜː v To draw a con­clu­sion from evi­dence or rea­son­ing: gath­er, con­clude, judge, deduce

clad klæd adj Wear­ing or pro­vid­ed with cloth­ing: dressed, clothed

blos­som ˈblɒsəm n A flower or a group of flowers.

to beck­on to some­one ⇒ To call by a move­ment of the hand.

inti­mate ˈɪn­tɪmɪt v To indi­cate or make known indi­rect­ly: sug­gest, imply, hint, insin­u­ate, allude, indicate

gross­ly ˈgrəʊs­li adv Very, or extremely.

improp­er ɪmˈprɒpə adj Not in keep­ing with con­ven­tion­al mores: inde­cent, indel­i­cate, unseem­ly, unto­ward, indeco­rous, unbecoming

to go off ⇒ To leave.

insult ˈɪn­sʌlt n A delib­er­ate­ly offen­sive act or some­thing pro­duc­ing the effect of delib­er­ate dis­re­spect: abuse, affront

chap ʧæp n A man or boy; a fellow.

ashamed əˈʃeɪmd adj Feel­ing shame, guilt, embar­rass­ment or remorse.

tem­per ˈtɛm­pə n The ten­den­cy of some­one to become angry.

robe rəʊb n A long, loose or flow­ing gar­ment worn as cer­e­mo­ni­al or offi­cial dress.

repug­nance rɪˈpʌgnəns n Extreme hos­til­i­ty and dis­like: hatred, hate, repul­sion, detes­ta­tion, loathing, abhor­rence, abomination

all of a sud­den ⇒ suddenly.

chuck­le ˈʧʌkl n A soft part­ly sup­pressed laugh.

to be mis­tak­en ⇒ To be wrong.

peb­ble ˈpɛbl n Stone, espe­cial­ly one worn smooth by erosion.

coil kɔɪl n An indi­vid­ual spi­ral with­in a series of con­nect­ed spi­rals formed by winding.

verdi­gris ˈvɜːdɪ­grɪs n Green pati­na formed on cop­per, brass, and bronze exposed to air for long peri­ods of time.

flake fleɪk n A small, thin piece of something.

gusty ˈgʌsti adj Blow­ing in puffs or com­ing in sud­den strong wind blows.

out­break ˈaʊt­breɪk n The sud­den start of some­thing unpleas­ant, espe­cial­ly vio­lence or a disease.

furtive­ly ˈfɜːtɪvli adv So silent and secret as to escape obser­va­tion: sneaky, sneak­ing, stealthy

at last ⇒ After a long wait; finally.

occi­den­talˌɒk­sɪˈdɛntl adj Com­ing from or relat­ing to the west­ern part of the world

vig­il ˈvɪʤɪl n The act of care­ful­ly watch­ing: watch, sur­veil­lance, vig­i­lance, lookout

wreck rɛk v To destroy some­thing com­plete­ly: destroy, bring to ruin, ruin , spoil , smash, break, batter

mono­ma­nia ˌmɒnəʊˈmeɪniə n Patho­log­i­cal obses­sion with one idea or subject.

clue kluː n Some­thing that serves to guide or direct in the solu­tion of a prob­lem: key, proof, sign, sug­ges­tion, trace, mark, idea

toil tɔɪl n Work that is dif­fi­cult and unpleas­ant and that lasts for a long time: hard work, labor

devise dɪˈ­vaɪz v To form or plan in the mind: make up, think up, invent, contrive

at one’s expense ⇒ To one’s detri­ment or disadvantage.

it has some­thing to do with ⇒ It is asso­ci­at­ed with.

to feel sure ⇒ To be sure.

abstain əbˈsteɪn v To hold one’s back: keep, hold off, with­hold, refrain, forbear

things got back to the old foot­ing ⇒ Things again were as of old.

sub­stan­tive ˈsʌb­stən­tɪv n Any word or group of words func­tion­ing as a noun.

fig­u­ra­tive ˈfɪgjʊrətɪv adj Used with a mean­ing that is dif­fer­ent from the basic mean­ing and that express­es an idea in an inter­est­ing way by using lan­guage that usu­al­ly describes some­thing else: not lit­er­al

propo­si­tion ˌprɒpəˈzɪʃən n A state­ment that affirms or denies some­thing and is either true or false

teth­er ˈtɛðə v To fas­ten or restrict with a rope or chain.

fifty miles ⇒ 1 mile is 1.609 kilometers.